Page 60 of Severed Heir

Hadrian’s smile cracked. “Word of advice, Mr. Lynch, don’t grant your heir too much freedom. She’s only ever learned from her father’s failure.”

Archer’s shadows surged across the table, claws of darkness curling near Hadrian’s throat. “Apologize,” he said, voice lowand lethal, “before your son becomes the next Serpent of Wrathi sooner than you planned.”

Hadrian leaned back, a nervous chuckle tugging at the edge of his smug grin. “You’re in love with her. With your heir.”

Motava laughed like it was the juiciest secret she’d ever heard. “Such a scandal.”

Archer’s shadows retracted, slow and trembling, like it physically hurt to hold them back. “Then let’s strike a bargain,” he said, voice cold as steel. “You warm North Colindale. In return, your son may court Severyn—once. If she chooses him, it’s her will. Not yours.”

I turned so fast the floor spun beneath me. “I will not.”

Heat surged up my arms, scorching through my veins. The goblet in my hand cracked, then shattered, and the pale-orange wine spilled across the table like blood.

“You can’t force me,” I hissed, every word trembling.

I knew what Archer was doing. This wasn’t politics. This was punishment. His way of showing me we could not exist.

Hadrian tapped his fingers against the table, leaving faint scorch marks in the wood. “If Severyn marries my son,” he said smoothly, “then, and only then, will I gift the sun. I suggest you decide soon.”

But I barely heard him. The bond roared in my head. The betrayal burned beneath my skin. Maybe it had always been the bond, this false affection stitched into my veins. Maybe none of it had been real.

I stared down at the shattered glass in my lap. Always glass. Always sharp enough to bleed on, but never whole enough to heal. If Archer wanted to break me, he had. And he hadn’t even needed to touch me. He’d just let them do it for him.

Hadrian clapped a hand on his son’s back, shoving him forward with a smug grin. “Introduce yourself,” he muttered.

Caius scoffed but said nothing.

Slowly, deliberately, I turned—not to Hadrian, but to Archer. “I choose Ellison,” I said. The truth was, I found Ellison rather annoying. So really, this felt like a punishment for us both.

Archer stiffened, shadows rippling across his knuckles.

“The guards get two days off a week,” I added, my gaze shifting to Hadrian now. “I’m sure he can visit me in Night.”

And maybe it was petty. Maybe it was cruel. But I knew how to shatter someone, too. Archer made his choice. He chose fear. He chose power. He chose duty over me.

So I chose power for myself. Possibly even dragging out that inner Herring ruthlessness inside of me.

Because if no one was coming to save me, then I’d save myself, even if it meant burning every bond to ash. And from the pure rage on Archer’s face, I knew whatever was between us was gone.

The Serpent hostel in Tyvern was grander than the last three I’d stayed in, with two actual rooms and a real bath that didn’t reek of rust or mold. Archer hadn’t said a word as the guard left us there.

I spent an hour in the bath, fingers pruned, letting the heat soak into my aching skin. But even then, I couldn’t stop myself. I tilted my head under the doorframe, searching for the curve of his shadow moving through the common room.

When Kamila’s spare silk pajamas brushed against my skin, and the new flight leathers she’d gifted me were packed neatly for tomorrow, I thought—what would I even say to him? What could I possibly say, knowing he had bartered a date with another man just to prove he didn’t love me?

I should’ve been furious. Should’ve slammed every door in this gods-forsaken hostel. But instead, I stood frozen, heartpounding, fingers trembling on the wooden knob. Slowly, I eased the door open wider.

The common room was empty. No Archer.

I darted across the floor, skidding into the second bedroom and slamming the door behind me. My back hit the wall as I scrambled for the bed, diving under the covers and tugging the sheets up to my chin. With shaking hands, I lit the lantern on the bedside table.

I didn’t see him at first.

Not until I heard his voice. “Who is Ellison?”

I shot upright. He stepped from the shadows like a god carved from wrath, his jaw clenched, his hands flexing at his sides as if it took everything in him not to cross the room.

I swallowed. “He’s just a guard I met.”

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