Page 161 of Severed Heir

But the sun above us flickered in an unnatural way. Its glow was too golden, its warmth too thick, like honey left too long in the heat. Like the fever that comes just before an illness. This didn’t feel like a memory anymore. Or maybe it never was. I couldn’t tell if I still belonged here.

“Do you enjoy the cold?” I asked, trying to ground myself in something real.

Klaus paused, his quill hovering over the open journal in his hand. “I don’t know anything else,” he said. “Father never let us leave the country.”

“I miss you,” I whispered.

He looked up at me, curious. “I wasn’t gone long. A thorn got me. Didn’t even hurt.”

My throat tightened. “There was no poison in the thorns?”

He gave a faint smile. “No poison, just sharp barbs.”

Everything about this moment felt too delicate, like a dream made of glass. One wrong word and it might shatter.

“Can we go into the woods tomorrow?” I asked, my voice barely more than breath. But I could already feel the moment slipping away.

“No,” he said. “The beasts are weak, but they can still kill you. And you can still freeze to death.”

I gripped his arm tighter, as if holding him could anchor us both. “I don’t want you to go.”

Klaus laughed softly, but it rang hollow. “You don’t have a choice. I need to bring back fresh meat. I sure as hell am not eating fried squirrels.”

“I’ll come with you,” I said, though the words felt empty.

He frowned. “You can’t. You can’t stay here forever. There are too many thorns.”

The world tilted. My breath hitched. I didn’t think we were talking about real thorns.

“Tell me everything,” I whispered, needing truth, needing him to break the illusion.

Klaus gave a shallow laugh, his golden eye flickering with distant sadness. “Knowing is the true poison. Enjoy the breeze while it lasts.”

“I don’t feel any breeze,” I whispered.

He studied me, his face unreadable. “Strange.”

My hand trembled. “Can I ask one question?”

“One. But I’ll decide if I’ll answer.”

The question had burned in me for too long. “Can I trust Damien Lynch?”

Klaus paused. Then his lips curled into a knowing smile. “Find her name, and you’ll have your answer.”

“Whose name?”

“The blood of a Herring didn’t spill when I died.”

My heart stopped. This couldn’t be real. It had to be some illusionist, twisting my memories into lies.

“Klaus, what are you saying?”

“You already know. You just don’t want to believe it. My lungs filled with water, but her blood stained the dirt.”

His words cut deep. Then his hand slipped from mine, and the next touch I felt was ice.

Before I could speak, something yanked me backward. A cloth slammed over my mouth, muffling the sound. Bootsteps echoed on stone as I was dragged through an alley, vision spinning, heart pounding.

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