Page 22

Oh shit. This was bad. Like I actually might die bad. Apparently, Cully had read me way too many horror stories, because I was living one now.

“Don’t take my organs,” I croaked.

Somewhere above me, a second voice drifted through the haze—soft, curious, and unmistakably childlike. “What’s an organ?” a small voice asked.

A woman chuckled. “They’re things that keep you alive. Like your heart and lungs.”

The child leaned in closer, warm breath brushing my skin. “Her heart sounds okay, Mum. It’s ticking really loud.”

It was definitely a child’s voice, which somehow made it worse.

“She’s breathing,” the woman murmured. “I just hope whoever’s heir she is, we’ve got an alliance with. That Serpent mark is fresh... poor thing. It’s infected.”

Something cold pressed against my spine. I tried to move, to fight through the weight pinning me down, but my limbs were stone.

“She’s moving!” the child trilled, voice high and eager right beside my ear .

I groaned, teeth chattering as I forced my eyes open. Wide brown eyes blinked down at me. A little girl with tight, dark ringlets and a freckled face leaned closer.

“Hello,” I whispered. “Where… where am I?”

Hands eased me back down. “Still coming off the poison, dear. Rest a bit longer.”

Light fractured across my vision, sharp and dizzying. I winced. “Where’s… where is my dragon?”

“The pearly one’s outside,” the girl giggled.

I lay on a narrow cot, thin cotton sheets brushing my calves. Above me, wooden beams crossed the low ceiling, damp with moss and shadow. The air was thick with the scent of earth and blood. My arm throbbed where the arrow had struck, now wrapped in clean bandages.

An older woman with the same dark curls knelt beside me, lifting a compress from my spine. Her touch was gentle, though her eyes were not.

“You ran a fever for two days,” she said. “How are you still breathing?”

I blinked at her, dazed. “Two days?” I sat up too fast. “I’ve been unconscious for two days?”

“Easy,” she said, placing a steady hand on my shoulder. “What’s your name?”

“Severyn,” I murmured, pressing my fingers to my temple. “What did he do to me?”

Her gaze flicked to the flame relic on my palm. “And whose heir are you?”

I exhaled slowly, waving her off. “I… can’t say. Not yet.”

Her brow creased. “Strange. Maybe the poison muddled your thoughts. Are you allergic to Cringer? It’s typically harmless, just a sedative used on wild dragons. Keeps them calm.”

I stared at her. “He sedated me with dragon tranquilizer? ”

Voices shouted outside the cabin. Then the sharp clang of metal.

“Where is she?” a familiar voice rang out.

The woman stepped back as Archer stormed in, wind at his heels, daggers slung low at his waist, a bow strapped across his shoulder. His dark, tousled waves were wild, his eyes blazing the moment they found me.

“What is she doing here?” he snapped. “And why the hell did your civilian poison her?”

The woman stood with a start. “Archer Lynch,” she said evenly. “So this is your heir?” Her gaze slid to me, slow and calculating. “No word reached us of a student taking title.”

The bow slipped from Archer’s shoulder and hit the floor with a soft thud. His steps carried him to me like gravity was pulling him. And when he stopped, it was as if the storm stopped with him.

“She didn’t want the world to know before her father did,” he said, his voice quieter now. He lifted his head. “Severyn Blanche is my heir.”

There was no taking it back. Not now. Not ever.

“She’s lucky Demetria maintains a respectful relationship with your bloodline. If she’d been her father’s heir, I don’t know if she would’ve woken at all.”

“Maybe your watchers should ask questions before firing,” Archer said. “She could’ve been a refugee.”

Ash burned in my lungs. I didn’t know if it was the air or the ache in Archer’s eyes—like he wanted to touch me but didn’t trust himself to.

He stepped forward.

The woman raised a hand, stopping him mid-reach.

“Stay the night,” she said crisply. “The smoke thickens after dusk, and your dragon won’t see far. You’ll be safer here. ”

But Archer hadn’t stopped looking at me. Like he hadn’t breathed since I left him back in Malvoria.

“Thank you, Kamila,” he said at last, voice strained. “That’s generous of you.”

“I’ll leave you two for a moment,” Kamila replied, eyes glinting.

“My servants will prepare provisions in case you accept. A traditional Autumn meal will be served. Severyn… I’ve left a gown in the far closet.

Your current attire—well, it’s in rags.” She offered a tight smile, took the girl’s hand, and swept from the cabin.

The door shut softly behind her.

Archer didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just stared. And when he finally did, all hell broke loose. “Do you understand how worried I was, Severyn? Fuck. The bond went cold and I—”

I pulled my knees to my chest. “I didn’t plan on getting shot with a godsdamned arrow. Where am I even allowed to go freely?”

He crossed to me, hovering a hand near my elbow before helping me up.

“I have ties in most Autumn realms. Monty Garcia nearly declared war over oil last year. My grandfather pissed off three Summer Serpents. If you kept walking, Severyn, you would’ve crossed into their land, and they would’ve killed you for being my heir. ”

I’d never seen him like this. Angry. Flushed. All of it for me.

I brushed dirt from my shins, voice sharp. “The more I learn about you, the more I realize I never knew you. I suppose it’s a good thing this is all political now.”

“Severyn,” he hissed, lifting his hand like he meant to touch me.

I met his eyes. “You’ll need to learn to keep your hands to yourself if we’re going to convince them we haven’t slept together. ”

His jaw clenched. “Please get up,” he said tightly. “An Autumn Serpent is expecting us.”

“I need to change,” I muttered, turning toward the closet. I made it two steps before the room spun, and my knees gave out.

Shadows caught me before I hit the floor. “Sit,” Archer said, voice low and steady. “I’ll help you.”

Too tired to argue, I sank onto the edge of the cot. He knelt in front of me, wiping the blood and dirt from my knees with a damp cloth.

Without a word, he crossed the room and pulled a pastel gown from the closet. The neckline dipped scandalously low, covered in too many ribbons and frills to count.

He held it up with a crooked smile. “An Autumn offering. You know, when a Serpent gifts a gown... it usually means something.”

I folded my arms. “You’ve given me two.”

Without another word, he stepped behind me, helping me into the dress. Silk and tulle slid over my skin like a second breath, molding to every curve as if it had been stitched for me alone.

Then came the laces. He drew them tight, slowly, agonizingly, his fingers brushing along my spine with maddening precision.

“You’re not making this easy, Severyn,” he murmured, his breath warm against the back of my neck.

I turned. “You’re the one who said we can’t exist.”

His hands hovered just beneath the hem of the gown. Close enough to feel, far enough to ache.

“And I meant it.”

Two could play this game.

I reached out, trailing my fingers along the hard lines of his chest, pausing just below his collarbone. “I’m flushed,” I said softly. “Must be the poison. ”

He didn’t move.

I sank back onto the cot, lifting one knee with slow intent. His gaze dropped exactly where I wanted it. He stepped forward, bracing his hands on either side of me, locking my legs between his.

“I hate that look in your eyes.” His fingers drifted along my calf, then climbed higher.

“Careful,” I said, snapping my thighs shut. “You’ll have to try harder to pretend I’m just your heir.”

He exhaled sharply and adjusted his stance. “You look like chaos in that gown.”

I brushed past him and walked to the door, shoving it open. Cold air rushed in, biting the heat off my skin.

“Come,” I said over my shoulder. “An Autumn realm awaits.”

Outside, silver columns rose from the earth like roots turned skyward, ancient and otherworldly.

Lights blinked to life across the valley as if stars had settled on the ground.

Homes unfurled from the hillsides, built into the land like they’d always belonged.

The streets shimmered beneath my feet, veined with gold and soft moss, glowing faintly with life.

Holy realms—this wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen. Sabitha had told me about the more advanced regions. I guessed this was one of them.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

“Tyvern honors nature,” Archer said, stepping beside me. “They built around the land, not over it.” He glanced toward the forest’s edge. “Wouldn’t be surprised if a bear strolled past.”

Civilians passed in rich shades of saffron and scarlet, some hauling bushels of bark and branches in creaking carts.

Archer guided us through the fog-choked streets until we reached the center of Tyvern, where a moss-draped tower loomed. The clock face was cracked, ticking slow and tired through the haze. A phoenix watched from a nearby tree, its feathers blood-red, flames curling lazily off its wings.

At the door, a young royal guard straightened. His blond hair whipped in the wind, navy cap barely holding.

Without hesitation, Archer tugged the collar of his shirt down, revealing the black serpent mark inked near his collarbone.

“Serpent,” he said.

Then the guard’s gaze flicked to me. “And her?”

“My heir,” Archer replied, bold and blunt. The edge in his voice wasn’t subtle.

The guard cocked his head. “The Night Serpent has an heir. Where did it mark her?”

I stepped forward. “You can speak to me directly. I do have a voice.”

He ignored me, his eyes locked on Archer. “Where did it mark her?”

I rolled my shoulders with a quiet scoff. Archer held out his hand, shadows slipping between his fingers. “You will not see her body.”

“It’s fine,” I said before he could stop me. I shrugged off the shawl, revealing the serpent tail coiled along my spine.