Page 99 of Burning Heir

I tightened my grip, my cheeks burning at the closeness. “How much am I worth?” I scoffed, trying to mask my flustered nerves.

“Priceless,” he murmured, his tone so soft it barely reached me over the clatter of hooves.

Heat rose to my cheeks again, and this time, I couldn’t hide it. I didn’t know how to respond, so I left the galloping stallion to take us through the never-ending paths.

The sun held high, soaking onto our backs as we rode eastbound. We passed by a few smaller towns near the outskirts of Ravensla, each just as vibrant as the last. A few scavengers walked through the desert lands, heavy woven bags high on their shoulders, chains and trinkets dangling from their baggy clothes. A row of sand warriors jutted in the distance. And I imagined the ferocity of that woman who stood before them, the fear staining their widened eyes as that woman struck them and made them into the sand.

Sand turned into grass, striking a lush garden of ivy and bramble. And it was as though we had entered another realm. The sun was hidden behind a cloud bank, giving a few moments ofshadow. We entered another township, crossing over a wobbling bridge where ocean water drew through the coastal village, winding along the paths. Grimswire. I read the silver sign as we passed under it. A few large ships swayed in the current, docked to stone. This village was richer than the others as guards patrolled the streets, ensuring each passing had met their eyes. The golden-haired guard nodded at Archer as we carried on. Colorful fish swam in pools beneath us. We passed a clock tower and a few pointed buildings made from silvered stone and other fine materials.

And it was as if every metal was welded to create this town. The grounds dazzled with a brilliant glow of diamond-crusted paths as we approached a gate that opened at our arrival, where willow trees and shadow surrounded a large estate. The home was a shrunken-down castle with ivy trailing up to one point. Archer jumped off the horse, helping me down as we walked to the front doors.

“You grew up here?” I choked.

“Yes. Grimswire was where I was born.” The door opened, and a male stood near the opening.Damien?He had dark hair with a tanned complexion. That same sharp jawline and dimpled left cheek as Damien.

No, it was Kian, the third Lynch brother. This entire family was beyond attractive.

“Archer—” Kian wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck, then his hazel eyes flickered at me. They were darker around the iris, flecked with brown swirls within. “And who is this lovely creature?”

Archer’s hand hovered the small of my back, his touch light. “Severyn Blanche. Remember her face because she will be your mentor next year,” Archer said with a grin.

“So, she is the girl from your letters?” Kian responded with a soft chuckle that struck the hair on my spine to rise. “You are right—she is beautiful. If I were you, Sev, I’d run away now.”

What was happening? Archer wrote letters about me. I swallowed hard, failing to keep my voice steady as Kian embraced me with one slender arm. “Damien and I are great friends, too.”

He snapped his finger. “That’s right, it was Damien who wrote about you. I suppose your little romance ended when you got pushed in line to take the Southern throne. Not all is fair in love and title.” Kian took a step back, allowing us to enter. “Make yourself at home, Sevy. There’s a fresh pot of tea on. Your room is on the second floor across from Archer’s. And if you get scared at night, my bed is always open.”

Sevy. That’s a new one.

Archer jabbed Kian’s ribs. “Be respectful.”

Kian smirked. “I’m only looking out for Severyn. Surely she hasn’t had enough Lynch in her life.” He nudged me as I walked past him. “You know I’m joking, right?”

Warmth hit my face. It was a sense of welcoming. I glanced at Kian and laughed. “Right now, you seem to be my favorite.”

The walls were dark gray, their shadows deepened by the flickering light of a log fireplace. At the center of the room lay a fur rug, unmistakably from some Summer beast, its hide stretched and worn with age.

A painting hung on the wall depicted a family of five. The mother, fair-skinned with piercing silver eyes and auburn hair, rested a graceful hand on the eldest son’s shoulder—a boy of about twelve. Beside him, two younger boys grinned wide, their toothy, mischievous smiles brimming. My gaze caught on one face.

Damien.

And then, standing tall at the edge of the frame, a man with a dark complexion and hazel eyes froze me in place. A serpent tattoo coiled around his neck, nearly identical to Archer’s.

I lingered on his stare longer than I intended, a chill prickling my skin. There was darkness behind those smiles, a shadow I couldn’t ignore. Any warmth I’d felt in the room evaporated in an instant.

Damien had to live knowing what his father had done, and no one believed him. I felt for Kian being left alone in this grand home as his two brothers ventured off. I saw myself in him, but at least I had Knox. My family might have had secrets, but none like this. Nothing that made my skin crawl.

I quickly looked down, and Archer studied me. “My father is not here if that is what you are wondering.”

I turned on my heel, glancing between the two brothers. “I wasn’t,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Well, are we going to enjoy this festival or not? Or was this dress for nothing?” I twirled once, showing off the slim-fitting gown. I had to admit Archer had good taste.

Kian snorted, softly punching his brother in the arm. “Archer does not partake in festivals. Good luck getting that hard ass even to smile.”

There were a few beats of silence. “Would you like to go?” Archer asked.

I shot a coy glance at Kian, who pressed his lips thin. “Yes,” I said. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Archer seemed annoyed, but I didn’t care. I wanted to soak in all that Ravensla had to offer. “Very well, but you’ll need more daggers on you.” Archer motioned with his eyes to the spiral staircase beside the living room.

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