Page 14 of Severed Heir

We moved fast, the dim lantern light stretching our shadows across the narrow stone walls as we headed toward the same open space where I’d met Sorpine the night before. The grand doors groaned open, and several vaguely familiar faces were already inside. But I couldn’t place where I had seen them before.

“What’s happening?” I whispered.

“Fifteen new recruits are arriving today,” Myla murmured, nudging me with her elbow. “Most are from Demetria. Word is the Serpent of Shadows is escorting them himself.” She raised a brow. “Wasn’t he your mentor at the Academy?”

Archer.

My chest tightened. “Yes.”

Myla smirked. “Is he really as ruthless as they say? I heard he dismissed half his realm as unfit for heirship. Total tyrant move. Honestly? I’m impressed. The king must be losing sleep letting that slide.”

My cheeks burned. “Unfit? No. Archer isn’t like that.”

She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. “Does Severyn have a little crush?”

Before I could answer, Antonia jabbed me in the ribs. “Don’t take it personally, Sev. We were all under Archer’s spell. He flirted with anything that had a pulse.”

Bile crept up my throat. “Everyone?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, grinning. “He spent the first month tangled up with Lydia. You know, the blonde from Spring? Legs for days, tragic backstory. Her realm went barren, and Archer’s family took them in.”

The memory hit like a slap. I remembered the girl I’d seen him with the night I met Damien. I hadn’t even known her name. Or her story.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said too fast. But it did. It twisted like a dagger in my gut. We’d never said we were exclusive. We hadn’t labeled anything. I didn’t even know whatthiswas.

“The Serpent and I are... close,” I said, voice tight. “We’re friends.”

It wasn’t a lie. We’d shared moments. We were bonded. We’d slept together—shadow-wrapped and half-broken. But beyond that? Whatwerewe? It’s not like he was my boyfriend. And he definitely didn’t seem like the type who courted.

Oh Gods.

Before I could spiral deeper, a tall guard gripped my arm and shoved me toward the other recruits. Two more students were herded beside me, forming a single-file line.

I glanced sideways at six of them. They had dark-hair and eyes bright as starlight. I knew who they were. Or at least, who they were meant to be. First-year Serpent students. The ones who might’ve worn the mark if I hadn’t claimed it first.

It made sense now. Painfully so. All of Demetria’s potential heirs had been sent here because Archer already had one.

The doors groaned open again, and I froze. Archer stepped into the room, but beside him was someone I never expected to see so soon. Kian. The third Lynch brother. Archer’s hand rested on his shoulder, guiding him forward like he was afraid Kian might bolt. It felt like a lifetime since Ravensla—since that awful dinner with Victor.

A sharp whistle cracked through the air, and an auburn-haired guard stepped forward. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with one eye cerulean, the other umber. Something wicked gleamed behind his smirk.

“Welcome to Malvoria,” he said, voice clipped and cold. “Here, you’ll become leaders. Guards. Protectors. But first, you’ll face three tests.” He began pacing the line, boots echoing off the stone. “Is your quell useful? Can you defend? And most important—can we trust you?” He stopped, smile sharpening. “Most fail number two.”

Tension rippled in the air. “My name is Rok. Captain of the new recruits. I’ll be watching to see who is worthy of becoming a royal guard.” His sneer twisted as he scanned the line of us. “It’s not uncommon to uncover a forbidden quell during testing. Let’s see what you’re hiding.”

I glanced away, because holy Gods, this man was terrifying. That’s when I saw them. Journalists lined the far wall, their pensscratching across parchments like claws, desperate not to miss a single flinch. Valscribe reporters. But why were they here?

Then, through the sea of unfamiliar faces, a flash of gold stopped my breath cold. Cully.

He looked up from his notebook like he sensed my stare, the pen slipping from his fingers as he saw me. And suddenly, I was twelve again, curled up in our icebound home, listening to him read me fables.

Rok’s voice continued down the line, murmuring low over each outstretched palm. But I couldn’t force myself to be still when my brother stood across the room.

“—Shadows… light… shadows… rain… storms…” Rok’s voice drifted toward me. Then he stopped. Without even glancing at my relic, he muttered, “Flame and shadows,” and moved on.

Then he stopped before three recruits.

“Quelless… quelless… quelless,” he hissed. Then, sharper, “Quelless?” His sneer deepened as he stared down one trembling recruit. “How weak must one be to have no power?”

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