Page 52 of Severed Heir

We picked our way back toward the estate. Myla twirled the end of her braid and said, “You sure you’re okay with Cully?”

I smirked. “On second thought, for your own good, he might bore you to death.”

She laughed under her breath. “I don’t mind boring. It’s nice... to escape the battle for once. And when he’s not writing scripture, he’s actually a decent fable author. He’s working on a book.”

“Write to me when he finishes,” I said. “I’d love to read it.”

We rounded a bend in the path, and the estate came into view, its roof dusted with frost, warm light glowing through thewindows like a beacon. Inside, Father lay slumped across the velvet couch, boots kicked up on the table, a low fire crackling in the hearth. Antonia sat beside Fraser, animatedly gesturing as she ranted about how much she hated the cold.

I nudged Myla and tipped my head toward them. “Fraser’s blushing.”

She grinned. “He’s from a Day bloodline, and shadows fascinate him. I think he’s Monty’s cousin, or something just as cursed.”

Across the room, Cully hunched over his journal in the dining hall. I walked up to him. “Cully, can we talk? Alone.”

He looked up, and his golden eyes were soft beneath the usual exhaustion. “Of course, Sev.”

Charles cracked his neck in the corner, clearly begging the universe for a reason to get involved—but Cully stood without hesitation and followed me out into the cold.

“I’m giving you permission,” I said, voice low. “To date Myla. Just… don’t screw her over. Don’t hurt her.”

He let out a slow breath and rubbed his palms near the flame I hovered between us. “Okay. I won’t. I promise. And… thanks, I guess.”

“And one more thing,” I added. “What exactly does journaling the next Serpent get you?”

Cully scratched his jaw. Hesitation flickered behind his eyes. “If I’m the first to document it? A commission. Freedom. The right to write wherever I want.” His voice dropped a notch. “But Valscribe… they already know everything. Who’s going to win, who’s going to fall. They know before half the realms even realize there’s a new heir.”

I frowned. “You’re serious?”

He nodded. “They’re always there at the lindworm trials, always watching. It will be years before they let me be one of them again.”

“You want freedom,” I murmured. “To write what you want. Where you want.”

“Of course.” He gave a faint, self-deprecating smile. “Isn’t that what we all want?”

“Grab your quill and paper,” I said.

He blinked. “I left it inside. I didn’t want you accusing me of… journaling you.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m a Serpent, Cully. I’m the next heir.” I stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. “There is your story.”

His mouth parted. Shock flickered across his face. “There’s no way,” he breathed. “Who—who are you heir to?”

Without answering, I unfastened my cloak and turned slightly, bracing against the wind. “The heir of Night,” I said. “The heir of Shadows. I am Archer Lynch’s heir.”

Cully staggered back a step. “Sev, do you realize how many journalists have failed to uncover that?”

“There’s your freedom,” I said. “Write whatever your heart desires.”

His eyes filled, and then he threw his arms around me. “Severyn,” he whispered, voice thick with pride. “You were always my favorite sibling. You have no idea what this means for me”

I closed my eyes, leaning into him. “I expect your fables in my library someday. I expect the best damn story of my legacy.”

He laughed softly, squeezing my shoulders. “I’ll write you well. Maybe I’ll even leave out the embarrassing childhood bits.”

I smiled, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I want this for you, Cul. No more dungeons, no more writing in the cold.”

Maybe I trusted too easily—offering up my truth like it couldn’t undo me. And maybe the saddest part was that the only people I trusted with it... were the ones who shared my blood.

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