Page 23 of Severed Heir

Gasping, I shoved her off. “Where’s your flame?” she sneered. “Did you finally burn out?”

I didn’t answer.

“Two more for the dungeons!” Rok barked from the sideline. “Who’s next?”

“Dungeons?” I rasped, blinking through the haze clouding my vision.

Rok crossed the circle and crouched beside me, his mismatched eyes drilling into mine. “This isn’t the Serpent Academy, princess,” he said, voice sharp enough to cut bone. “You don’t just lose and get handed your dagger back the next day.”

“Let me fight again,” I said.

He leaned in, so close I could smell the mint leaf he was chewing on his breath. “How are you supposed to guard a realm if you can’t even summon your power?”

Then a gust of wind whipped across the mat.

I looked up just in time to see the male flame initiate dive, barely dodging the blast. He hit the ground hard, shoulder skidding, blood streaking down his vest, but still, he grinned.

“One more!” Rok barked. “Who else wants to join dungeon duty?”

The flame male smirked, curling his bloodied fingers in a come-hither motion. “Guess we’ll have plenty of time in the dungeons to see if you’re worth flirting with after all.”

“How about you leave me alone,” I hissed—half from the pain, half from the raw humiliation clawing at my skin from loosing my first battle.

Myla appeared beside me, gripping my elbow and hauling me upright. “I’ve seen you fight, Sev,” she whispered. “You burned half a field once. What’s wrong?”

I jerked away from her touch, hiding the scar on my palm with a shaky fist.

“I—I don’t know,” I lied, the words catching like ash in my throat. “I’ve been off since Damien died.”

Her expression softened. “Initiation is hard, Sev. You have to get over it and fast. Most people don’t survive a week here. And once you’re on dungeon duty...” She trailed off, the warning heavy in her eyes. “Most don’t come back.”

I wiped another streak of blood from my nose and forced myself to stand straighter as I shouted after Rok. “Let me fight again,” I said. “I’ll prove I can win.”

Rok crossed his arms. “That’s not fair to the other guards, Severyn,” he said. “One quell match a day. You’ve already lost.”

I curled my palm into a fist, ignoring the stinging scars. “I have two quells,” I said. “Let me use my shadows.”

“I thought I smelled shadows on you earlier,” Rok said, brow arched. “Though I assumed they belonged to someone else.”

“Let me fight again,” I demanded. “You can pick the opponent.”

His grin stretched wide, a jagged scar cutting across his cheek like a second, cruel mouth. “Fine. Bow, Blanche,” he said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I hadn’t thought this through. Shit. But I raised my hand anyway. I was the heir of Night. And I would prove it.

Rok turned to Myla and lifted his palm. A spiraling gust of snow peeled from her lips, drawn into his hand like he was siphoning the power straight from her lungs.

She gasped, collapsing to her knees. “Fuck’s sake, Rok,” she panted. “I told you to stop that.”

The words tore out of me before I could stop them. “What are you—some kind of siphon?”

“I prefer mirror,” he said, his voice smooth and sharp as cut glass. Frost laced his fingers as he turned back to me. “I mimic power, bend it to my will, and return it when I choose.”

He flexed his hand, and snow fell softly from the clouds.

“You grew up in ice, Severyn. This should be an easy defeat.”

I raised my palm, trying to call the shadows, but Rok didn’t flinch. His chin tipped up, and frost-bound ropes erupted from the earth, snapping around my limbs like the jaws of a trap.

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