Page 125 of Severed Heir

I scoured the crowd, silently begging him to fight. To see me. To choose me. But Archer Lynch refused to look at me. His gaze stayed fixed on the sun, his expression unreadable.

The king stood at the end of the aisle, cloaked in off-white robes stitched with shells and starlight thread. He raised a weathered hand and silence struck. “We are joined here today to witness the union of two realms,” he said. “Do you, Damien Lynch, take Severyn Blanche to be your wife?”

Damien didn’t hesitate. “I do.”

I screamed into the bond, “Save me. Please. Do something.”But there was nothing left to reach for. No thread to grasp. Not after he gave up Ciaran. Not after he severed us.

Sprouts had begun to grow in Colindale. This was for them. For the sun. For the land that still wore my fading name like a crown.

“And do you, Severyn Blanche, take Damien Lynch?” The question rang like a bell marking my undoing.

“Yes,” I said. My voice was flat, but the silence that followed was louder than any scream.

Everything about this was wrong.

The king nodded and turned toward Victor and my father. “State the terms of your bargain.”

Victor’s voice carried across the courtyard. “Years ago, I gifted eternal sunlight to Andri as a symbol of peace and sealed it with a promise that my heir would one day marry his daughter. This union fulfills that vow.”

The king asked, “And if the marriage is illegitimate?”

Victor scoffed. “He is my heir.”

The king turned to my father. “Andri, is she your daughter?”

Andri gave a single nod. “Severyn is my daughter. I raised her.”

In silence, he drew a narrow silver blade from a holder. “Then we proceed with the marriage bind,” he said. “By tradition, the realms are joined through blood. Ice and warmth, will now be united as one. Damien and Severyn will forever be bonded through an unbreakable marriage bind.”

Unbreakable.

My thoughts snapped silent as the blade kissed my palm—first mine, then Damien’s. The sting was swift, a flash of fire that stole my breath. A gasp caught in my throat as warmth surged beneath my skin. Blood welled fast, spilling down my wrist and soaking into the silver gown Gailyn had sewn with such careful hands.

Damien stepped forward, his eyes locked on mine, and pressed his bleeding hand to my own. Palm to palm. Skin to skin. Blood to blood. A bond meant to last forever, forged with a cut I never chose.

We stood there, breath held, as if the world itself was waiting. But nothing happened. No shimmer of magic, no spark of binding light. Just the steady drip of blood and the silence of something gone wrong.

I swallowed hard. “Is it done?”

The king stepped closer, the weight of his gaze like stone. “She carries no trace of Winter,” he said, voice cold and clear. “She is not Andri’s daughter by blood.”

The words didn’t make sense. Couldn’t. I blinked. “What did you say?”

A stunned silence swept over the court. Then the king turned toward us, his face inscrutable. “You may kiss your bride, Damien.”

Damien didn’t truly meet my eyes. His gaze flicked to the king, then to Victor, as if waiting for permission. For a moment, I thought he might step back. Instead, he reached for my jaw, trying to pull me in.

“One kiss,” he said. “Then you can hate me forever.”

“The bargain is void!” Victor’s voice suddenly tore through the stillness. “The marriage is off.”

He lunged forward and grabbed Damien’s arm, pulling him away from me like I was a beast in a white dress. “I will not have my son bound to a nameless girl. Who knows what filth runs through her veins, who her real father is?”

I stumbled back, clutching my bleeding hand to my chest as if that alone could keep me from falling apart.

Across the courtyard, I met Archer’s gaze. He didn’t move, but he looked like he was forcing himself to stay rooted, like it took everything in him not to run to me.

Then the king’s voice cut through the muffled gasps. “No, Victor. Your vow was to Andri. You offered sunlight in exchange for marriage to his daughter, not to a bloodline. The gift stands.”

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