Page 181 of Severed Heir

Kian’s shoulders tensed. “I was barely a teenager. I’d just lost her. Then I lost you.” His fist hovered, then dropped. “No one gave a damn about me except for Archer.”

I nudged Kian gently. “Come on. Let’s go before we get paired with the worst fighters.”

Behind us, Damien’s expression twisted into something I recognized. It was that look he made when he couldn’t read me. The one that reminded me he’d never fully understand me.

Once we were out of earshot, Kian exhaled sharply. “He’s alive... and he doesn’t care that I mourned him.”

“Don’t let him get to you,” I said gently. “He was never dead. Not really. I mourned every version of him I thought I knew.”

Kian kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering across the path. “Yeah, well, I nearly lost my mind for weeks. Even my father never said a word about it. Just let me believe he was gone.” He let out a tired breath. “Both my brothers are powerful elites. And me? I’m just... here.”

It should’ve been him. Not me.

“I need you to rise in the ranks,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Focus on that. If you don’t, they’ll shove you aside and leave you mopping up blood for the rest of your life here.”

Kian’s mouth twisted. “When Damien accused our father of killing our mother, it was like everything went gray for him. He woke up screaming, convinced Victor had done it. My father couldn’t reason with him.”

“Archer never really spoke about that day.”

“Yeah. Guards had to drag Damien out. It was… horrible.”

“I’m sorry no one was there for you.”

“Archer tried to shield me, but I think he was just delaying the inevitable.”

We stepped into a rowdy circle of lost heirs. Most looked like they hadn’t fought since their Serpent days. The guards stretched nearby, flaring quells and flashing scars like trophies.

“I get it,” I said quietly. “I’m the youngest in my family, too. They all tried to protect me, but now I’m crashing headfirst into everything they kept from me.”

Kian placed a hand on my shoulder. “Cheers to being underestimated since birth.” He took a breath. “And I’ll try to rise the ranks. Unfortunately, I got the charm, not the strength in my gene pool.”

Rok raised his arms and yelled. “We’ve got one week until war. Sorting begins now. Flame with flame, wind with wind. Your powers work best when quell-shared. Remember that.”

“Flame with flame?” Caius sneered, his gaze locking on me from the side. “No. I’m not quell-sharing with that mud-wielder.”

Rok rolled his eyes. “Is that any way to treat your little sister?” He grinned, completely unbothered. “The scripts don’t lie.”

Caius’s nostrils flared. “She’s not my blood.”

Rok’s voice cut clean through the space. “I don’t care if she is or isn’t. You’ll fight beside her.”

Then he turned, pointing toward the cluster of shadow-wielders, his chin flicking toward Damien. “You’re with them. First round.”

Damien’s smirk was pure venom. I remembered sparring with him at the academy. He never lost once. And from the way he twirled his dagger now told me this wasn’t about victory, it was about dominance.

I summoned the flame to my palm, steadied my breath, and forced the tremor from my limbs. “Let’s get this over with,” I said.

Across the mat, Damien tilted his head, assessing me with all the arrogance of a predator. “I never noticed that you only have flame in one hand,” he said.

“You’re trying to distract me,” I said, jaw tightening. “And that’s because I have shadows in the other.”

But I was already too late.

A blast of shade slammed into my chest. I hit the ground hard, fingers clawing through dirt as the breath punched from my lungs.

“No,” Damien said, circling slowly. “Just stating facts. That flame could be stronger.”

“It’s not mine,” I whispered. “It never was. I inherited it.”

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