Page 13 of Burning Heir

Bridger scorned me, “Don’t help her, Blanche. Myla’s father was born in Icillian. She can tap into her distant blood.”

Ravensla was the hottest country in Verdonia. It was beyond cruel to allow Myla to face this, to be called to become a Winter Serpent.

No screams sounded after the first few moments. A half-hour passed. Then Bridger nodded at me.

“Let’s see if all those years of hiding like the little princess you are if you have it in you to know what real Winter is like.”

Scoffing, I said, “I can handle it.” I was the last to go down, but Bridger forced me to wait even as I took one final step toward the ice wall.

His fist went up with a slow shake of his head. “Patience, Severyn.”

“You’re going to kill me, Bridger,” I hissed through my chattering teeth. But I’d allowed him to see me crumble as frozen tears clung to my cheek.

His neck rolled. “I have every right to kill you, Severyn.” I didn’t know a grin could stretch that far as he hissed, “But I won’t ruin my image around the academy. I’ll instead let the cold kill you as it nearly did to me. First, your fingers will turn black before they die off. But your mind begins to stray before that.”

He reached for my trembling jaw, hands tight around my chin. “Tell me, has your mind gone yet?” Hooded silver eyes crept through me, colder than the ice rattling my bones.

It took everything in me not to tear his hands off my skin. But I leaned desperately into his cruel warmth, salvaging whatever heat escaped him.

Numbness crept up my joints, leaving the slow hammer in my chest a fighting chance. Bridger dropped his hand as I hissed, “My mind is fine.”

He allowed me to pass with a silent scoff when he saw my stiff legs stumble past him. Every bend of my knees sent sharp pain through me as my fingers scraped against the ice. I lowered myself, belly down, dragging across the frozen surface. Bridger loomed above, his white locks fluttering softly in the snow flurries. He reveled in my struggle—enjoyed the pain in my eyes as I descended, the panic on my face as I believed I’d fall to my death if my fingers didn’t loosen.

“I waited two years for the remaining Blanches to join. I think I’ll have some fun with you.” His lip curled into a mock pout. “Shame your brother couldn’t join us. He gets to live another day, unlike you.”

I clenched my jaw, willing myself not to lose my footing. My fingers felt like brittle glass with every slow, calculated movement, and the ice was slicker than ever from the last thirty-one hands that had touched it. I shouldn’t have glanced up, but the fury in Bridger’s eyes above me was worse than the dark, swirling pit below, where five bodies had already been swallowed by the growing snow.

They had come here to prove themselves—to become my father’s heir. The rest were struggling to stay warm, some running in place, others blowing into their palms. Only Myla’s eyes were on me, sharp and unblinking.

“Prove you’re worthy, Severyn,” he yelled down at me. “Prove to me you’re better.”

The cry that escaped my chapped lips betrayed me. “I am worthy.”

Bridger laughed. “I would never stoop as low as your father. Instead, I’ll watch you slip and fall to your death. It’s time a new leader took over the North. His wards are already failing. If he wasn’t screwing that neval mother of yours, maybe he would’ve learned more about shields at the academy.”

Bridger would break me.

He would claim our family’s title. The ache in my lungs tempted me to give in.

“My father is a great Serpent. The frozen lands are known for their extreme climates. You can’t change that.” The wind gusted again, and I clung to the wall, my cloak snagged on the ice.

The tip of his boots edged over in fearless spite. “I won’t allow another Blanche to destroy my home.”

I was a quarter down, and Bridger’s eyes hadn’t left my hands. If I fell now—best case, I’d break my legs, and the worst case, my neck. Or maybe that was the other way around. Perhaps death would be kinder than living under Bridger’s authority.

I needed to jump. I could survive with a broken arm, maybe a rib if I managed to roll. I tried to kick a hole into the ice, but only shavings came off. Grunting, I reached for the dagger against my hip, jamming my knee against a rock.

My foot slipped, and the ice crumbled under my weight. Pain shot through my hips as I hit the solid ground. I rolled onto my side with a groan, white-knuckling a button on the cloak. Myla’s hand appeared above me, her figure framed by a swirling cloud of storms.

Her soft brown gaze pulled me through the labyrinth of snow as I reached for her. “Thank you,” I stuttered.

I survived the wall.

“At least there’s plenty of ice to soothe that welt you’ll have after that fall.” She warmed me with her slight touch, pulling me against her side. Her presence reminded me of embers crackling beneath a flame, her gentle, soothing strokes along my arms calming the pain.

I tried my best not to imagine the bodies beneath me.

Desperate for any distraction from the shooting pain, I kept talking to Myla. “How do you enjoy the cold?”

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