Page 135 of Burning Heir

“Before Winter comes in a few months. I came for you and Knox, Sev. I came to see you win. I know you will become a great Serpent, Severyn. The Summer title called to you for a reason. Serpents run through your bloodline on all sides.”

“What if I win? And I become Serpent of Ravensla? I can… undo it. I can gift you the sun.” I’d crawl on my hands and knees to the warm North Colindale if I could—

His eyes told me all I needed to know. “Time is my enemy, Severyn. Winter will always be in your blood—don’t cry, my child.” A shaking hand brushed the dampness of my cheek, crystallizing the droplet. “You are not a caged bird, so I never clipped your wings. I made that barter, knowing I would never give you away. I stole time…”

“Your title will die.”

“And so, it shall.” No sadness hid within his voice—only genuine care. Care for my well-being, care for me to prosper and bloom.

I couldn’t save his title. I couldn’t save my father. I could bleed my boiling veins dry along the snowy peaks and cry out to any god that would listen to make me a Winter, but the frozen ground would never call back to me. My blood would only burn, and even burning would not save him.

If Bridger became a Serpent, he might save the land. I had to let go of the North and relinquish it to the hands of a man who’d hurt me, who’d forced me to fail. And so, I laid my life down for Winter—laid that boiled hatred for Bridger to rest because it would happen anyway.

“I’ll make you proud, Father. I promise on my life,” I whispered into his sleeve. I closed my eyes. “You should bid on Bridger Thorne. He’s from North Colindale.”

Father raised his chin as a shadow approached from behind. I turned to see Monty’s tight grin as he extended a hand toward me. “Come on, Andri, we would not want to take all of Severyn’s time up.”

Monty’s eyes motioned for me to take his hand, so I did. Not because I wanted to, but I wasn’t about to piss off Monty with all that he knew. I gave one last subtle nod to my father before I was dragged through the crowd of Serpents.

“Monty, what do you want with me?” I hissed as his grip tightened around my wrist, leaving the imprint of his fingers.

“Let’s see what you are, Severyn, without the protection of your Serpent. We both know about your Gemini bond. A dead dragon has risen. One way or another, I will rip the truth from you.” His pale eyes pierced through me as if daylight could sear. “Don’t fight it.”

Flame against sunlight. But his power was stronger, nearly blinding as my eyes burned with every vein illuminated beneathmy skin. He clutched my waist, and lashing ropes invaded my mind. I thought he’d stolen the light from my thoughts as he ripped back.

His lips were on my ear. “You are a hothead, Severyn, aren’t you? Flame needs release, and I know what you need.”

“Get away from me,” I muttered as he held me in place. I felt a pierce in my shield, a hole he’d punctured with light.

He gripped my jaw. “The blood of a Herring will spill. Shall I spill your blood, Severyn?” He licked his lips, sloshing the remainder of the red wine down. “Gods, I love secrets.”

I gasped for air as I healed that hole before his Serpent hooks could claw into me further and reveal my quell. I looked back to see Archer’s eyes locked on mine, shifting through the crowd. And it wasn’t flame keeping me together, but a steel shadow shielding me. Darkness bound the holes, refracting the light out.

Archer went to grab me. “Monty, release her.”

“Archer—” There were a thousand words in my mind. A thousand words I wanted to say to him at this moment.

Monty grinned, dropping my arm. “She’s yours for now.”

I inhaled sharply as I clung to Archer. “My father will die if Victor doesn’t drop his barter.” I didn’t care about Monty—or my own life. I needed to save my father.

His hand moved to my waist. His voice was quick and hoarse, as if the slight touch of me sent spasms of pain down his spine.

“My father won’t listen to me, Severyn. What barter are you talking about?”

“Our fathers bartered us, and mine never held up his end. Victor mentioned it at dinner.”

He looked down, then toward the king whom Monty was speaking to. As if the flickering flames had ears—I heard my name on his tongue.

The king rose from his throne, his golden serpent-shaped cane slammed into the onyx tile. “We have our first claim,” the king said enthusiastically.

Nearly every Serpent’s breath stilled as Monty stood near the front, glaring at me.

It all happened so fast. I stared at Archer as if desperation could save me from the king’s next words, “We have our first claim! Monty Garcia has claimed Severyn Blanche to win a title this year.”

Every eye turned to me like I’d grown horns and wings. Archer kept his hand around my waist. “No,” he breathed.

Monty claimed me. Monty. Claimed. Me. My world dimmed as I saw Monty’s cruel smile beside the king. Violent heat rose through my veins. I didn’t have the breath to scream as an invisible tether yanked me toward Monty. Archer’s grasp dropped unwillingly as Monty placed his hand where Archer’s was.

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