Page 19 of Burning Heir

No Serpent would choose me at the Rite. Not if they knew I’d lose my mind before the night ended.

“Find him,” it called once more.“He waits in slumber.”

Chapter Five

Bridger led us through the Autumn woods toward the academy. Vibrant leaves danced between life and death, the crisp air biting my cheeks in the warmest way I’d felt in two days. Scaling the ice wall had been strenuous, but the two-hour hike through peaks and sprawling grass was even more exhausting. Unmarred blue skies stretched overhead, the awakening I needed for the Rite.

All first-years were organized by last name. Myla stood further back, her egg secured with a sling to her hip. Robi’s hatchling had grown overnight, now the size of a house cat, its white feathers fluffed out. I tried petting it earlier, but it nearly bit my finger off.

I repelled griffins.

The crowd seemed smaller than the first day. Exhaustion brimmed in the students’ wide eyes. Lacerations marked their arms and cheeks. We all struggled to survive during those initial days, which perhaps humbled me.

The six Serpents stepped into the entrance of the academy hall. Archer was the last to join. He wore a long-sleeved dress shirt tucked into dark pants. The serpent on his neck clenched, its two sets of daggered eyes wavering. He looked bored, as if this Rite was the last thing he wanted to attend. Monty gave a sly grin with a hand perched beneath his chin. I kept sight of Jenessa, pleading she’d cast a glance at me.

Bridger gave us the rundown of the Rite as we traveled back to the academy. Jenessa, the Serpent of Winborow—the fifth Frozen Valley in Verdonia—chose Bridger to decide who went on. My odds were unfavorable. Time slipped away as I stared at the ticking grandfather clock across the hall. Knox stood beside me, silent as if Day had stripped more than just his voice and beard. I hardly recognized him without the pubescent wires clung to his jawbone.

If I weren’t chosen today, I would be sent to Malvoria, and my family would lose everything.

I whispered to Knox, “I need you to kill Bridger Thorne if I don’t make it.”

He darted his eyes at me. “We’re supposed to stay quiet, Sev.”

Monty Garcia was the first Serpent to call names forward. His black hair appeared almost blue-hued under the lanterns, but daylight rippled along the bends and curves of his knuckles as he read his chosen twelve names off a scroll. “Gwen Sidhu, Novely Hastings, Knox Blanche…”

I stopped listening once I heard Knox’s name. He gave a shuttered sigh, taking his place behind Monty.

The headmaster shook each hand enthusiastically. I figured he favored Day from the shattered prisms I’d seen in his eyes as he smiled at them.

Knox was safe. Yet, his group had started with nearly the same amount as us, and only three weren’t chosen.

Bile rose in my throat as I saw what initiation Knox had gone through. Blood cracked the beds of his nails, marring his dirtied tunic. Day’s initiation was not a wall of ice but a leap of cruelty—the blood of another in return for power.

My bleak thoughts simmered as Levisly stepped forward, vines lacing her smooth, porcelain skin as her fingers gripped a rolled scroll.

Spring had come and gone. Eleven were no longer students but products of Malvoria as they were dragged by their arms out of the estate. Dewed lashes blinked, surrendering with a final stare at Levisly. Summer was more cutthroat. Saani spared no grins for the crowd of eager students as only ten names were called from her list.

A male thrashed his arms as a guard hauled him back. “My father will demand my return,” he screamed, spitting a crimson brine on the onyx stone. “To hell with you all.”

Autumn’s choices left nothing but questions as he called those twelve names one by one, and not a whisper of Herring sounded from his lips. Margaret and Cormac, two of Autumn’s newest initiations, gave Malachi a silent weep as they left her behind.

Jenessa stepped forward. I watched her lips, her every breath as she glanced at the parchment in her hands that Bridger had slipped her moments before.

“Myla Reinhart… Robi Wills, Chanvin Lynn.” She said nine more names, but none were mine.

My knees buckled. What do I do?

Nothing. I could do absolutely nothing but grieve my failures as those twelve chosen to become my father’s heir stepped past me.

A silver gaze swept toward me, white locks of fury shifting closer. Myla’s boots echoed past before taking her place behind Jenessa. Her eyes wandered around the room, the slight of theunchosen and Night staring back. She knew I would leave—knew her warrants of unselfish warmth were for nothing.

Half of those who received letters would be sent to Malvoria.

The grandfather clock ticked three times, my heart seven.

Bridger grabbed my wrist tight. “Wouldn’t want you to be late for the boat to Malvoria,” he hissed, lips against my ear. “You’d be dead in a week anyway.”

I ripped from his grasp, but he lodged his knee between my legs. “Get off me,” I hissed.

---