Page 3 of Severed Heir

“She failed. Unless she claims her Autumn title within the year, it falls to you. Evil has already breached our walls. They’ll come for everything. Trust no one, Severyn.”

I swallowed hard. “I want to go home.”

The king tilted his head, and the seaglass beads woven into his beard caught the falling snow. “Where is home, Severyn Blanche?” he asked.

I didn’t answer right away. It felt like a trap. “Demetria,” I said at last. “The Night land.” It was the politically correct answer to say since I had become Archer’s heir.

“You and Archer Lynch cannot exist,” the king said. “That ruler made a mistake when he kept that snake for you. I can’t protect him if the Continent learns the truth of his heart.”

“I earned the title.”

The king’s gaze hardened. “That mark on your spine disagrees. That heirship wasn’t earned. It was forced. You have no shadow blood in you.”

“I have a shadow power,” I said, curling the shade between my fingers.

“Love can kill, my darling granddaughter. You, of all people, should understand that. Veravine loved your mother. If anyone had discovered who Fallon truly was, she wouldn’t have survived. And neither would you.”

Love could kill.

It could unravel bonds, break empires, and leave realms barren.

“When did you find out I was your granddaughter?” I asked. “Was it after Skyfall?”

“I always wondered. There were rumors of Veravine with a guard. I knew she would never give herself away like that. I became certain when Knox gained a light quell.”

My fists clenched. “You were married. You let your wife take the blame for killing your mistress. Why?”

“There are some things you won’t understand until it happens to you,” he said quietly. “You may question my title, Severyn. But don’t question my heart.”

It was cold-hearted adultery. No matter how he tried to dress it.

“Fallon was raised on the streets,” I snapped. “Veravine left her behind.”

His lips curled into something like a smile. “It’s always more complicated.” He turned, cane tapping lightly against the frost-slick stone. “Come. Dinner should be ready.”

I wanted to say more, but I didn’t. And dinner with the king? What could possibly go wrong?

Dinner was sweetened roast chicken and beets imported from some western realm. The table was dressed in dull pink and gray petals. They were gloomy things that wilted like they didn’t want to be here either. Hellebores, of course.

The king sat at the head. Across from him was his wife, Evangeline, she was a silvery blonde woman with citrine eyes sharp enough to cut glass.

If this wasn’t the strangest family dinner I’d ever been dragged into, then I honestly didn’t know what was.

Charles stabbed his rose-gold fork into the meat, juices spraying across his plate as he chewed like he hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks. Then he nodded toward Evangeline. “I heard your brother signed an oil trade with Wrathi. Congratulations.”

She took a slow sip of red wine and set the glass down with care. “Yes,” she said, her voice smooth. “The deal has been longoverdue. With the latest industrial advances, reliance on dragon travel may soon be behind us.”

Charles nodded again, and the swirl of polite smiles and political bullshit made my head spin.

Evangeline turned back to him, lips curling at the edges. “Although,” she added lightly, “since we’re family now, I’d hoped we might strike a deal with your father. I’ve always wanted to open a jewelry shop of my own, and with all those diamonds he’s sitting on…”

I nearly choked on my next sip. Even the guards in the corner dared to shift at that uncomfortable comment about us being a family.

Charles said to Evangeline, “My father does not bargain anymore, even if it would save his kingdom.”

“Pity,” said Evangeline.

Then Charles nudged his wine glass in my direction. “You’ll enjoy Malvoria this time of year, Severyn. It’s cold, but not too cold.”

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