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“You make it sound like a prophecy,” I whispered.

“Just every Seeker known to Verdonia predicted the unification of flame and shadow,” he said, his voice laced with a chilling certainty. “There’s a reason your titling isn’t shocking.”

I didn’t want to talk about prophecies. “Archer is a great Serpent, and I’m honored to be his heir. If you’ll excuse me, I must find him.”

I turned away, pushing through the same Serpents who had once watched me trapped behind a glass cage. Who saw me claimed by two of their own. Who watched now, curious-eyed and whispering .

As I passed, Ellison caught my arm. “I was promised a date with a Serpent—not to be paraded around like a titling side piece. I don’t do well with gawking.”

“Oh, just enjoy it,” I muttered. “Flirt with a Serpent, for all I care.”

He smirked. “Why didn’t you tell me at the institute? We spent hours suffering in that dungeon together.”

I exhaled. “I needed to prove myself. That’s all.”

“You win Serpent and still have to risk your life?” He raised a brow. “That sounds unfair.”

“It’s... complicated.”

“I’m good with complicated,” he said, stepping closer. “The least you could do is try to explain.”

I pushed him forward through the crowd. “Actually, I don’t owe you anything,” I said.

My shoulders tensed as a sheet of white light flickered across the stone floor. The crash of distant waves echoed beyond the estate, but all I could hear were boots.

Across the courtyard, Monty Garcia bowed with a calculated smile, his posture sharp, locked on me like a predator sighting prey.

I turned immediately, instinct tightening my spine and quickening my pulse. Anywhere but here. But I didn’t get far. Light chains snapped around my wrist, warm and binding. I hissed as he tugged the thread tighter.

“Long time, no see, Monty,” I said tightly.

Ellison glanced between us, his brows drawn as he took a subtle step back. “I’m going to find wine,” he muttered. “Or maybe something stronger.”

Monty’s voice followed like frost. “I’ve only come to congratulate you, Severyn. ”

“Like hell,” I snapped. “You tried to kill me weeks ago.” The words came too easily. Because I hadn’t forgotten his sword nearly puncturing my heart when he learned of my true bloodline.

A smug smile flashed across his face. “There’s a reason I claimed you, Severyn.”

“Your claim is worthless, but enlighten me.”

His gaze swept the crowd as though searching for something, or someone. “An alliance for a barter.”

“What do you barter?” I asked.

“Daylight quells trap the sun, Severyn. I’ll save your father’s land, but all you must do is ally with me.” His voice dripped with a calculated sweetness, like honey laced with venom.

“I already have a barter for sunlight.”

He tightened the ropes of light around my wrist, yanking me closer. “You forget, trapping the sun requires a daylight quell. And everyone who promises sunlight, Severyn, is a liar. They need me.”

I remembered Archer telling me that once in Ravensla. Still, I didn’t trust Monty. “You don’t want an alliance. You want a crown. There’s always a price for your barters, Monty. What is it this time?”

His grin spread wide, but there was no warmth in it, just teeth. “The king has chosen six Serpents to compete for his title and you’re one of them.”

“You’re lying.”

The chains of light cinched tighter, searing into my skin. I stumbled forward. “Soon you’ll be searching for your heir,” he said softly, “once Archer is called to fight against me… and doesn’t survive.”

My breath snagged. “The king set a trial for his heir? When?”

“As he planned all along,” Monty said with a flicker of satisfaction. “He only hoped his blood would stand a chance. ”

Understanding hit like a blade. “You want me to ally with you, so I don’t kill you when this so-called trial happens?”

“Exactly.” His gaze flicked to the burn on my wrist. “If we’re the last ones standing, the throne is mine.”

“And if I break our alliance?” I asked, jaw tight.

Monty chuckled. “Then I’ll strip the sun from every step you take—and the light from your mind.”

His hand hovered near my wrist, fingers twisting ever so slightly. A dark, sunless patch bloomed beneath me, leeching warmth from the air. “This sunlight you feel?” he murmured. “It was brought by a daylight quell. I could take it away in seconds.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” I hissed.

“There’s a reason the other Daylight realms went barren, Severyn. And it wasn’t the Forgotten.” He leaned in, voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “My grandparents locked away the light from those realms before they fell. That’s why you should fear me. I am the most powerful Serpent to ever live.”

“Then tell me,” I snapped, “if you’re so powerful, why is the sun still fading in North Colindale?”

Monty tilted his head. “Because my grandfather was the middleman between Victor and your father. But daylight is... fickle. It fades. It slips away until there’s nothing left.

Victor didn’t reclaim his sun from the North, it faded.

” He paused. “When you were meant to marry Victor’s heir, the light was supposed to return.

That was the deal. Consider it... a debt unpaid. ”

“Well, I’m not paying it,” I said flatly. “I’m not bartering with you.”

He laughed, low and sure of himself. “You say that now. But one day, when you’re desperate you’ll come. And when you do, my price might not be so kind.”

A shadow shifted beneath me. A cold hand gripped my shoulder, pulling me from the growing tension .

“Delightful to meet your company, Garcia,” Archer said coolly. Then, with a glance at me, he said, “Severyn, perhaps you should tend to the other guests. We wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’ve chosen a realm to favor.”

As we turned away from Monty, his voice dropped. “Need I remind you how dangerous he is?”

“He was just congratulating me,” I muttered.

“I doubt that,” he said.

Then came the sweep of violins and the soft chime of harps rising over the hush of conversation. We wove through the crowd, my silver and red gown trailing behind me like moonlight.

That’s when I saw her. Amber eyes. Blonde hair cascading over sharp shoulders.

Malachi.

I stopped cold. Archer’s hand closed around my elbow, firm but gentle, anchoring me before I could step toward her.

“Not now,” he murmured. “You’ll have time for reunions later.”

Our stares locked across the crowd. A wave of memory, pain, and fierce relief slammed into my chest, so sharp and sudden I nearly crumpled under the weight of it.

“She’s here,” I whispered. “Archer—”

“She can wait,” he said, already glancing toward the raised dais. “The king is about to speak.”

I forced myself to look away.

That’s when I saw him. Seated near the stage, one leg crossed over the other. A quill gripped tight in his white-knuckled fist. He scribbled fast, ink bleeding red from the nib as his gaze swept the crowd like he’d just landed the greatest scoop in Serpent Press history.

A Valscribe journalist.

My stomach turned. “Why isn’t Cully reporting this? I told him to write the story of my heiring. ”

Archer didn’t answer right away. His jaw ticked, and then he said, “He wrote it.”

Something cold traced the back of my neck. “I haven’t seen it. Amria tried to hide the paper from me.”

He clenched his fist, regret shadowing his face. “I destroyed that tabloid before too many people saw it.”

“What did he write?” I asked carefully.

Archer hesitated. “He didn’t only write about your titling, Severyn.”

I stared at him, the silence drawing taut like a bowstring. “Then what did he write?”

But before he could speak, the crowd parted and Hadrian stepped through, flanked by his wife. “You look lovely, Severyn,” he said, approaching with that practiced charm.

Motava dipped her chin in a graceful bow, her golden curls sculpted into an intricate updo.

“I’m relieved the rumors were cleared,” she said.

“And that the journalist has been... handled.” Her gaze flicked to Ellison, who sipped from a serpent-shaped glass near the wine bar.

“A scandal would not reflect well on our family’s legacy. ”

My throat tightened. “What rumors?”

Hadrian gestured toward the exhausted journalist by the dais. “A rather scandalous claim,” he said, voice dipped in amusement. “That a ruler was in love with his heir. Shameful, really. Good thing the Seeker rats were exterminated decades ago.”

My words slipped through my clenched teeth. “Cully... wrote a love story... about us?”

Of course. I had asked him to write my titling, but he’d seen us kiss. He didn’t write just a piece about my titling. He wrote the truth. The story of Archer and me and whatever he thought he knew. And now, every glance, every hush, every gaping stare between us made sense .

My fingers curled against the bones of my gown, flame threatening to bloom beneath my skin.

“How did you deal with him?” I asked, barely able to speak.

“The king barred him from all elite postings,” Archer said, quietly but firmly.

Motava laughed behind her jeweled glove. “Serves him right. He’ll be lucky if a Scavenger even reads his scraps now.”

This was my fault.

All of it.

Hadrian stepped in, voice cool and practiced. “Perhaps that’ll teach the journalists to think twice before slandering royal names in their press.”

“Where did they send him?” I asked, barely managing to keep my tone level.

Hadrian smiled. “The prisons.”

The king stood balanced on a golden, snake-headed cane, his heels clicking against the black stone. His eyes locked on mine, unblinking.

My skin prickled.

Archer’s shadows laced around me, trying to calm the rising storm. But they couldn’t smother the rage in my chest. My mother had wielded death, but this… this was a fury that could kill.

Cully had told the truth.

And they buried him for it.

“You knew,” I whispered to Archer, the words slicing like broken glass. “And you didn’t tell me.”

He winced. “I’ll find a way to release him. I swear to it.” His hand found my wrists, steadying me. “I swear, Severyn.”