Page 77

The sound of drums echoed from the outskirts of Wrathi, their steady beat a call to the people, a summons to witness their new heir. The rhythm pounded in the air, reverberating off the stone streets as the townspeople gathered.

I stood at the center of the square, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. I was not just a name passed down in whispers. Not just the heir of a dying title. This kingdom was my blood, its weight, its fire, its grief. I carried it all.

Hadrian stepped forward and raised my hand high for all to see. “She is my burning heir,” he declared, voice ringing through the silence. “My flesh. My blood. My daughter. Her name is Severyn, and she is your newest heir.”

Motava, his wife, clapped once, and I found myself wondering whether their marriage had ever been forged from love.

Scoffs broke from the crowd, sharp and cutting like stones hurled at a throne not yet built. “A daughter?” someone shouted,

The word caught wind, passed from voice to voice. He took my hand, lowering it gently. “You were stolen from me your entire life,” he said. “I won’t waste a single moment earning the right to be your father. ”

But he was only that—my father by blood. Not by memory. Not by heart. I would never let him walk me down any aisle. I would never let him rewrite the history I’d fought to survive. Especially not when I still remembered the barrens, the refugees, the aides bought like livestock under this very sky.

I stepped forward, my hair tangled in the salted wind, the warmth of my quell pulsing inside me like a heartbeat.

“As my first act as heir,” I said clearly, my voice rising above the hush, “all refugees will be treated as civilians.”

The hush snapped. Murmurs stirred. Hadrian whirled toward me, his voice low and biting. “Severyn. This is not the moment to stir rebellion. Let them see your flame, not your politics.”

“They will see both,” I said. “Or your kingdom will learn how fractured your legacy truly is. You fathered me with a married woman while married yourself. Do you really think they won’t whisper?”

He gripped my wrist. “No heir of mine speaks to me like this.”

“Then you shouldn’t have made me your heir.”

His jaw clenched. “Any other demands?”

“Yes,” I said coldly. “Archer sleeps in my bed and you have no say about our relationship.”

His eyes flicked to Archer, then to the crowd. “Very well,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “The refugees will be released.”

The festival resumed in uneasy waves, the music swelling slowly until it smoothed over the tension.

Flame lanterns floated between balconies, drifting on invisible threads of heat and celebration.

We drank from carved wooden goblets, filled with house wine—dark, sweet, and fermented from cherry crops near the farmlands.

For the first time in days, I let myself breathe. Just the music. The sweetness of wine. The gentle press of warmth on my skin .

“Would you like another glass, miss?”

The voice came soft from behind, gentle, hesitant in a way that immediately set my cup trembling in my hand. I turned.

Silver-streaked hair. Familiar eyes. A pale blouse tucked into worn riding trousers. Her posture was straight-backed, proud, and graceful, like someone who had once known how to kneel but hadn’t in years.

“Estella?” My voice cracked. “You—you were petrified.”

“Not anymore,” she said, a soft smile breaking over her face as she stepped closer. “I’ll explain it all later. But you’re here… and Hadrian’s heir.” Her voice thickened. “Severyn, just look at you.”

Emotion surged so fast it stole the breath from my lungs. “You’re my aunt,” I whispered, the words catching on the edge of disbelief. “You’re my family.”

Estella reached up and gently brushed her fingers over the scar on my cheek, the same one she had once stitched. “Yes, my girl,” she said. “I am. And I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.”

Behind us, a quiet voice cut in. “You should go with Estella,” Archer said. “She’ll help you get your room in order.”

I nodded, still stunned, and followed her past the last row of stone cottages to a guesthouse tucked at the edge of the estate. Most of the fire damage had been cleared away, though a faint scent of ash lingered beneath the fresh earth.

The guesthouse was modest but elegant, its sloped gable roof framed by weathered shutters and climbing ivy. A soft glow spilled through a sun-cracked window, warming the air inside. At the center stood a canopy bed draped in citrine silk, its curtains catching the light like strands of fire.

“This will be yours for now,” Estella said, her voice low. “It was a bunker during the war used by elite scholars and spies. Should give you a bit of distance from my idiot brother. ”

A quiet laugh slipped out. “I thought I was the only one who thought that about Hadrian.”

She smiled, stepping closer to brush my bangs aside. “Any new cuts? Scars?”

“None that haven’t healed,” I murmured, glancing around the room again.

She folded her hands. “I’m not an aide anymore, at least not for now. I’ll be here. With you.”

I whispered, “You knew, didn’t you?”

Her expression softened. “Maybe two men searched all of Verdonia to find eyes like yours, and neither realized they were staring into their own blood.”

My throat tightened. “How long have you known? All my life?”

Estella sighed. “I wasn’t certain at first. But when Knox bonded with my wyvern, I began to wonder.

And when I stitched up your cheek and saw Hadrian in your face, I couldn’t deny it anymore.

But it wasn’t my truth to tell, only to carry.

Your mother was my best friend at the Academy.

I should be angry she had a child with my brother, but I suppose… it all worked out.”

I sank onto the edge of the bed. “Why is my whole life made of lies? I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

She sat beside me. “Because sometimes lies are stitched into place to keep us alive. Had you known the truth, you would’ve grown up here.

In Wrathi. You would’ve never met Andri.

Never known Klaus the way you did. And I know losing him nearly destroyed you, but.

.. that grief became part of who you are.

Every secret was meant to protect you. Even if it hurt. ”

I looked at her, aching for more. “Why did you tell me my mother was pregnant with Charles?”

Her lips parted, and for a long moment she said nothing. “Because you weren’t ready to break. If you had known how it shattered your mother’s heart to let Andri have a child with his bonded match, you would’ve lost whatever family tether you had left. You were barely surviving.”

I swallowed hard. “How powerful is a truemate bond, Estella? I need to understand.”

She exhaled slowly. “When a Serpent becomes a ruler, they hear a voice in their mind. It is painful to stay away. But that voice can promise power, lineage, and legacy. That voice leads them to someone whose bloodline will strengthen theirs. Some call it a soulmate. Others… a weapon. It is the most definite and unbreakable bond.”

A tear streamed down my face. “So, what happens?”

“You will rule over the kingdom of Wrathi. And I will be here for you, whatever you need, my dear. Smell the flowers, enjoy your life as an heir.”

A knock sounded at the door, and before I could open it Archer entered. “Well, this is quite a surprise,” he said.

She shook her head. “It is destiny. But if you break my nieces’ heart I won’t hesitate to stitch something that isn’t meant to be stitched.”

Archer shuddered. “I didn’t need that mental image.”

Estella cleared her throat, shooting him a withering glance before stepping toward the door. “I’ll send an aide tomorrow to check on you. I heard you’ve been in Malvoria, and gods the kind of horrors that place holds…” She didn’t finish the thought, just shook her head and left us alone.

Archer leaned against the wall, arms folded, his expression sobering. “Speaking of checkups… your body, your choice, always. But I wanted to ask, are you still on your fertility blocker?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Ugh. Yes. I’ve got a few weeks left.”

He stepped through a shadow in three strides. “Good. ”

I pressed a steady hand to his chest. “I told you, I won’t bond with you until I trust Tansia.”

He stilled. Then he exhaled and reached up to cradle my jaw with a gentleness that caught me off guard.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Horny? Perhaps. “It’s the truemate bond,” I said.

“Gods, it’s like my dick has a mind,” he said. “I didn’t realize how weak I was.”

“We don’t have to abstain,” I whispered, fingers trailing along the seam of his trousers. “We just can’t form a bond.”

His breath caught as I undid his belt buckle, slow and deliberate, grazing over the strain beneath. “You’re not the only one struggling to contain yourself.”

I tugged his pants down to his thighs, then turned my attention to his shirt, working each button open. With a soft kiss, I pressed my lips to his chest, tasting the warmth of his skin as I trailed up to his jaw.

“Undress for me,” he murmured, voice rough with want. “Slowly. Let me see you.”

I slid one strap off my shoulder, then the other. The gown slipped down my body, pooling at my feet on the cold stone. I stood before him, nearly bare.

His gaze traveled the length of me, slow and reverent. “Gods,” he said, voice gravelly with restraint.

I let my hand trail down my stomach, a flush rising to my cheeks as I slipped the edge of my underwear aside. “Like this?” I asked quietly.

He bit back a groan, eyes darkening. “Tell me how you feel.”

Heat curled through me. “You want me to…” I hesitated, the words catching. “To touch myself? ”

He didn’t flinch. “More than anything in this world. I want you to feel what I do. I want you to slide your fingers down and tell me how wet you are.”

I swallowed, breath catching. “I’ve never… I’ve never done that. Not like this.”

Something shifted in his expression—less hunger, more tenderness. “Then we don’t rush. You don’t need to be embarrassed, Sev. But one day,” he murmured, drawing me closer by the thigh, “I would love nothing more than to watch you come apart like that.”

His voice dipped lower. “But for now… spread your thighs and sit on my face.”

My legs fell open as he pushed a finger inside my opening and then licked and sucked until I was biting back moans. His hands left my body and began to undress his slacks.

“I take it back,” I said. “I’ll bond with you.” At this point, I was a horny mess practically grinding against his face.

He pulled me down, centering his erect cock near my opening. He slowly stroked the tip back and forth, coating both of us in my arousal. “I won’t open a bond with you, not until I know you mean it,” he said.

I whimpered as his tip slipped in and out at a tortuously slow pace. “Even if I beg?”

His arms wrapped around my waist, drawing me flush against him as he drove himself deep inside me, a low curse tumbling from his lips. “Even if you beg,” he whispered.

And I did beg, though not just for the pleasure. I think, deep down, I was desperate to know what he was thinking.