Page 72 of Burning Heir

“Those who have swords will spar against each other. Daggers, you will team up,” Monty announced. His eyes narrowed at the two of us who were daggerless. “Those who do not have daggers will be granted the use of quells. Robi, you are against me. Severyn, you will duel Archer.”

My eyes widened, locking onto Archer’s. Heat prickled my palms. A shadow coiled at my feet, and in a heartbeat, Archer was standing inches away. Darkness spilled from his hands, fluid and graceful, stealing my breath. I bit back the curses threatening to slip free.

Draped in a black sleeveless top, his muscles rippled, veins pulsing with life. The serpent tattoo on his neck seemed alive, slithering and tightening with each of his movements. He leaned in, his closeness that of a predator savoring its prey—I was the prey he’d been hunting for hours.

A phantom wind teased my hair. “Be respectful and bow, Severyn Blanche,” Archer said smoothly, dipping his head just enough to feign respect.

“Like hell,” I hissed.

Monty craned his neck, flashing me a crooked grin. “Feisty.”

Archer lowered his head, hands laced behind his back. He motioned with his eyes for me to go first.“Shall I heat you, Severyn?”His voice was a static stroke in my mind.

Archer could speak to me telepathically, and it was worse than having my thoughts devoured by a mind reader. I didn’t want his voice colliding with the walls of my mind, let alone to hear Naraic’s and my private conversations.

Heat surged through my veins, pooling in my palms. Facing Archer made it easy to unleash the anger buried deep in my bones. I poured every bitter thought, every unsaid curse, into the black spark coiling in my hand. It slithered into a silent flame, snapping at his leather shoes just as he stepped back.

Too many channels converged—one Damien controlled, one only Naraic could hear—all fusing into a chaotic, unrelenting current.

I screamed in my mind,“I wouldn’t if I were you.”

A faint response echoed back,“Are you threatening a Serpent?”His brow arched in spite.

I scoffed, shaking. Every vein within me felt like it might burst and spew molten blood.

“Is that all you have, Severyn?”Archer raised his palm, and a thundering shadow rippled from his body. His eyes glowed black as darkness consumed half the combat grounds.

A shaded rope seized my waist, dragging me closer. Archer grabbed my wrists, pinning them to his chest. I struck my flame, scorching his fingers and whatever fabric lay between my wrath.

“No,” I hissed.

“Keep your palms open. Klaus could light fires with his eyes. Do not wield the flame. Become it.”

He was training me to use my quell. To control it. And as much as I hated him, I needed to learn.

A pale light shone from Monty’s eyes, shredding through the darkness and turning the field into a haze of grey smog. Archerdidn’t release my wrists as I tried to pull back. Even his heart didn’t quicken.

I braced, my body shaking. “I can’t!” I yelled.

“Burn, Blanche,”he said louder, his voice cutting down our faint bond.“Burn me.”

His chest must be blistered by now—my fingertips branded into his skin, marking him with my own relic of hopelessness.

He kept my hands pinned above his heart. Three, four, five beats. That rhythmic hum picked up.

“You are the weakest one here. Not a single dagger, and you expect to fill Klaus’ shoes. Show me what you have, Blanche.”

I lifted my eyes to his shadowed face and swore his breathing became uneven. I gripped his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric. He shoved my wrist toward the sky as ash rained from the clouds. The willow tree behind us burst into flames, and the grass beneath my feet formed a ring of fire. Every nail on my hand flickered with flame. Smoke, ash, and screams consumed the combat grounds.

And he didn’t snuff out my fire with shadows. Instead, he allowed me to burn.

“She’s going to burn the grounds to nothing,” Everett hissed.

“Let her,” Archer growled. Something dark flickered in his eyes as he held me, his hands steady on my cindering skin.

Three more trees burst into flames as my eyes darted around. I fell to my knees, curling into a ball, burning my own flesh as I tried to stifle the ravenous flames. Hands gripped my shoulders—not Archer’s, but Damien’s.

“Look what you did,” Damien yelled at Archer. “She’s a mess!”

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