Page 189 of Severed Heir

“What do you want, Damien?”I asked quietly.

“I killed Malachi to save you. Is that what you want to hear?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want me to say? I don’t want to go into this war knowing you hate me.”

“Did you die?”I asked through the bond.“Or did you manipulate me into thinking you did?”

“You already know.”

“Then show me,”I whispered.“Show me what happened after we portaled.”

There was a pause, a flicker of resistance across the bond.

“It won’t change anything.”

“It changes everything,”I said, cold as steel. “At the trial, Archer had seven keys. Seven lives. The only explanation… is that you lied to me.”

Suddenly, the world around me dimmed. My breath caught as the edges of my vision went dark. And then, I wasn’t in the Iron Wastes anymore.

I was inside his memory.

I saw myself in the woods, broken and trembling. And he was there. Not dying. Not bleeding. Just watching in silence. There wasn’t even a drop of blood on his face.

“I loved you from the moment I saw you,”his voice whispered inside the memory.

Then I saw it—the moment I hesitated. When I thought one less contender for the throne might be a blessing.

The memory fractured like glass.

I reeled back into the present, breath ragged.“Why?”I hissed.“Why let me believe you were dead?”

“I didn’t have a good reason.”

I struck his mental shield, hard enough to make it echo.“Tell me the truth.”

His voice cracked through our bond.“I wanted to see how you’d feel. When you hesitated—I wanted it to hurt. Maybe I was afraid you’d take my title. Maybe… maybe I thought marrying me would protect you from him.”

I stepped back like he’d slapped me.“You’re the villain, Damien. Not him.”

He didn’t respond.

And somehow, that silence was the only honest thing he’d ever given me.

We reached a rusted bunker near midnight. Rok divided us into groups of six and shoved us inside without a word. Torn tarps hung from the ceiling, sagging with pooled rainwater from the broken planks above.

Antonia took the bunk above mine. It wasn’t the worst bed I’d ever slept in, but it came close. I lay there for an hour, staring up at the rusted metal slats.

Then her voice drifted down. “You awake?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “I haven’t slept.”

“I don’t like you,” she said flatly. “But if you die, my home goes barren. So... don’t.”

I turned toward the edge of the bed. Antonia was leaning over the metal guard rail, her head cradled in her hands.

“I won’t let anyone die because of me,” I said quietly.

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