Page 39 of Severed Heir (The Serpent Heir #2)

“Lasar’s,” he said. “Serpent of Bretherian, we’re in the iced city of Neverin. If it were up to me, we’d be flying south, breathing ocean air under palm trees. Not… trudging through ice stacked on ice.”

“We’re not risking Naraic’s wings in this weather,” I said, shaking my head. “Besides… I always thought Lasar was one of the less terrible ones. He’s sort of kind to me. ”

I glanced back. Naraic blinked slowly, not offering much—just tired silence.

Cully studied me. “That bond between you two, it’s strong. Kind of fascinating, really. But please tell me he agrees this is a terrible idea.”

Naraic dipped his head. “The other bond is weakened.”

My stomach sank. “Archer? Is he hurt?”

“Exhausted,” Naraic said. “You’ll feel him less now. The prison wards sever most senses. Even the channel.”

Cully’s grip found my elbow. “He knows we’re here,” he whispered.

I blinked. “Lasar?”

But the answer stepped from the mist before either of us could breathe.

“Severyn Blanche,” a voice rasped. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” A tall, white-haired figure emerged through the swirling snow.

“We’re seeking shelter,” I said, steadying my voice. “May we use your hostel for the night?”

Lasar’s pale eyes swept over us, lingering for a beat on Naraic. Then he turned, breath fogging the cold air. “You’ve come far. You deserve more than scorched logs and frozen rations.” A faint, unreadable smile touched his lips. “Come. You’ll stay in my estate.”

I glanced at Cully. “You remember Lasar, right? From when we were kids?”

His voice dropped. “Yeah. But... this might be a bad idea.”

“Why?”

He didn’t look away from Lasar. “I think our mother killed his youngest brother. Back when they were students.”

“…Oh.”

“Yeah. This is about to get awkward. ”

We followed Lasar through a ring of frostbitten pillars. “Your dragon can rest beneath the trees. I’ll have warm water prepared for his wings,” he said.

He pressed a hand to what looked like solid ice, and a hidden door folded open in the side of the mountain.

The corridor inside was dimly lit, lined with furs and polished stone. Golden columns rose like frost-forged spires, holding up a vaulted ceiling etched with constellations. Which was strange, because I hadn’t seen a single star outside.

A draft whispered through the space, brushing the windows as hail tapped against the glass like claws trying to get in.

There was no turning back now.

“You would’ve flown through that storm?” Lasar asked, not looking back. “Foolish. They’re worse this time of year. Sit.”

An elderly aide entered with a tray of lemon tea and a pair of worn slippers. Her eyes snagged on our soaked, half-frozen socks. I hadn’t bathed in two days. I probably looked like a runaway scavenger who’d lost a bet with a snowstorm.

I forced a smile as Lasar tied back his long white hair. “This is my brother, Cully. And we’re both grateful for your hospitality.”

Lasar’s gaze lingered on Cully’s hands. A soft, knowing smile tugged at his mouth. “I know writer’s knuckles when I see them. My late wife kept an ointment in the drawer. It helped her.”

Cully raised his teacup, shifting. “Didn’t your wife pass… eight years ago?”

Lasar nodded, eyes drifting. “I couldn’t bring myself to throw her things away. She loved that lotion. Said it was the only thing that kept her joints working.”

Cully shifted again. “Right. Uh… thank you, but no. My skin’s… sensitive.”

I nudged him. “Be nice. Lasar is offering you lotion.” Archer always said any gift from a Serpent was sacred .

“You know I have a delicate skin barrier,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m not risking eight-year-old lotion. I’ll break out in hives.”

“So what? He’s being nice.”

Lasar chuckled. “Do not accept anything you do not want. That is my first lesson, Severyn.”

“Thank you. We’ve got a long flight ahead,” I said, turning to Lasar. “Your hospitality means a great deal, but we’ll be gone before sunrise.”

He moved to the window, where snow spun in a mad, spiraling vortex. “Not in this weather. There’s a reason dragons don’t live in Winter realms. Their scales weren’t built for it. One wrong gust and you’ll slide straight off the cliffs.”

“We will wait the storm out.” I tightened my grip on the warm mug and suddenly my body felt like liquid. “Your home is beautiful.”

“Does it remind you of yours?” he asked, head tilting slightly.

“Yes,” I said. “My former home.”

Lasar’s eyes narrowed. “I assume your journey east relates to the prison.”

I stiffened. “How did you—?”

“No one travels this far without purpose.” He sipped his tea. “You plan to free Archer Lynch, don’t you?”

“I plan to break him out,” I said evenly. “He’s innocent.”

Lasar tilted his head. “Did he not harbor a lindworm, hoping you’d become his heir?”

“I found the egg,” I said. “I kept it. When it hatched, it chose me.”

Cully set down his teacup, smacked his lips, then blinked. “Interesting… vermison usually tastes salty. But the lemon masked it well.” His head snapped up. “Severyn— ”

“What’s vermison?” I asked, a slow chill crawling over my skin.

His voice dropped. “A truth elixir. He drugged us.”

I stared at Lasar. “You poisoned us?”

He leaned back, running a hand over the pelt draped across the couch. “A rebel journalist and a disgraced heir wander onto my land. Forgive the precaution. Now… tell me again about the lindworm.”

The burn hit my throat like molten iron. I tried to fight it, but the truth surged up anyway. “I found the egg my first day. In a cave. I kept it hidden. When it hatched… it attacked me.”

Lasar’s eyes gleamed. “Then Archer Lynch is innocent. The creature found you.”

Cully’s tone flattened, edged with disbelief. “Some might say you just violated us. Truth elixirs are banned in most realms, you know.”

Lasar didn’t flinch. “We have no allegiance. You wandered onto my land, I needed to protect myself.”

Cully’s jaw flexed, but Lasar’s voice pressed on, calm and unnervingly composed. “If you’re headed to the prison, you’ll need more than hope to get in. I saw your truth. That makes me a witness.”

I glared at him, the burn still lingering in my throat. “You forced the truth from us.”

He gave a dismissive wave. “The effects will wear off by dawn.” Then he leaned forward, the warm light catching in his pale eyes. “But tell me—how do you plan to breach the prison? The moment you cross the ward line, a poison far crueler than vermison will lace your blood.”

“I… hadn’t thought that far.”

Cully blinked. “What?”

I winced. “I didn’t know. ”

He stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “You dragged me out of bed, in my gods-damned sleepwear without a plan?”

“You were the plan,” I muttered. “I thought journalists had access. I didn’t even know for sure if you were still at Malvoria, I just… took a chance.”

Lasar’s lips curved faintly. “Then allow me to offer a solution. Gryshion berries. They dull the reaction of ward triggers for a short time. They grow wild on my land, and I’ve cultivated them properly.” He paused, then added, “Two berries, in exchange for an alliance with Demetria.”

Cully scoffed. “What is it with you and drugs?”

“Herbs,” Lasar corrected coolly.

My pulse quickened. “So that’s what this is? You lure me here with tea and sympathy, pretend you cared back at the academy, all for a gods-damned barter?”

His voice dropped. “And what I seek isn’t power. It’s starlight. Gift me stars, and you’ll have your way into the prison.”

“Starlight?” I echoed, unsettled. “What does that even mean?”

Lasar didn’t answer at first. Instead, he lifted his chin, and for a moment, I swore there was sorrow in his eyes. “There are things this land has never known. It has never seen stars. My wife… she painted constellations on the ceiling before she passed.”

Beside me, Cully’s grip tightened on my sleeve. “We’ll find another way,” he said. “One that doesn’t involve ingesting illegal herbs.”

“There is no other way,” I said softly.

Cully groaned. “At the very least, I’d like time to research the effects of mixing vermison with gryshion berries. Preferably on the digestive track.”

“We don’t have time to read a book on organs and herbs, Cully. ”

“They’re harmless,” Lasar said.

I didn’t know what giving ‘stars’ entailed, or how he expected to collect them. But the way he said it… Lasar knew more than he let on. And right now, I needed those berries more than I needed answers.

“Fine,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek. “Give me the damn berries.”

Lasar reached into his coat and withdrew two bulbous red fruits, glossy as blood-polished rubies. “Take them just before crossing the prison ward,” he said softly. “They’ll hold long enough to get you through undetected.”

I didn’t thank him. I just curled my fingers around the fruit, then shoved them into my pocket. When Archer returned… he’d owe this man so me stars.