Page 29

A soft knock echoed at the door, tugging me from the haze I hadn’t realized I’d slipped into.

How I ended up in bed after passing out on the balcony was a mystery I couldn’t piece together. A quiet suspicion prickled—had Archer carried me? The thought was both intimate and strange.

Amria stepped inside. “Severyn, you have a guest. A guard has come to see you.”

I groaned and dragged myself upright. “I’ll be down in a moment.”

I descended the stairs slowly, fingers trailing along the cold iron banister for balance. In the foyer, Ellison stood waiting, guard hat in hand, posture rigid. Then he saw me. “Shit,” he breathed, gaze flicking over me. “You?”

I tilted my head. “Disappointed?”

He swallowed. “Not at all. Just… confused.” His sleeves were singed, ash dusting his jawline. He must’ve portaled through flame.

“It’s a long story,” I said. I didn’t have the energy to explain.

“I’ll say. You were a Serpent the whole time? ”

“I know you came all this way, but this isn’t a date,” I muttered. “Just two people… existing.”

“I didn’t have a choice. Dungeons or this.” He glanced around the estate. “I’m slightly terrified to be here. Mostly of the Serpent who owns it.”

“We can leave, if you want. I assume you’ve been practicing your flame?”

“Not every day your lead guard yanks you from drills to run portal quells until you’re dreaming in flame.”

Charles. Of course.

Before I could answer, the library door opened and Archer stepped out, wearing a smug grin and walking like it was all for show.

“Ellison Sinclair,” he said. “Welcome to the shadows. I trust you’ll be escorting Severyn to her titling presession?”

Ellison blinked. “I had no clue that was… today.”

“You’ll take her tonight,” Archer said with a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “But if you touch her, I’ll sever every nerve in your hand and leave your mind in shadow.”

Ellison coughed. “Noted.”

I crossed my arms. “A little notice would’ve been appreciated,” I said.

Archer didn’t miss a beat. “We all love a little surprise.” His smile was razor-thin as he turned back to Ellison.

“Amria will collect Severyn in an hour. After that, we’ll review expectations.

As for you, there’s a room waiting at the Serpent hostel.

Just a two-mile walk. Through the dark. Past the beasts. ”

“Perfect,” Ellison said brightly. “I do enjoy a brisk jog with a side of mortal peril before bed.”

“Wonderful,” Archer replied. “Take the scenic route near the silver river. If you hear singing, don’t follow it.”

I shot him a look. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Immensely. ”

Ellison leaned closer. “Is he always like this, or is tonight a special edition of possessive and passive-aggressive?”

“I’m right here,” Archer said coolly.

“I noticed,” Ellison said without missing a beat.

“Well?” I gestured toward the door. “Shall I give you a tour before something with claws eats your legs?”

Ellison grinned. “Lead the way. I promise not to trip over my own ego next time I have to save your ass.”

As we turned to leave, I could feel Archer’s stare slicing into my spine. He let me walk away. Let me lead another man through his halls. His home.

And for once, I was the one making him burn.

Ellison chuckled. “I suspected to see a dead body. Honestly, this place is so beautiful. I think I’ll rather enjoy that walk tonight,” he said. “Hopefully no death beasts find us and trap you in a nightmare again.”

I felt Archer staring as I turned down the hall. “I haven’t woken up from that nightmare yet,” I muttered to Ellison.

Our voices echoed between stone and shadow, awkward banter masking the deeper ache that I felt wholly.

He gave me the illusion of freedom—let me walk away—when all I wanted was for him to fight. Fight for me. For us.

But no trace of my unspoken words slipped through our bond.

I led Ellison to the overlook of crystalline mountains, where Archer had first kissed me after I was heired. Wind swept my hair across my shoulders. The skies were gray, heavy. Like my heart.

“How is everyone?” I asked.

He slid his hand into his pocket. “Cully won’t stop writing. Myla’s stationed in North Colindale until Winter ends, just in case a Forgotten claims the land… I think Toni and Fraser slept together. I try to avoid most conversations. ”

I let out a breath, heavier than I expected. “I thought it would be worse.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “I’m good at reading people, and you seem off.”

I blinked. “I doubt that.” Then quickly added, “My friend was a mind reader. That’s what I meant. I’m sure you are good at reading people.”

He raised a brow. “Those are invasive quells. I’d never be friends with one.”

“Well, he’s dead.” The words slipped out before I could catch them. “And it’s my fault.”

The silence that followed was too full, too sharp.

“You know,” Ellison said after a beat, “where I’m from, we burn ashes and melt them into something sacred. Something loved. You could find his ashes, wherever they are. You wear a bracelet, don’t you? More Serpents keep their memories as jewelry.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

He leaned on the railing, arms crossed. “You don’t open up much.”

“No,” I said. “I don’t care to.”

He gave a quiet smile. “I’ll make you a deal. You say something that scares you, I’ll do the same.”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. You first.”

Ellison’s gaze shifted to the horizon. “I’m terrified of my stepfather,” he said. “Hadrian. My mother had an affair when he was mentoring at the Academy. He stayed with her. Had my younger brother, Caius. I’m guessing you’ve met Hadrian... and his brute.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” he said, but his voice didn’t sound convinced. “Still, I’m a reminder.”

A quiet settled between us .

“Now,” he said gently, “tell me what’s clawing at you.”

I exhaled. “My friend died.”

Ellison didn’t flinch.

“I was there,” I whispered. “He was killed by his own portal. And I stood there helpless. I’m scared I’ll never stop reliving it.”

“Like you said… that wasn’t your fault.”

My fingers clenched the iron railing until the metal bit into my palms. “Maybe you are right.”

Maybe my dead quell had manifested into despair, the ability to turn every conversation cold.

“I think you need a piece of him,” Ellison said gently.

He reached beneath his shirt and pulled out a silver chain. It was a gray pendant that gleamed softly in the low light.

“My father,” he said. “His ashes were smelted into this. Hadrian had him killed after the affair.”

“Hadrian sounds like a monster.”

But I didn’t need a piece of Damien. He was the sharp edge of every glass. My reflection in wine. A thousand cuts I’d poured into him. Every part of him was something I’d made worse.

And I missed him.

“He’s a highly respected leader,” Ellison added. “I never met my real father. Hadrian claimed me as his own. But... you can’t treat grief like something you can control.”

“I can handle grief,” I whispered.

But even I wasn’t sure I believed it.

“We should head back. Visitors will be arriving soon,” I said. Honestly, I just needed a moment alone before my titling ceremony.

He nodded, and we turned toward the estate. In the main kitchen, Amria sat at the dining table, nose buried in a tabloid. At the sound of our footsteps, she looked up and shoved the paper behind her back .

“Oh! Severyn,” she chirped, voice an octave too high. “Your guests will be arriving soon, and we haven’t even started your hair!”

“Was that the Serpent Press ?”

She flapped a hand too quickly. “No, no. Just my personal journal. I jot things in the margins.”

I stepped forward. “Did Cully’s article get published?”

She froze. Her eyes darted to the sink—then she lunged.

“I’m terribly clumsy,” she muttered, cranking the faucet.

“Amria!” I shouted. “Why are you acting so strange?”

But it was already too late. With a sudden motion, Amria grabbed the paper and shoved it under the running water. The pages buckled and curled, the ink bleeding into the stream. Words unraveled in dark streaks. My name blurred, smeared by the current until it disappeared entirely.

“I’m not acting strange,” she insisted. “Just embarrassed by what I wrote, that’s all!”

“Why didn’t you want me to see it?” I demanded. “And where is Cully’s article?”

Her smile wavered. “It’s nothing, Severyn. Just gossip. You know how journalists are. They twist everything.”

The lie clung to her—in the way she wouldn’t look at me, in the tremble of her hands, in how her voice fought to stay light.

“Amria,” I said again, low and steady. “What did the Serpent Press say? Don’t lie to me.”

She inhaled too sharply. Wiped her hands on a towel. “Now, now,” she said with forced cheer. “Let’s focus on you. We have so much to do before tonight.”

But the silence that followed screamed louder than anything she could have said. Amria was hiding something. And I would find out what, one way or another. Because tonight, I wasn’t just anyone. Tonight, I would stand before the Continent.

Tonight was my titling.

My titling ceremony felt like the Serpent Bid all over again.

I thought back to my childhood, the few Serpents I’d met growing up were all from Winter. But now, within the span of an hour, nearly a dozen wings broke through the shadowed shields around us. Some portaled through the sky, others emerged through bursts of wind and flame.

Lasar, the sixth Winter Serpent, bowed low before me. “You look lovely, Severyn,” he said. “I always knew you’d end up a Serpent. Perhaps not of Night—but if you’d been your father’s heir, it would’ve taken years to clean up the mess he left behind.”

I remembered Lasar from the Serpent Bid, he was the one who’d forced my father to confess the truth about the bargain with Victor.

He leaned in and added, “Victor Lynch would’ve poisoned you long before you ever reached the throne.”

The words landed hard. I stiffened.

“The Lynches seem to have a history with the Blanches,” I said quietly.

Lasar smiled. “It wasn’t history.”