Page 151 of Severed Heir

I didn’t have a choice. I had to win. He saw it the moment the port opened. I was a stain on their golden legacy. Hadrian might not be my father in name, but the blood was there, undeniable. And odds were, he was.

“Ladies first,” Caius said, raising a hand in mock courtesy.

Flame surged through my chest, rising to my throat like a scream waiting to be released. Veravine’s final words echoed through my blood like a battle cry.

I would rise.

Dark flame snapped to life across my knuckles, curling with a heat laced in shadow. I hurled it straight at his shoulder. The impact landed, but Caius didn’t flinch. Not even a blink. His grin only sharpened as flame coiled in his palm, forming a whip. It cracked through the air like lightning made flesh.

I felt the heat a second before it struck.

“Ohshit—” The words barely left me before pain tore across my ribs. The lash sliced through my gown like parchment, searing flesh beneath.

Air fled my lungs.

His hands burned brighter now, flame dancing along his fingers with lethal precision. The second strike came quicker. It caught me full-force, hurling me backward.

My spine met stone with a brutal slam. My vision splintered. But I was still breathing. Still burning.

Gritting my teeth, I forced my hands into position, refusing to let them shake. The crowd watched in silence, their staressharp and hollow, as if I were a failed performance, a tired act that had already lost its thrill.

I pushed to my feet, breath ragged. Blood soaked the side of my gown, warm and seeping from beneath my ribs. I barely felt it. But holy realms, his flame was strong.

“Caius!” Hadrian’s voice rang out. “That’s enough.”

But the command only fed his fury. The third hit stole everything. My breath. My voice. My will to stand. I screamed—but no sound came.

On the sidelines, Lasar held Archer back, fingers clenched tight around his arms as he thrashed to break free.

“Let me the fuck go,” Archer growled, his voice raw with fury. “He’s taken it too far.”

From the crowd, a sneering voice cut through the smoke. “She’s a bastard child. Doesn’t even have a father.”

Another voice followed, colder. “Her mother killed my cousin… She deserves this. Well, her whole bloodline should burn for it.”

Archer lunged again, muscles straining. “Say that again,” he spat. “I dare you.”

But Lasar shoved him back with a curse. “You’ll only make it worse. You can’t help her if you’re dead, too.”

Pain throbbed through me, but I clung to the fire. I flung flame toward Caius’s throat, staggering to my feet. “I am the heir of Night.”

Caius choked, swiping at the scorch mark seared into his neck, his teeth bared in a snarl. “A pity heir. No wonder the man ended up in prison. You don’t even carry flame in both palms. Pathetic.”

He raised his ash whip.

The next strikes came hard and fast—across my neck, my back, my arms. Each one carved a line of fire through skin and fabric. I screamed, tasting blood in the back of my throat.

“My other gift is shadows,” I gasped, breath ragged. “But I’d rather beat you with flame.”

I hurled a chain of ash from my palm. It struck him clean, dragging him to his knees. My skin peeled in raw streaks. My ribs ached with every inhale. I lost count of the blows, but I didn’t fall.

With a grunt, he snapped my bindings and lunged. I hit the stone hard, pain blooming down my spine, but before he could climb over me, I grabbed his ankle.

Shadows erupted from my hand, twisting and writhing as smoke and vengeance met flesh. They coiled around his leg like a living tether of rage, choking the flame from him inch by inch.

“What are you doing?” he spat, trying to shake free.

I met his eyes, blood on my teeth and defiance in every broken breath. “Proving a point. You feel that? That’s our power. Our blood.”

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