Page 68

We trained for days, grinding our bodies to the edge of collapse. My fingers were raw, blistered from endless sword drills, the skin stretched taut over the swelling.

But I could finally run a mile without tasting blood in my lungs. Progress.

A week had passed since the heirs arrived. Still no word from Archer, which was rather unfortunate, because I knew he wouldn’t send me here to die.

The shield I’d forced up around Demetria still held, but barely. Its weight clung to every step I took, like dragging myself through a dream that wanted me dead.

Today, we pushed through the Iron Waste Mountains. The last time I’d come this way, Archer and Damien had been with me. I kept wondering if that beast hadn’t attacked us, where would we be now?

Steam burned in my lungs, thick and sharp.

The air stank of scorched iron and old fire.

I had never truly known what lay beyond the edge of the Continent.

The history lessons of Verdonia had been carefully curated, most of the past buried beneath fear or silence of the Forgotten.

But I’d always wondered what kind of powers waited beyond the maps.

And just how big the world really was .

Before the wedding, Charles had mentioned I had family near the border. Maybe he knew something. Maybe he knew what was coming.

We reached a desolate valley by dusk, the sky bruised with the last scraps of light.

The other heirs looked drained, their steps heavy with each mile.

I hoped we’d be stopping soon. The metallic burn of blood lingered at the back of my throat after hours of hiking, and every breath tasted like exhaustion.

Then, as we walked in silence, I felt a knock against my mental shield.

“What do you want, Damien?” I asked quietly.

“I killed Malachi to save you. Is that what you want to hear?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want me to say? I don’t want to go into this war knowing you hate me.”

“Did you die?” I asked through the bond. “Or did you manipulate me into thinking you did?”

“You already know.”

“Then show me,” I whispered. “Show me what happened after we portaled.”

There was a pause, a flicker of resistance across the bond.

“It won’t change anything.”

“It changes everything,” I said, cold as steel. “ At the trial, Archer had seven keys. Seven lives. The only explanation… is that you lied to me.”

Suddenly, the world around me dimmed. My breath caught as the edges of my vision went dark. And then, I wasn’t in the Iron Wastes anymore.

I was inside his memory.

I saw myself in the woods, broken and trembling. And he was there. Not dying. Not bleeding. Just watching in silence. There wasn’t even a drop of blood on his face .

“I loved you from the moment I saw you,” his voice whispered inside the memory.

Then I saw it—the moment I hesitated. When I thought one less contender for the throne might be a blessing.

The memory fractured like glass.

I reeled back into the present, breath ragged. “Why?” I hissed. “Why let me believe you were dead?”

“I didn’t have a good reason.”

I struck his mental shield, hard enough to make it echo. “Tell me the truth.”

His voice cracked through our bond. “I wanted to see how you’d feel. When you hesitated—I wanted it to hurt. Maybe I was afraid you’d take my title. Maybe… maybe I thought marrying me would protect you from him.”

I stepped back like he’d slapped me. “You’re the villain, Damien. Not him.”

He didn’t respond.

And somehow, that silence was the only honest thing he’d ever given me.

We reached a rusted bunker near midnight. Rok divided us into groups of six and shoved us inside without a word. Torn tarps hung from the ceiling, sagging with pooled rainwater from the broken planks above.

Antonia took the bunk above mine. It wasn’t the worst bed I’d ever slept in, but it came close. I lay there for an hour, staring up at the rusted metal slats.

Then her voice drifted down. “You awake?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “I haven’t slept.”

“I don’t like you,” she said flatly. “But if you die, my home goes barren. So... don’t. ”

I turned toward the edge of the bed. Antonia was leaning over the metal guard rail, her head cradled in her hands.

“I won’t let anyone die because of me,” I said quietly.

She hesitated. “Myla bonded with Charles since Lorna’s still out cold. She told me something—I don’t think Charles realized he let it slip.”

My stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

“You asked him to kill you. And he said no.”

“Because I won’t let the civilians of Demetria be used to control my quell.”

Antonia climbed down the ladder, her bare feet landing softly in front of the bed.

“You don’t get it, do you?” she said, her voice sharp.

“What?” I breathed.

“Asking to die isn’t noble. It’s not brave. It’s cowardice, Severyn.” Her voice dropped lower, but it was no less fierce. “I know you’ve been through hell. But the moment you say those words out loud, you start to believe them.”

“I’m not going to die,” I said.

“Good. Because I care about surviving. I care about my little sister, who doesn’t even know if I’m still alive.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. “Can we be friends?”

She studied me for a second. “I’ll allow it for one night.”

I smiled. “Friends.”

She hesitated… then reached over and hugged me. She actually hugged me.

“Listen,” I said quietly. “I know we’re not sleeping tonight. But maybe… since we’re friends for the next three hours, you could tell me something. About yourself. Your sister. Alaric. I want to understand.”

Her jaw tensed, then she shoved my blanket aside. “Move over. ”

I shifted, and she slid in beside me. I couldn’t promise survival. But I could promise three hours of friendship. But tonight, we were just two girls, caught in a war of thrones and blood, who might have, in another life, been friends for much longer.