Page 114 of Severed Heir

He dropped to his knees beside me. “There’s nothing you could do that would ever let me down. Nothing.”

I couldn’t look at him. “Cully’s still trapped. Estella’s petrified. Bridger is my father’s heir. I feel like I’ve failed everyone.”

I pressed a trembling hand to his chest, my voice heavy. “And Malachi—”

Archer stilled. “What about Malachi?”

“I can’t… I can’t say it.” My voice cracked as the tears finally came. “Because if I do, it becomes real.”

His voice lowered. “She didn’t make it.”

“No. Don’t say it.” I shook my head, swallowing the grief like it might suffocate me. “I can’t, Archer. I’m not strong enough to mourn her right now.”

“Look at me,” Archer whispered. “I gave everything to keep those guards from knowing I loved you. I kept them from seeing your true power. I failed because I let you in.” His hand found mine, steady and firm. “And I’d do it again.”

“I’m not worth severing your bond.”

“Yes, you were.” His voice cracked. He touched my jaw, lifting my chin. “You are.”

He helped me up, his eyes tracing over the raw blisters on my hands. “Come on. We need to run those burns under cool water.”

Inside the estate, the scent of ash and scorched paper still hung in the air. Amria met us at the entrance with a worried glance, stepping aside as Archer guided me toward the washroom.

He turned on the tap and held my hands beneath the stream. The cool water stung across my palms, but I didn’t pull away.

“The scarring should fade in a few days,” he said quietly. “You held that shield longer than I ever could’ve asked.”

“I didn’t feel it,” I admitted. “It felt… natural.”

He didn’t respond right away. His eyes drifted down the hall toward his study, where the remains of Klaus’s Seeker journals lay in blackened ruin.

“I should’ve burned them a long time ago,” he muttered. “The king will want answers. And those guards never should’ve let me go.”

“That Seeker… why was she still alive?”

Archer exhaled. “She’s not like the others. She paints her visions. It’s harder to trace that kind of magic. Harder to prove she is a Seeker. When she gave Cully a glimpse of her Sight… that was the first time the guards had been able to catch her.”

“She said she painted me. A long time ago.”

His jaw tightened. “Her name’s Maeve. She was from Ravensla. My father had her paint outcomes he could twist to his advantage… I believe that is why she let me go.”

“You knew her?”

“No. I only knew of her. She was already in prison before I was born.”

I reached for his cheek, grounding myself in something real. His skin was warm, familiar, but still distant in a way that made my chest ache. He had no shadow powers.

“We need to talk,” I said, quieter this time. “About Damien. About your bond. And Ciaran.”

Archer stilled. “Damien? What do you mean?”

“He’s alive.” I nodded once. “Your father sent a letter. You didn’t open it?”

“I figured it was some more bullshit about our bargain.”

“It said he was alive. But, Archer, Damien… he won. He claimed the title. Your brother is an heir.”

Archer’s jaw clenched, his expression turning grim. “He’s my father’s heir,” he said, eyes shuttering like the truth physically hurt. “Our father’s bargain... that marriage—”

---