Page 149 of Burning Heir

A faint shudder went down our bond as Archer spoke,“You weren’t ready.”

I sucked a breath of cool air down my lungs, dodging the second blow of fangs—barely. I’ve trained for this. I’ve trained for months.

Shadows crawled within me, suffocating my lungs with each draw. The flames in my palm faded into a liquid black rope. Istruck the lindworm’s broad frame, curling that black smoke around its wavering neck. Its scales sizzled, breaking free from my quell.

I screamed at my mother, cursing with each breath, “Why didn’t you tell me what you were? For months, I’ve been uncovering your bloodline.”

“Our bloodline, Severyn. We were never meant to be someone’s shadow. It is time we take back what is ours. You’ll be dead the second you return to the academy. They will strip you of your quell. Do you think you’ve kept it hidden?”

“I had no choice.”

And I didn’t. I saved Knox from the burden of grief, even when I was that trial for him. I’d saved Knox twice, Myla, to keep my mind sane.

The snake struck me again on my palm, piercing into my flesh. I screamed in pain as I rose, trying to muster a spark again. “I will not die,” I cried.

I only had the darkness to will. My flame relic was pierced.

“Wield the snake!” Mother screamed. “Tame it.”

Bloody ash hissed through my clenched teeth. I raised my fist, just as my mother had done, and the snake followed.

Mother grinned under her concealed hood, those glassy eyes fixed on my every quiver. I raised my other fist, and the snake lifted its curious head, hissing.

And all those snakes I’d willed into my flame—their hisses echoing as embers sparked to life—they had been warnings, whispers of a power I could wield. A power I could claim, just as the Forgotten once had.

Victor wasn’t far off.

“Claim it,” Mother hissed. “You are my blood, child.”

Tears welled in my eyes. I blinked, turning around as I twisted both fists and heard the snap of the snake’s torso, bones wrappingtogether. I fell to my knees, dragging my nails along the bloodied dirt.

A vibrant ray of light shattered from the mangled creature. Something hot clung to my spine, melting through my leathers. I screamed in agony, begging anyone to relieve the pain and torture.

Shreds of my leather tore off my back, and only my wrap covered my breasts as every fabric on me cindered in flames.

I was bare. Bloody. Half-alive and broken.

A Serpent born through deception, a false guard of the moon.

Not one person helped me. Not the guards sworn to their posts. Not Myla or Charles. Even my own mother watched diligently as my skin melted with each twist.

“It hurts,” I sobbed. “Help me.”

It was a pain like no other. Not grief, not a broken wrist. It was the pain of loss.

Charles’s golden eyes stared from a distance. Disgust. Fear. Terror bore through his unmoving features.

“A Serpent was born,” Mother hissed, “now it is time to claim what is rightfully ours.” Her voice faded, but the sear in my spine intensified until I could no longer see or speak. My cheeks gritted against the rocks, eyes tracing the slender moon soaking me in light.

A blanket of soft silhouettes consumed me as my mind went dark.

Chapter Thirty-One

A cool towel was wrapped around my spine. Silk brushed my cheek and body. Groaning in pain, I saw Archer leaning against an unfamiliar stone wall.

“Archer,” I whispered.

Archer clenched his jaw. “What were you thinking coming here? You could have died.”

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