Page 202 of Severed Heir

He looked down at me. “Yes.”

I laughed softly, blinking against the sting in my eyes. “I was probably insufferable.”

“Actually,” he said, “quite the opposite. The only way you would’ve heard me was through a rider bond. I hated knowing your thoughts without your permission. So… I bonded with you.”

I groaned. “Gods. So you’ve known everything I’ve ever thought since you were heired?”

Archer gave me a crooked grin. “Well… you did have a bit of a crush on me, Severyn.”

I jabbed his arm. “I did not.”

“Should I be offended?”

“Maybe I just liked the attention of a Serpent,” I teased, grinning. “Shadows are kind of hot.”

But my smile faded as I glanced down at the place where my relic used to rest. The space felt oddly hollow.

“It feels strange not having them anymore.”

He reached for my hand, his voice gentler now. “Thank you for keeping them safe, my love.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Through the cobblestone courtyard, Archer led us past townhouses, cabins, and the silver canal. More than a thousand civilians stood waiting.

“I’m nervous,” I whispered, my hand trembling slightly in his.

“Don’t be,” Archer murmured. “You protected my country, Severyn. Without training. Without guidance. You did that.”

Ash still scarred the perimeter. The air hung thick with the scent of smoke and iron. I stood in a gown the color of fading fire. It was pale pink threaded with gold and soot. Amria had woven air into the fabric, siphoning inspiration from the breath of the city itself.

Civilians turned as we approached, silver-flecked eyes full of reverence. Archer moved with quiet command. He stepped forward and raised his voice. “For over a hundred years, my family has ruled the shadows of Demetria. We are the last standing Night realm in Verdonia. I’ve been away too long, and for that, I am sorry.”

He bowed his head.

“I was granted an heir,” he said, “and she was called to shine her light elsewhere. I now introduce you properly to Severyn.”

Their gazes shifted.

I opened my mouth—then faltered. “I—I…”

I wasn’t their heir. I was born of frost and fire, not shadow. My blood was rebellion to them. But then, one by one, they knelt.

A woman whispered through tears, “Her flame kept my child warm when the starlight shields vanished.”

“Her fire let us cook fish from the canal,” another added. “We survived because of her.”

“I didn’t know,” I breathed. “I only wanted to protect you.”

Archer lifted my hand. “Severyn was born of ice, but she carries flame in her blood. She is my keeper of shadows. Let us show her our thanks.”

And they did. Power rippled around us—shadows, mist, and starlight erupting in celebration. Gratitude thickened the air like incense. My chest ached with it.

A small girl stepped forward, no older than five. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and bright.

“Name a star after her,” she whispered to Archer. “That one shines the brightest.”

I knelt, letting my gown spill around me like ashen moonlight. “Which one?” I asked.

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