Page 23

The guard studied it, lips pressed into a line. “That’s a rare one. I’d love to know how it surrendered.”

A cold breeze cut across my skin. I pulled the shawl back on. “What does that mean?”

“Most Serpent marks come with blood. Fangs, hissing. Yours looks… calm.”

Archer’s grip tightened at my wrist, guiding me toward the door. “We won’t keep Kamila waiting.”

Inside, the air shifted. Warmth radiated through golden trim and painted leaves that curled across the ceiling like vines. The scent of cinnamon and spice drifted from hidden vents, wrapping around me in a gentle welcome .

The woman who’d helped me earlier stepped from a side hall, her eyes lighting up as they fell on the gown trailing down my legs.

“Simply divine,” she beamed. “Orange is your color.”

“Kamila,” Archer began. “I appreciate your hospitality. It’s been too long since our lands met.”

I lowered my shoulders. “You’re—you’re the Serpent of Tyvern?”

Kamila smiled. “It’s rare, meeting the Night Serpent’s heir. We so rarely get the chance to commune. But I remember the claim he made at the Bid—my, it’s been the talk of the Autumn realms for weeks.”

Archer shot me a dry glance. “Yes. My claim was true. Severyn is my heir.”

Kamila waved us forward, leading us deeper into the estate. We passed a towering wall of weapons—swords with ruby and jade hilts, daggers edged in black, blades tipped in ice—all gleaming beneath the low firelight.

A servant stepped ahead to pull open the dining hall doors. Inside, ten black thrones circled a massive wooden slab, its surface supported by stone carved to mimic sleet.

Kamila took the seat at the head, gesturing for Archer to claim the one opposite. I was placed to his left.

Above us, a chandelier flickered with flame, spilling copper light over the table and casting long, jagged shadows across the room. Leaf-shaped goblets shimmered with vivid orange wine, its sweet, spiced scent rising gently into the air.

Kamila raised her glass. “Flame-boiled oranges,” she said. “I brought them back from Ravensla after the Harvest Festival. Makes the best wine.”

“Ravensla does make the best wine,” I said quickly, hoping to find my footing among the power gathered here .

The royal guard from before stepped inside, cheeks flushed from the cold. He tugged off his leather jacket, revealing a feathered marking that ran from his neck to his left shoulder.

“I hope you don’t mind if my guard joins us,” Kamila said.

He dropped into a seat across from me and winked as he scooted closer to the table’s edge.

Archer flicked his gaze toward the three empty seats where a servant was pouring wine. It seemed more would be joining us. “Of course not,” he said.

Kamila’s smile sharpened. “To witness such a grand dinner for Verdonia’s newest Serpent, is an honor.”

Three more entered as servants laid down tray after tray of food: a man in a black suit, a woman draped in gold, and a younger male trailing behind them.

Archer’s posture shifted the moment they stepped inside.

The older man bowed. “Archer Lynch. Remarkable that you’ve already secured an heir to your kingdom.” He turned to me, then motioned toward the others. “I am Hadrian Sinclair. This is my wife, Motava, and our son, Caius.”

Hadrian looked like every ruler I’d ever met. Hollow cheeks, chin tilted in expectation, as if the room owed him reverence just for standing in it. His moss-colored gaze was steady, unreadable. Even his mushroom-brown hair, slicked back with careful precision, made him seem more brute than noble.

His wife, Motava sparkled beside him, with golden-ringed curls and red lips to match the sharp nails tapping her glass.

Their son, with the same light-brown hair and green-brown eyes,took his seat in stiff silence. He stared at the table, like if he focused hard enough, he might disappear. He looked to be in his late twenties, though something about the stillness in him felt older .

Kamila tapped her knife against her glass. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said lightly. “It felt fitting to invite our neighbors from Wrathi—along with his heir.”

Across the table, Hadrian’s gaze hooked into us. “Archer,” he drawled, “I don’t believe we spoke at the last Bid.”

“I was rather occupied,” Archer said coolly.

Hadrian sighed. “Ah, yes. The burdens of legacy. Leaving your kingdom and enduring mentorship is a noble suffering, really. I did my years at the academy.”

Archer pressed a shadow-wrapped finger to the table. “What’s your real purpose, Hadrian? If you came to mend things with Victor, you’re wasting your breath. I severed that bloodline the day I took on shadows.”

Hadrian smiled, all sharp civility. “I came for you, Archer. To offer my congratulations. Securing an heir so quickly is impressive. Not everyone is so fortunate. Miss Blanche can confirm that. Her father’s realm is crumbling. I’ve even welcomed a few of his refugees myself.”

My grip tightened around the goblet. “How generous of you,” I said flatly. Really, I meant it.

Hadrian jabbed a slice of meat with his fork, juice splattering across his cuff like blood. “My sincere condolences to Andri Blanche,” he said, dabbing at the stain with all the care of someone wiping dirt off their boots. “May someone rise to lead them soon.”

Kamila leaned in, her smile too smooth. “And how do you feel, Miss Blanche? Surely this loss weighs on you.”

They wanted to watch me flinch. But I’d learned how to play the Serpent’s game. “North Colindale is no longer my home,” I said evenly. “But my thoughts remain with my father.”

Hadrian clicked his tongue. “Pity. I had hoped to offer assistance to his realm.”

My head snapped up. “Assistance? ”

He smiled, and something about it felt disturbingly familiar. “A proposition, really. Now that Severyn is your heir, Archer, I’d like to propose a union, between my son and your heir. Summer and Night, united. With your father’s sunlight growing unstable, you’ll need stronger alliances.”

My goblet slipped, nearly crashing to the floor before Archer’s hand shot out and caught it, steadying it just in time.

I stared at Hadrian. Then laughed. “Excuse me?”

Archer rose in one fluid motion. “She’s not for trade.”

Hadrian’s gaze flicked between us. “You’d deny your heir the protection of a Summer bond? Her home will collapse without it.”

“She doesn’t need protection,” Archer said, quiet and lethal. “She has me.”

Hadrian didn’t flinch. “You can’t save her home, Archer. Your own village is nearly on rations.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. I didn’t know.

“No,” Archer said again, colder this time.

Hadrian shrugged. “You could at least consider it.”

Archer didn’t blink. “Severyn Blanche is a Serpent. If you wish to court her, speak to her. She doesn’t bite.”

Would he really let them pawn me off like a crown or a treaty? Some foolish, aching part of me still believed he might have fought for us. That he might have kissed me in that cabin if the silence had stretched one second longer.

Hadrian’s smile thinned. “If not now, perhaps at the next Bid. We could make it official—like your mother’s marriage to Victor.”

“Severyn has every right to choose who she marries. Who she beds. It will not be decided by politics if I have any say.”

“I’m not marrying anyone,” I snapped.

Hadrian spread his hands in mock patience. “What if I bartered the sun, Severyn? Returned it to North Colindale. If Caius doesn’t suit your tastes, I have another son. A guard. He’s stationed far away, meaning you’d hardly see him.”

Archer’s body tensed beside me, taut as a drawn bow.

“Who?” I asked warily.

Hadrian smiled. “His name is Ellison.”

I blinked. “Ellison is your son?”

“You know him?” Hadrian’s interest sharpened.

“I was stationed with him at Malvoria,” I said slowly. “He’s a flame-wielder.”

The possibilities twisted bitter in my mouth. Could I trade my life for my father’s sun? Would it matter, now that Archer and I were nothing?

Archer’s hand gripped his goblet until his knuckles turned bone-white. “There’s a lot to consider.”

Kamila smiled like she’d just won a round. “Spend the evening together. See if the match fits. Accidents happen. Sometimes a flame can... ignite.” Her hands twirled dramatically.

Down the bond, Archer’s voice struck like a blade . “Tell me you aren’t considering this.”

“My father’s land will die.”

“I would never hold you back, but don’t ask me to be okay with this. I will never.”

“I’m only your heir now.”

His fingers clenched beside me. “That is not all you are to me, and you know that.”

“Do I?”

I breathed slowly, then locked eyes with Hadrian. “I appreciate the offer. But I won’t be bartered.”

Hadrian’s smile cracked. “Word of advice, Mr. Lynch, don’t grant your heir too much freedom. She’s only ever learned from her father’s failure.”

Archer’s shadows surged across the table, claws of darkness curling near Hadrian’s throat. “Apologize,” he said, voice low and lethal, “before your son becomes the next Serpent of Wrathi sooner than you planned.”

Hadrian leaned back, a nervous chuckle tugging at the edge of his smug grin. “You’re in love with her. With your heir.”

Motava laughed like it was the juiciest secret she’d ever heard. “Such a scandal.”

Archer’s shadows retracted, slow and trembling, like it physically hurt to hold them back. “Then let’s strike a bargain,” he said, voice cold as steel. “You warm North Colindale. In return, your son may court Severyn—once. If she chooses him, it’s her will. Not yours.”

I turned so fast the floor spun beneath me. “I will not.”

Heat surged up my arms, scorching through my veins. The goblet in my hand cracked, then shattered, and the pale-orange wine spilled across the table like blood.

“You can’t force me,” I hissed, every word trembling.

I knew what Archer was doing. This wasn’t politics. This was punishment. His way of showing me we could not exist.