Page 20

The cold morning rattled my spine as dawn cracked across the horizon. Distant griffin calls echoed through the frostbitten quiet, wild and familiar.

I went to my closet and pulled down a white cloak. No Serpent sigil, no Malvoria M, nothing but soft fabric and silence. It was the only thing that still felt like mine.

Downstairs, the others had already begun to gather. Myla sat beside my father, speaking in low, steady tones. Charles leaned against the stone wall, dragging a sharpening stone along a blade with slow, deliberate strokes.

Kian arrived last, tugging one of Klaus’s old jackets tighter around himself. I couldn’t be upset. It was better on him than collecting dust on a hook.

Myla stood up. “Alright. We search the land for any civilians. Meet back here in five hours,” she said, glancing at the old grandfather clock ticking through the silence.

Father shook his head. “There’s no one left. It’s a waste of time.”

Myla flicked a glance toward Charles. “We still have to check. It’s… Malvoria protocol. ”

Charles stepped forward. The old floorboards creaked under his weight. “Myla’s right. We need to be sure.”

Antonia raised a shaded palm. “Does no one remember yesterday? When we nearly died fighting a beast? We’re not protected out here, not while we’re wandering through miles of unmarked forest.” Her arms folded tight across her chest.

Father’s golden eyes burned. “Feel free to search. But I nearly died doing that every day for weeks.”

Fraser sheathed his blades. “Antonia, Cully, and I will take the northern border. Kian, Severyn, and Myla can handle the south.” He paused, casting a glance at Myla. “If that’s alright with you. It’s your mission, after all.”

She nodded. “I trust your judgment.”

Charles gave a final nod. “Clear the land. Any survivors will be marked barren.”

Myla and I searched the fields for hours, our boots crunching through frost, swords gripped tight at every ice beast’s cry.

I turned to her, flaring my palms for warmth. “Myla, I’m leaving for Night after this. I wanted you to hear it from me first.”

She spun, kicking a frozen beetroot with her boot. “I figured. I overheard what your father said.” Her voice softened. “I understand.”

I wrapped my arms around her neck, pulling her close. “You’ll rise through the ranks.” I touched her cheek with my shadowed palm. “And if you want to date Cully, go ahead. I won’t stop you.”

Her cheeks flushed. “It was once. Maybe twice.” She waved a hand like she was swatting the truth away. “But he wrote me a poem after. ”

I winced. “Gods, spare me. Just—tell Toni to stay alive, and to keep the dirty talk to a minimum with Kian. Although... they would make an unsettlingly cute couple.”

Myla crouched, placing her bare hand against the frozen dirt. “Fraser’s been trying to teach her kindness.”

I snorted. “How’s that going?”

She grinned. “Badly. The sexual tension could probably shatter a mountain. I think she hoped he was the one she was bonded to. She’s got this massive crush on him and thinks no one notices.”

“I’ve had enough people in my head for a lifetime,” I muttered.

“I still can’t believe you’re an heir,” she said, quieter now. “And you and Archer—”

“We’re nothing now,” I said, cutting her off. “Let’s not make this about me.” I offered a small smile. “You’ll be a royal guard soon. With a realm to protect. Maybe the next to claim Victor’s title will choose you as a guard before three years.”

She scoffed. “Doubt it. My mother used to knit gowns for the last Serpent. Victor fired her like she was nothing.”

I hesitated. It felt wrong not to tell her that woman was my grandmother. But maybe now wasn’t the time.

We picked our way back toward the estate. Myla twirled the end of her braid and said, “You sure you’re okay with Cully?”

I smirked. “On second thought, for your own good, he might bore you to death.”

She laughed under her breath. “I don’t mind boring. It’s nice... to escape the battle for once. And when he’s not writing scripture, he’s actually a decent fable author. He’s working on a book.”

“Write to me when he finishes,” I said. “I’d love to read it.”

We rounded a bend in the path, and the estate came into view, its roof dusted with frost, warm light glowing through the windows like a beacon.

Inside, Father lay slumped across the velvet couch, boots kicked up on the table, a low fire crackling in the hearth.

Antonia sat beside Fraser, animatedly gesturing as she ranted about how much she hated the cold.

I nudged Myla and tipped my head toward them. “Fraser’s blushing.”

She grinned. “He’s from a Day bloodline, and shadows fascinate him. I think he’s Monty’s cousin, or something just as cursed.”

Across the room, Cully hunched over his journal in the dining hall. I walked up to him. “Cully, can we talk? Alone.”

He looked up, and his golden eyes were soft beneath the usual exhaustion. “Of course, Sev.”

Charles cracked his neck in the corner, clearly begging the universe for a reason to get involved—but Cully stood without hesitation and followed me out into the cold.

“I’m giving you permission,” I said, voice low. “To date Myla. Just… don’t screw her over. Don’t hurt her.”

He let out a slow breath and rubbed his palms near the flame I hovered between us. “Okay. I won’t. I promise. And… thanks, I guess.”

“And one more thing,” I added. “What exactly does journaling the next Serpent get you?”

Cully scratched his jaw. Hesitation flickered behind his eyes.

“If I’m the first to document it? A commission.

Freedom. The right to write wherever I want.

” His voice dropped a notch. “But Valscribe… they already know everything. Who’s going to win, who’s going to fall.

They know before half the realms even realize there’s a new heir. ”

I frowned. “You’re serious?”

He nodded. “They’re always there at the lindworm trials, always watching. It will be years before they let me be one of them again. ”

“You want freedom,” I murmured. “To write what you want. Where you want.”

“Of course.” He gave a faint, self-deprecating smile. “Isn’t that what we all want?”

“Grab your quill and paper,” I said.

He blinked. “I left it inside. I didn’t want you accusing me of… journaling you.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m a Serpent, Cully. I’m the next heir.” I stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. “There is your story.”

His mouth parted. Shock flickered across his face. “There’s no way,” he breathed. “Who—who are you heir to?”

Without answering, I unfastened my cloak and turned slightly, bracing against the wind. “The heir of Night,” I said. “The heir of Shadows. I am Archer Lynch’s heir.”

Cully staggered back a step. “Sev, do you realize how many journalists have failed to uncover that?”

“There’s your freedom,” I said. “Write whatever your heart desires.”

His eyes filled, and then he threw his arms around me. “Severyn,” he whispered, voice thick with pride. “You were always my favorite sibling. You have no idea what this means for me”

I closed my eyes, leaning into him. “I expect your fables in my library someday. I expect the best damn story of my legacy.”

He laughed softly, squeezing my shoulders. “I’ll write you well. Maybe I’ll even leave out the embarrassing childhood bits.”

I smiled, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I want this for you, Cul. No more dungeons, no more writing in the cold.”

Maybe I trusted too easily—offering up my truth like it couldn’t undo me. And maybe the saddest part was that the only people I trusted with it... were the ones who shared my blood .

I leaned back against the red brick of our home, letting the silence settle.

Then a cold voice slithered into my mind.

“Oh, you’re full of secrets, aren’t you?” it purred. “I know all of yours. Yet you still don’t know who I am.”

I stiffened.

Cully noticed. “You okay, Sev?”

“Yeah,” I lied, smiling faintly. “I’ll just miss you.”

And then, to the voice, I asked, silent and sharp, “What are you going to do about it?”

Their answer coiled through my mind like smoke.

“Control you.”