Page 110 of Burning Heir

The next hour was filled with the sound of silverware on plates as we ate fire-roasted zucchini and sea-salted pork. Their aide kept her head low tonight, hidden in shadows in the corner of the dining room, not daring to speak a word or join us as she had the night before.

A wave of anxiety thrummed through me whenever Victor’s eyes swayed over me. All it would take was one question: “What is your quell?” And he’d know I was a Summer and in line to becomehisheir. He must suspect.

“I hear your brother is the Malvoria Institute of Guards commander. Charles, right? I was there for three days. Does he ever have those initiations in line?” Victor said between bites of zucchini. “It’s a shame he never went on to accept the title. He could have been a Serpent, a powerful one at that.”

My fork slipped, clanging on the wooden table. “Charles enjoys his career. I’m sure he could have been a great Serpent.” My voice was quiet, and I thought Victor might yell at me to speak louder.

“Well, now that Kian is a Shadow, I must ensure Damien succeeds. I would not want some stranger coming onto my land. I know your father was hopeful at least one of his children would become his heir. You can thank your Scavenger mut of a mother for that. For lack of a better word, her entire bloodline is mud.”

I gripped the knife, contemplating stabbing his throat with it. “Excuse me. How dare—”

Kian’s eyes widened to saucers. “Father, tell me about your latest travels. Malvoria is a long way from here.”

My fingers curled around the dining room table. “If my mother was a scavenger, why did she have a quell?”

“As I said, your mother’s blood was mud. Fallon knew I’d win Serpent our years together. She knew her best bet was to marry whatever man would look at her. Andri was roped into her lies.”

Boiled tears brimmed my heavy lids. I clipped my tongue between my front teeth, biting down to stop the curses I was about to shout.

Then Archer’s shadows bound my wrist to the chair, darkness rippling through my hoarse breath. “Well, my mother seems to live in people’s minds. I suppose she made her mark.”

“Your mother murdered innocents. It is not something to be proud of.”

“That’s—she’s… my mother wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“If I remember correctly, it was twelve lives she took during our Serpent Academy years… including her scavenger parents.”

Victor grinned, leaning back in the golden dining room chair as he crossed an ankle over his knee. “Not to worry, Severyn. I don’t think any Serpent will have you on their mind during the bid. Your father owes me something. It’s only a matter of timebefore that failed bargain catches up to him. You should be gracious that I never sent the Bribers to retrieve what was owed to me.”

I seethed through my barred teeth. “What barter did you make?”

Victor snapped his fingers, and the aide rushed to clear the plates. “Perhaps you should ask him yourself,” he hissed, and ocean water flurried as he raised his hand, vanishing before my flame could cinder through Archer’s rope of shadows.

“That didn’t go very well,” I whispered.

“He knows I was shielding you,” said Archer. “But that is all. If we leave tonight, he’ll suspect we’re hiding something.”

I closed my eyes. “Then I suppose we’ll leave at dawn.”

If there were two people I never wanted to have dinner with again, it would be Victor and the king.

After dinner, I sat in the armchair in Archer’s room. Shadows and dark wards swirled across the walls like sentinels.

I didn’t regret coming here—not when I’d seen the beauty of Ravensla and met Kian. I’d protect him next year—if I was still alive.

I curled into the soft fabric of the chair as Archer stepped inside the room after his shower. I forced myself not to stare at the ripple of shadow dripping from his hair. He was something forged in my dreams, and the Serpent of the Shadows held his title well.

And I’d kissed him. Passionately kissed the Serpent of Shadows.

I was still in that slim-fitted red dress when I got up and asked, “Could you undo the zipper for me?” My chin angled toward him as I watched him step toward me from the corner of my eye.

A hand lowered on my neck, fingers dragging down my spine slowly as he undid the zipper.

“Where would you like your serpent mark to be if you had a choice? Perhaps, your shoulder.” His nails dragged against my collarbone and kept sweeping lower.

“Right there,” I said as his fingers paused in the center of my spine. “I’d want it to be on my spine, wrapping along my ribcage.”

He brushed his fingers underneath my gown, dragging the tips of his nails against my ribs, skimming my breastbone. “Right here?” he said, his voice thick and sultry.

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