Page 10 of Severed Heir

“Oh, I’m aware, but any idiot who pays gold to capture someone with a blonde streak in their hair, I’ll take them up on their offer.”

The scorpion veered sharply, and I nearly lost my hold on the beast. “Have you captured a lot of us?” I asked, voice tight. Maybe I had distant family out there. I never had time to trace Veravine’s lineage.

“Every name I bring in is worth fifty coins,” Sabitha said coolly. “But I don’t think you have any gold. Your father’s land is dying. And your Serpent doesn’t care that you’re here.”

“That’s not true,” I snapped. “Archer cares.”

She let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “You mean your scandalous little rendezvous with Archer Lynch in Ravensla? I’m honestly shocked the rest of the Continent didn’t find out sooner.”

The words hit like ice water. “People knew?”

“A first-year Serpent student sharing an inn with a crowned ruler?” She raised a brow. “That kind of story spreads faster than fire.”

My heart thudded. “They printed it?”

“Front page. If I recall correctly, it read something likeSerpent Leader Hides with Potential Heir in Plain Shadows.”

“They didn’t name me.”

“You were a no-name back then. You still are. Heirs are replaceable.”

I sat in stunned silence, the dark landscape stretching endlessly ahead. Had I been watched since the day I stepped foot on Academy grounds?

“I never saw any journalists,” I said, mostly to myself.

Sabitha gave a low chuckle. “Journalists are everywhere, Severyn. They don’t just chase bloodlines. They chase stories. The quills, the parchment, the ink, they’re all tools for spying. Valscribe is competitive for the next big story and is as fierce as the competition for a future heir at the Serpent Academy.”

“My brother attends Valscribe,” I said, more out of habit than necessity. “He’s an amazing writer.”

Sabitha’s eyes flicked to me, a flash of something unreadable crossing her face before she spoke. “I’ve yet to hear about an heir being titled. That would be the grandest literature your brother would ever write. Though, I hate my family, do what you will with that information.”

A lump formed in my throat at the mention of Cully. “I don’t know where he is,” I admitted quietly. “Last I heard, he was at the prisons. And if you’re so keen on gold, why not tell the Continent exactly who the next heir is?”

She shrugged. “To answer your question, I don’t give a damn about titles. I’d much rather watch the journalists tear each other apart for it.”

She faux sighed. “And… oh dear. He must have written something dangerously close to treason to end up there. That’s the lowest level for a Valscribe journalist.”

A pang of guilt struck deep. My brother had been swallowed by the system—just like me. Caught in the same current of politics, betrayal, and blood. We were both pawns. Just on different boards.

I missed him. He was all I had left besides Knox. And I still hadn’t forgiven him for going to the king about my forbidden power.

Sabitha gestured widely with her hands. “Welcome to your new home for the week,” she said as we entered a landed shaded with ash and overcast.

“A week?”

She shrugged. “I’m only guessing you’ll die.”

I scoffed. “Thanks for the encouragement.”

The sun dipped low, shadows stretching long across the brittle earth as we neared the gates of the Malvoria Institute.

The warded shield scraped against my skin like it knew I didn’t belong. The black gates creaked open with a slow, groaning moan. Malvoria loomed ahead, almost a castle—crowned with the sharp, geometric M of its flag, flapping stiffly in the wind. I slid from Nevia’s back, boots crunching on frozen gravel.

Sabitha chuckled from her saddle. “Good luck, Severyn. You were… not the worst criminal I’ve escorted.” She hesitated for a moment. “Word of advice? Don’t reveal too much. And stop being so damn depressing. I see worth in you, and not just because your brother paid me.”

“So you do think I’ll last longer than a week?”

“Oh, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

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