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The country of Wrathi was all too familiar. Everything here was pristine and orderly. The buildings were made of polished stone, trimmed streets, and citizens whose lives seemed meticulously structured. Even the ocean appeared calm, as if held still by some unseen force and commanded to behave.

We dismounted Naraic and Tansia at the shore, the dragons’ wings folding neatly against their sides. I gave Naraic a gentle pat along his flank. “Be nice to her,” I murmured.

He gave a low, knowing hum. “I respect my elders. Tansia is one of the oldest dragons of our kind. She does a favor for Ciaran.”

“This isn’t a favor,” I muttered. “Archer severed his bond with her.”

“Archer is the son of a conniving man,” Naraic said, his tone darkening. “I believe he might be one step ahead—whatever that may mean.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Go meet Hadrian, Severyn. We’ll discuss this later.” His voice shifted, closing the bond.

Frustration curled through me. “I don’t want you keeping secrets. ”

“No secrets. Just a ward that keeps me from discussing the elders,” Naraic replied, and then he turned, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Archer took my hand as we made our way toward the estate. Even the stone path beneath our boots felt too perfect. Too still.

“This place feels like a prison,” I said under my breath. “Or a death sentence.”

Archer gave a dry smile. “Hadrian Sinclair is nothing if not structured. Civilians here work in shifts of three. We’ve arrived just in time for tea break.”

“Tea break? They are told when to rest?” I scanned the empty streets. “Shouldn’t they be in mourning for their heir?”

“This is mourning,” Archer said, his eyes sweeping the quiet square. “You’ll replace him... but first, you must—”

“Prove I’m worthy,” I cut in, heat rising in my chest.

He stopped, turning to face me. “No. You are worthy. But first, you must accept this kingdom as your own. My father always said Hadrian was the greatest man he ever met. He’s powerful. So are you.”

“We watched him sell barrens,” I said.

“I don’t condone what he does, but he isn’t the first.”

Three guards waited at the edge of the estate, their armor gleaming beneath the early light, the Malvoria crest stamped across each chest. My stomach twisted at the sight—at what it cost to earn that armor.

One was a red-haired man, who eyed the blades strapped across me.

I still carried the sword I’d taken from Callum.

The rest of my things from the academy had been griffin-posted the morning after the festival. Archer’s doing.

“Any outside weapons must be surrendered to the blacksmith,” the red-haired guard said. “Sir Hadrian wants only Wrathi metal on display.”

“My metal stays,” I said .

Archer’s gaze slid to mine, the faintest flicker of amusement playing at his lips. “You heard her.”

The guard hesitated. “Sir Wrathi doesn’t like things out of place. I only speak truth to protect you.”

“I don’t care what Hadrian likes,” I replied, voice firm. “He can live with my blades not matching his kingdom.”

The guard stepped aside and opened the door. “Suit yourself,” he said under his breath.

The moment I stepped through the threshold, memories crashed into me. The duel with Caius. Sneaking into Hadrian’s study with Bridger. Finding his hidden ports.

Hadrian stood at the end of the hall, fingers drumming against the banister. “Severyn,” he said, drawing out my name. “You must get your punctuality from me.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

He smiled faintly, then shook his head. “There’s much to discuss. The civilians are preparing for your transition.”

Rage surged in my chest at the sight of him in this estate. “I want answers.”

Hadrian waved off the guards. “Thendor, prepare the country for a festival tomorrow. Let them wear red.”

I stepped forward, drew a dagger, and slammed it into the wooden banister with a sharp thunk . “I don’t care about your damn festival,” I said, voice tight. “I want to know why the hell I didn’t know you were my father for twenty-two years.”

Thendor didn’t even flinch. “Right away, sir. I’ll have a phoenix letter delivered to the doorstep of every Wrathirian,” he said dryly.

Hadrian barely spared him a glance. His focus stayed on me. “You have your mother’s anger,” he said with a soft, almost wistful smile. “It was her finest trait.”

“No. This isn’t my mother’s anger.” My voice cracked through the air. “I’m pissed, and rightfully so. ”

Hadrian tilted his head, then gestured toward a side room where a vaulted library waited. “Showing you the truth will be easier.”

I glanced at Archer. He gave a small, unreadable nod, and we followed Hadrian inside.

The library stretched farther than I expected. Walls lined with ancient tomes, the scent of dust and ink thick in the air. At its center sat a long-carved table surrounded by high-backed velvet chairs, more suited to a Serpent bid than a reading room.

Hadrian crossed the room in silence and approached the farthest shelf. He ran a hand over the spines, then pulled free a thick, leather-bound book.

“A library?” I asked, brows raised. “You hid the truth in a library?”

“I didn’t want to love your mother,” he said quietly. “But I did. I couldn’t help it. We were both in similar situations with our significant others.”

“How so?”

“You’ve met Ellison.”

I slammed my hand on the table. “Cut the bullshit. I want answers. Real ones.”

Hadrian set the book down with deliberate care, his fingers lingering on the leather binding before flipping halfway through. “This is the original passage,” he said quietly. “The record from when Andri met his truemate.”

I leaned in, eyes skimming the faded ink until a name stopped me cold.

“Liliana Morse?” I murmured, the syllables unfamiliar on my tongue. “Who is that?”

Coordinates were scrawled in the margins. I recognized them instantly as those of North Colindale. I had seen this page before, buried deep in the Serpent Academy archives when Malachi first took me there .

“This is Charles’s birth record,” I said, the words catching in my throat. “But it’s different.”

Hadrian’s voice lowered. “Andri had four children. Two with Liliana. Two with Fallon.” He hesitated.

“His father valued legacy above all else. He poisoned Andri with that belief, convincing him that only a child born of a truemate could carry the Blanche line forward with strength. Bloodline mattered more than love. It was under his father’s blessing that Andri was permitted to marry your mother. ”

The words settled like ash in my chest, bitter and suffocating.

“But the Academy records say something else,” I whispered, staring at the page as if I could will the truth to change. “Charles was born there. I read it myself.”

Hadrian’s expression hardened. “That would be your brother Cully’s doing. His ambition to keep it a secret ruined everything. He was assigned to the Academy during Charles’s third year. Found the original documents about his mother’s identity and changed them.”

He slammed the book shut. A cloud of dust rose between us.

“That decision cost Charles his title. It cost Cully his future. Forced him to write in the prisons. All to protect a truth he thought would shame the Blanche name.”

I swallowed hard. “Cully ruined his life to protect us… That’s why Charles left the Serpent Academy.”

Hadrian’s jaw tensed. Something raw flickered in his eyes.

“Charles was expelled. No one really cared. Cully thought it was a scandal, but in the end, it was nothing more than a Serpent finding their truemate. If he hadn’t stepped in, Charles would’ve been your father’s heir. I have no doubts about that.”

“And why are you involved?” I asked. The question came out sharp. Bitter. “Were you that obsessed with my family that you kept our records? ”

“Because your mother spent twelve hours staring into an illusionist wield,” he said.

“She told me Andri had found his truemate, and that the woman was pregnant.” He drew a slow breath.

“That same day, I learned my son wasn’t mine by blood.

We were both ruined humans. I was your mother’s Serpent mentor…

but I knew, even then, I was more than that to her. ”

Anger flared behind my ribs. “Then why? Why did she let Andri—my father, have children with someone else?”

“She didn’t want to lose him,” Hadrian said, his voice taut with restrained emotion.

“Fallon wanted to give his bloodline a chance. Her power… it was volatile. She feared a child might inherit too much of it. And Andri’s father made one thing clear: to earn his blessing, Andri would need to have a child with his truemate. ”

I gripped the edge of the table, my nails digging into the wood. “Then why am I here? Why did Victor’s bargain fail?”

Hadrian’s expression faltered, grief and guilt warring behind his eyes.

“Klaus and Knox are your half-brothers. Your father paid a Seeker years ago. It prophesied that only sons would be born to his line. He believed his first daughter would never come, so he gambled with her, never realizing Fallon was one step ahead. I didn’t know until I found my port cracked open and Caius confessed the truth. ”

“You didn’t know?” My voice came out hoarse. “You swear you didn’t know I was yours?”

“I didn’t,” he said, bitterly. “But I know now. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” He scoffed under his breath. “You lost years of your life in that frozen valley. If you’d been raised here, I would’ve taught you how to wield flame.”

“You will never be my father, Hadrian.”

“The cruelest part?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “She never needed to make that bargain with Victor. I would’ve given her everything. And you…” His gaze lifted to mine. “You would’ve grown up in a family that understood you.”

My head spun. I was unraveling from the inside out.

“There was an aide at the Academy,” I said quietly. “She told me my mother was pregnant with Charles.”