Page 23 of Burning Heir

“Who is Bridger?” He asked, smiling with those beaming hazel eyes.

I crossed my arms, staring at the hand still on my shoulder. “A student.”

His eyes stroked me down, not shying away from my breasts. “Neval hair, and you’re hanging out with Malachi Herring. You must be quite interesting.” He passed me a darkened bottle of liquor he’d already drunk a quarter of.

I shook my head. “No thanks. I prefer to be coherent for my first classes tomorrow.”

“Docile as well.” He flashed a quick smile. “My name is Damien. Second-year, Summer.”

“Severyn.” I quickly noticed that a last name held power around here, and from how many death wishes I had upon me, I couldn’t admit more. “First-year, Winter.”

He took the bottle back, holding the rim against his lower lip. “A Winter student. Now, that would be my last guess.”

“And why is that?” I asked.

He glanced at Myla and the four other Winters walking toward the fire. A Serpent relic pinned to his shirt caught my eye. I assumed he was vying to claim the heir, as the Night female from the Rite speaking with Archer wore the same emblem.

“Because Archer chose you for his roster—it’s unheard of for students not to be placed under the house of their called realm,” Damien said.

“Winter is not a weak realm. Just because we don’t ride dragons doesn’t mean we aren’t strong,” I shot back.

Damien raised his hands defensively, his palms rough with callouses. For a moment, I found myself counting them. Scars marred his chest, visible through the v-shaped gap in his tunic. “I am the last person who’d want to get stuck in a snowstorm. I admire it, honestly. Winter is quite alluring to me. I mean, who doesn’t love dry skin and goosebumps.”

“I think you’re insulting me,” I said.

More scars lined his forearm, jagged cuts that lacked any discernible pattern. I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask about them.

“I prefer brutal honesty.”

I glanced at Malachi, who was sitting on Monty’s lap now. “Tell me about Malachi. Brutal honesty.”

“Shall I add demanding to that list?” He tilted his chin. “One drink equals one answer.” He shoved the glass bottle into my chest again, his lip pouting slightly.

“Fine.” I took a heavy sip—thrusting burns quenched my dried lungs. It was tangy, with hints of orange. But it was definitely booze. “Now, tell me about Malachi.”

His smile turned smug. “The king had five grandchildren, and each one died at the academy because they were the heir of Verdonia. But since Malachi is the last living grandchild. A Serpent will take the throne if Malachi dies after the king passes. There is this game the students play each year a Herring attends the academy called, ‘Who can Kill the Herring First.’ The sixSerpents this year are the Continent’s youngest rulers, so the king chose them to mentor this year as the runners to claim his title.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Archer saved Malachi tonight because she would have been killed if placed under Tydon’s mentorship. Why do you think he hasn’t taken his eyes off her?”

A beautiful blonde student was sitting on his lap, giggling, but his eyes were on Malachi. She even had his leather jacket draped over her vined shoulders.

“So, Archer loves Malachi?” I breathed. This was…deadlygossip.

Damien snorted. “No. Not like that. Archer vowed to keep Malachi safe.”

There seemed to be secrets everywhere. My mother’s mystery of her wielding death and being publicly stripped of her quell. The unknown Day blood that gurgled through my veins—our veins—Klaus’s placement in Summer. Nothing made sense.

I shifted my weight, changing the topic. “What is your quell?”

A disapproving tsk sounded from his mouth. “You don’t just ask someone their quell. Where are your manners, Severyn? I’ve told you four things. Tell me something about you.”

I pointed to Knox. “That’s my brother, Knox. My eldest brother Charles is a guard for Malvoria.” I didn’t mention Klaus. I knew once death was brought up—he’d linger. Linger in the sigh Damien would give me, followed by his words of condolence. I learned how to respond, having done it repeatedly.

Damien rolled his eyes. “That’s common knowledge. Tell me something I can’t find in the library, and don’t give me some scripted response.”

I pressed my lips together. No one had ever drawn interest in me, and thinking back on my life, I was rather dull. “I’m terrified of birds and am forced to bond with one for the rest of my life.”

He waved a hand in the air. “Tell me a secret. We are fighting for our lives, more or less a title. I’m pretty good at listening. You might die tomorrow. We all could.”

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