Page 49 of Severed Heir

I nodded as she turned for bed, knowing I’d get nothing more from her. Myla stayed behind, her eyes trained on the dark swirl in her mug.

“Fraser’s the only one who gets my tea right,” she murmured. “Cully never steeps it long enough.”

The warmth rising in my chest had nothing to do with the tea. I waited until I heard the door click shut upstairs, then took off Kian’s jacket and draped it over the banister.

“Cully can list every book ever printed and recite the glue formula that binds them,” I said. “But he struggles with the little things. The things that make him feel human instead of just... pages and ink.”

My gaze drifted toward the stairs. “He loves poetry. Always wants a happy ending—even when the story doesn’t deserve one.”

Myla smiled faintly. “And what are you in a story? The flame born within ice. And me?”

“I think we’re both just as lost,” I said quietly.

Silence settled between us. Then, slowly, I let her see me—not the heir, not the outcast. Just the girl buried beneath it all.

She finished her tea with a quiet shake of her head. “I’m sorry I chose Bridger over you. If I could go back..."

I reached out, stopping her gently. “Myla, I have to tell you something.”

Soon, everyone would know. I’d let Cully write it. Tomorrow we’d search the land. And after that... I’d leave for Night.

But I wanted her to hear it first.

Her fingers curled around the mug, her expression wary as firelight painted flickers across her cheeks. “You can tell me anything,” she said softly.

“When Damien died… we were in the Night realm. Near Demetria. The Malvoria guards were there. Do you remember any of that?”

She tucked a braid behind her ear, brows furrowed. “Sort of. Charles said something happened to me. That I... lost it after arriving in Malvoria. I’m sorry, Sev. I just... I can’t remember.”

“I was there. I saw you... you were under some kind of trance.” I paused, my breath catching. “But the Malvoria army— they were after the lindworm Archer hid on his land. I kept one of the eggs we found in the caves,”

“I don’t understand.”

Slowly, I turned my shoulder, letting the charred scraps of my leather suit fall enough to reveal the fine lines of the serpent that coiled from my spine to my ribs.

The cup slipped from Myla’s grasp, shattering against the floor. She stumbled back a step, wide-eyed. “Severyn…” she gasped. “Are you—are you an heir?”

“The heir of Night,” I whispered, the words burning against my tongue. “But it must stay a secret. I’m not returning to Malvoria. Once we’re done here, I’ll head to Demetria. My new home.”

Myla reached out to touch my mark. “May I?” she asked, her voice soft. I nodded, wincing as she brushed her fingers over the raised mark. “It looks infected,” she said.

I sucked in a breath. “I think it’s rejecting me. I have no true shadow blood.” My voice cracked. “It hurts. Most days.”

She pulled her hand back like she’d been burned. “This is… crazy. You’re Archer’s heir. That’s why all the Night students, and Antonia were sentenced to Malvoria.”

Before I could answer, the front doors slammed open. Two figures staggered through the gust. One was Father, slumped heavily against the second, Charles.

Panic cut through me the moment I saw my father. His skin was ash-pale, his body trembling violently as Charles kicked the door shut behind them.

“Severyn, blankets. Now,” he barked. “Myla—your quell will only worsen his condition. Upstairs.”

Myla flinched but obeyed without a word, darting up the steps. I raced to the closet, grabbing every blanket I could carry, then rushed back.

Father looked... broken. His beard tangled with twigs and frost, his boots half-frozen. His eyes flicked between Charles and me, hollow and barely lucid.

I knelt beside him, wrapping a blanket around his shaking frame. Carefully, I hovered my hand against his cheek, coaxing the faintest bit of warmth from my flame without searing him.

He caught my wrist, squeezing it weakly. “I’m alright, Severyn.”

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