Page 14 of Burning Heir

“I’ve never even seen snow before,” Myla said, a hint of pride lacing her voice. “I’m quite proud of myself for scaling down that mountain.”

“Why were you chosen for Winter?” I asked. “Your father is a Serpent?”

“My father was the Serpent for Icillian for thirty years before he died. I had no idea. The surprise on my face when he shipped me my inheritance, a whole sword collection from the Forgotten days,” she said. “We’re called children of offering—where aSerpent has children with another realm in hopes of enhancing their bloodline. Turns out, I was his only child.”

“You never knew?”

“No,” she said, stretching with a groan. “It makes sense why I was placed in Winter now. Makes me feel connected to him in a way. My mother, on the other hand, is a seamstress. She made gowns for the Serpents of my country.”

“My brother got placed in Day. I thought Winter was my entire bloodline until three hours ago.”

“My guess is you were part of the offering bid they had. I’m sure a lot of students here are mixed. It’s going to cause for some interesting trial days.”

I shivered, and Myla wrapped her arms around my shoulders again. “My parents met here, actually,” I whispered into her wool cloak. “I don’t imagine we get much free time here?”

The same student who went first crossed his arms over his chest. Shadowed beneath the scruffed fur of his cloak, he stared on. “We should keep walking the trail. I’m Hunter. Born in Winborrow,” he said. “I’m not usually a dick, but, hey, first impressions matter.”

Myla and I nodded. Walking seemed better than waiting for death to find us. Bridger was just another like him—trying to be the first in his bloodline to win a title.

Amid the murmurs, I learned that only Myla and I were born of Serpents. Some of the others had distant grandfathers who’d worn the title decades ago, and now they were trying to earn it back. More than half of the students here wanted to kill me. They wanted what I had.

But how could I explain how sheltered I’d been? How I’d felt the sun for the first time just yesterday? How I felt weak—entitled even—to believe I deserved to be called Serpent?

Knox didn’t carry the weight of a hundred-year legacy on his shoulders.

In a clearing, six cabins lined the ocean of slushed ice. The beach, covered in frozen sea urchins and starfish, clung to rocks. It seemed wrong for the ocean to freeze, to gaze along the coast and see that black abyss of shadows crawling with each wave. The wind died against the trees slowly, thankfully. I knew I wouldn’t reach the Serpent Rite if I didn’t rest my aching joints—I knew Bridger wouldn’t let me make it that far.

I wondered what Knox was doing and if he was enjoying the Daylight realm. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than scaling down a frozen wall. What kind of initiation was he placed through? If he, too, had begged for his life to be spared tonight.

The academy will break you. Had my innocent gaze cried enough ice to prove my worth as I thought of those grey corpses?

Chapter Four

I collapsed onto a cot with Myla lying next to me. She’d draped her cloak over both of us, and I thanked her through my trembling jaw, knowing I’d be dead by dawn without her help.

On day two of initiation, my body felt worse. Every muscle groaned in protest as I limped to the cabin door and stepped into the flurries of dawn. Snowcapped mountains framed the clearing, and moss-flecked boulders, deprived of sunlight for decades, jutted along the horizon. Congealed ice curled with each wave in the distance, drowning out the ringing in my ears. The crunch of bones I’d dreamt of all night lingered, haunting me.

Bridger stood by the fire, freshly showered, while Myla sat on a carved log, eating porridge. Forcing a grin, I flattened my palms near the flame, trying to warm them.

“I’m starving,” I muttered, sitting beside her.

She passed me the bowl of porridge. “Take the rest. I didn’t realize there’d only be enough to feed ten of us.”

Ten. Only ten could eat.

I hesitated. “I can’t take your food, Myla.” She’d already done enough for me, and I owed her my life.

Bridger scoffed, his voice dripping with derision. “How long can someone survive without food, Severyn?” He spat my name like venom, legs spread as he basked in the fire’s warmth.

I forced a sharp smile. “Careful, Bridger, you might warm your cold heart if you get too close to the flame.” I took a spoonful of the oats. Myla nudged the bowl toward me, her eyes urging me to have more.

“Thank you, Myla,” I said earnestly. Every word of gratitude I’d uttered to her that cold night had been genuine—even my apologies for my chattering teeth.

Eleven more students joined us over the next half hour. Bridger scooped the last of the porridge into his bowl, licking his fingers clean. When the remaining cabin doors creaked open, I closed my eyes as those students realized the food was gone.

Bridger stood, brushing crumbs from his coat. “Those who are hungry should’ve woken up earlier. If you beg, you will never thrive.”

His words weren’t for the group—they were a direct jab at my father. I knew exactly what he thought of me.

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