Page 102 of Burning Heir

“Have I tamed the Serpent?” I said. If I washed away with the shadows once those lanterns struck through the ground turned on, I’d accept my fate.

“You have done more than tame me.” There was a pause after, and I couldn’t meet his eyes even on my tippy toes.

My flame relic glowed, illuminated by a shadow, as did his—but it was speckled in ash. I leaned into him. And every part of me wanted to seal that bond between us, even the unwilling gnaw in my gut. I believed he also felt it when he leaned in, the slight arch in his shoulders that swallowed me against his body.

“How’s your heart?” he asked slowly.

“Bruised, I suppose. I’m mostly angry at myself for not seeing it.”

Archer stopped dancing, and I slammed hard on that final twirl into his chest. He reached within the slit of my gown and stole a sheathed dagger. Steadying me, but his face went cold—so had that burn within his palm. He hitched my hood over my head as he pushed me behind him.

“Keep your head down,” he hissed.

I followed Archer’s gaze as three six-foot-long scorpions scuttled along the path, their steel pincers snapping. First came the scavengers, but it was the four figures that followed them that chilled my blood.

Their expressions were wicked, eyes cold and unreadable. Pointed, rusted spheres scraped against the stone. They wore scuffed fur vests, the fabric stretched tight over their muscles and scars.

The glass slid from my grasp, shattering onto the ground.

“Scorpion riders?” I hissed.

“Yes, they are called Bribers around here. Much like Scavengers, but their enigmas are scorpions,” whispered Archer.

The one male leading grinned, liquid black eyes hidden beneath his brow bone’s shadow. A giant scorpion hissed, claws ready to attack. The entire crowd went still.

“I heard a Serpent was here,” he yelled. Scars covered his skin—marked with foreign relics. He pulled his cloak down, and a mound of black curls shaped his narrowed face.

It took everything in me not to grab Archer and force him to stay back. I knew his shadow quell could strangle them if the Briber attacked. But those silent pleas never escaped as Archer stepped forward, and our weak bond rippled.

“What do I owe the pleasure, Detria,” Archer asked.

Detria raised his chin as if tasting the air. “Are we not allowed to enjoy a festival? All are welcome during Harvest in the South.”

He opened his arms wide, stealing a goblet from a woman's hands and slamming the wine back. “And the wine is simply to die for me.”

“You know your kind is not welcome in the South, let alone Verdonia. I would not want a fight to ruin such a beautiful festival.” Archer’s voice was calm and assertive. “Now, what is it you seek? Because I know it is not oranges.” Archer glanced at the second female Briber, who was peeling an orange with a knife.

She grinned a wicked white smile, glancing at me with violet eyes. Her blonde, nearly white hair curled her slender jaw. She wore a feathered corset, plumping her cleavage.

Detria made a silvered-toothed grin. “We hear you are harboring a neval girl. Her blood sells for a hefty amount of gold. Give her to us, and we will be on our way.”

I kept my eyes low. He wanted me. Monty was telling the truth. Ash choked up my lungs. Kian flickered his gaze toward Archer, not daring to glance back and give me away.

Was I truly priceless, or were those just empty words?

“You are on my land, Briber. Leave now.” I had seen moments of Archer’s quell within the flickers of darkness, but never like this.

The sky muted to grey, and whatever shield Archer had used to conceal his shadows was now at full rein. Ripples grew from his open palm, and I realized I was in one as sounds bounced off the shield Archer had put off, echoing with a dissonance that could only be shouting. Flames shot from my palms—and even that shadow could not hold back my cindering ash.

Detria curled his fingers at me with a slight beckoning that made my skin crawl. “This is your father’s land. You have no say here. We will leave peacefully, but we need the neval. We wouldn’t want a repeat of last time.”

Were the Bribers our enemies? The ones whom Charles was warded to never speak about. “Why do you want my blood?” I asked with slim confidence.

Detria’s scorpion hissed, lunging at me with two sharp pointers. “Some say your blood holds power. I don’t ask questions.”

I aimed my flame at the scorpion’s face. Archer drew a bow, and I lit the tip seconds before it struck the Briber in the leg.

Detria groaned, yanking the arrow from his skin and snapping the metal in half over his knee. He stared between Archer and me as if he could see the shield extending between us and my pathetic attempt to hold my own up.

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