Page 129 of Burning Heir

He took a complete step back, exasperated and pale. “Severyn,” he began. “Something… is horribly wrong.”

I gripped the bare stone wall.

He stood silently.

It took me a moment to understand, but I’d seen the same shakes in Estella and Charles.

“This complicates things,” I said, arms slacked at my sides. “You’ve been warded.”

His head shook slightly. “You are shielded, Severyn. It’s a powerful one at that. The king has no idea what you are to him. He thinks you are his blood but not his granddaughter. Telling him will only place you in the light of vengeance and greed. I’m guessingthishas something to do with it.”

“Does he think you’re a danger to me?”

“Not me. If the Night realm fails, our entire Continent is at risk. Whoever put the shield on you wants you… away from me.”

I leaned against the wall. “I don’t understand.”

“You are shielded, Severyn. Someone put a shield on you during the days I was gone.” He closed his eyes.

Telling the king the truth would mean his secrets would come crawling out. It had to be bold. It had to be tomorrow. No longer would this secret be kept. No longer would I live in the shadows of Summer. I’d do it for Estella. And maybe releasing this secret meant Archer could be shielded from me forever. But I’d kept silent during Callum’s attack, and I had no choice but to let this secret scream.

I kept my place against the wall, resisting every desire to smooth over those frown lines on Archer’s forehead.

Bound by life.

We were bound bylife,and every bond endured throughout the decades within it.

He stepped back unwillingly as I said, “I need you to leave my room.”

Archer left with a subtle nod—as if kissing me had wounded him more than any laceration.

That night seemed to draw on longer than usual, as if the moon heard my cries and decided to hover longer. Tomorrow would call for more than the truth to be spilled, but blood.

A Herring’s blood will be spilled.

Had that been Knox? Had I saved the prophecy from becoming the truth? I needed to break this shield. I needed to tell the truth—but how much would that cost me? Was my life truly priceless when a secret buried under wards and shields could resurface, dragging everything into chaos?

Daylight pierced through the window, casting rays across the shards of the broken mirror. The chirping of birds filled the air, their melody a haunting contrast to my dread. I dragged myself out of bed, my limbs heavy, my thoughts heavier.

After a cold shower, three aides entered carrying a cart of supplies. One held the red dress, motioning for me to step into the lace black undergarments. My chest was pinned upright. Every strand of hair was twisted and pinned into place, and my skin shimmered under the light powder and glitter dusted over every limb.

“Is this necessary?” I asked as the male aide brushed a cool liquid over my eyelids.

“If you are to be a Serpent, you are expected to look like one,” he replied curtly. “This gown has not seen the light of day in nearly forty decades.”

I caught my reflection in the window. The gown clung to me like a second skin, velvet bones hugging my ribs and cascading into flowing lace. Diamonds stitched into the hem dragged lightly against the floor, catching the morning light. My hair framed my face in soft waves, my neval streak sweeping over my left eye. Inky silver lined my lids, and deep copper shadowed beneath. My lips glowed like fresh blood, and my cheekbones were sharply defined.

The aides stepped back, nodding in approval before leaving. I strapped two daggers to my thighs, the only part of the dress thick enough to conceal them.

A soft knock sounded before Damien entered, his smug grin already in place. “Severyn Blanche, you clean up nicely. I never thought I’d see you without blood caked somewhere on you.”

His black suit fit him perfectly, the low neckline revealing the scars on his muscled chest. His left eye bore a faint red mark where the glass had sliced him.

“You look good,” I said, my shield snapping into place as his gaze flickered to the shards of glass on the floor. I knew he’d already pieced together the image of Archer in my room.

Damien’s heel crushed a shard as he stepped closer. “Do I dare ask about the glass?” He smirked, brushing a finger over one of my hidden daggers. “You can’t bring these, Severyn.”

Before I could protest, he plucked the blades from their sheaths and hurled them into the wall, the clang of metal against stone ringing out.

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