Page 119 of Severed Heir

Chapter Twenty-Two

I had lived through more than a few horrid dinners, and two of those men sat across from me now. Charles, with his familiar golden eyes, and Victor, whose presence filled the space like a suffocating rain cloud. There wasn’t enough wine to drown the stare the king gave me.

Charles twirled his fork, slicing through the silence. “How many guards would you like at the wedding?” he asked the king. “We can’t risk an attack from the Forgotten during such a high-profile event.”

“Three at every entrance,” the king replied, his voice firm.

The humming in my ears rose to a roar. What even was my life now? A girl with fire in her blood, shadows at her call, and life in her touch, now trapped in a gilded cage, promised off in a political bargain.

“Severyn.” Charles’s voice cut through the fog. “What color flowers would you like? We’ve asked you three times.”

“Flowers?” I blinked, dazed. “I don’t… I don’t care. Pick whatever.”

“Hellebores?” Damien offered, all silk and charm. “Isn’t that your favorite? Fortunately, they’re in bloom in Night.”

“No.” The word snapped sharper than I meant. “No flowers.”

Charles slammed his goblet against the table. “It’s tradition.”

“Then pick something else. Just not hellebores.”

“Roses, then,” Victor said smoothly, lifting his glass with a smile. “They grow well in our orchard. Roses are timeless.”

We ate in silence after that. Damien kept nudging me beneath the table, probably hoping I’d smile at him. Maybe he thought I still meant to keep that promise.

But I didn’t.

The king excused himself after dinner, and Charles stepped out to take a message from Lorna, leaving just Victor, Damien, and me alone.

“How can you want this?” I asked Victor, “You saw me with Archer not even two seasons ago. How can you sit here and discuss flowers?”

Victor lifted his chin. “My son made his bed. He chose to force an heirship on you, and if love was the reason, then my love for my son will save him from his foolish mistake.”

“I don’t believe this,” I hissed. “You don’t love your son. If you did—” My voice cracked. “You’d let him love who he wants.”

Victor’s face hardened. “Your mother and I had a complicated relationship. We were rivals, but she knew that title would never go to her because of her power. She bartered her way through school, and perhaps I learned something from her.”

I scoffed. “My mother did this? This… arrangement was her idea?”

“Yes,” Victor said. “She wanted you to live in Ravensla, and I agreed to that barter. Reina was her friend. Perhaps her death wounded us both.” He rose from his chair, the wood creaking beneath him. “Love breaks walls, but it builds them, too. A forced hand doesn’t have to be barren of hope.”

I glanced at Damien. His expression wasn’t one of devastation or even betrayal. Just quiet sadness. The kind that came from knowing that I would never love him.

Victor straightened his coat. “I expect you both to cooperate. In time, you’ll learn to accept the marriage. Reina and I did. And look at us, two powerful sons and a guard.”

The silence that followed his departure was heavy, the air between us strained and still.

Damien pushed back from the table, his hands braced against its edge. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Damien,” I said, my voice low and sharp. “What did you expect to happen tonight?”

He turned just slightly. “You didn’t smile. You embarrassed me in front of my father. But I thought you might at least pretend we were once friends.”

Tears stung my eyes. “To me, you died, Damien. And now you’re just a bastard forcing me to marry you.”

His fist slammed down on the table, rattling the plates. “Do you think I want this? To stand there knowing the girl I’m meant to marry will always love my brother?”

He inhaled sharply, struggling to contain it. “But you didn’t think of me. Not once. I’m the man, Sev. I’m expected to be strong. Always. But you can’t read my mind. How do you know I’m not breaking at the seams?”

---