Page 66 of Severed Heir

My stomach twisted, breath catching hard in my throat.“Leave,”I hissed. “I’m not at the institute anymore.”

“Perhaps I was never there.”

Across the garden, Amria straightened, her brows pinching as she stepped forward. “Are you all right? You’ve gone pale. Should I call a healer—”

“I’m fine,” I said, too fast, already rising, already retreating.

“Severyn, miss, please. Dinner should be ready, I know Archer had a special meal prepared just for the occasion.”

“I’m fine,” I repeated. “Truly.”

But even I could tell my voice didn’t sound like mine. The only thing anchoring me was the scent of food drifting through the corridor, though it smelled more like soaked cabbage laced with spice.

I should eat something. Anything.

“I don’t care to play this game,” I muttered under my breath, shaking off the last of that voice’s grip. “You either tell me who you are, or I will force you out.”

“Our game ends when I say it’s over,”the bond mocked.“And oh, I can’t wait to watch this date unfold. How cruel Archer is—he succumbs to his desires, then pretends you don’t exist. That must feel horrible.”

“You don’t understand,” I whispered aloud.

“Then enlighten me.”

I entered the dining hall and sat alone at the long obsidian table. A servant approached in silence and placed a glass of wine before me.

“Have you ever been in love?” I whispered aloud.

“No.”

I scoffed. “Figures. Clearly you have too much time on your hands.”

“I have all the time in the world for you.”

Then Archer stepped into the room, freshly showered. Water clung to the ends of his dark curls.

“Who are you talking to?” he asked, settling into the chair across from me.

The light from the antler-beast chandelier caught on his shirt, and the buttons glinted emerald. I could have sworn they were violet back at the Academy.

I cleared my throat and slammed the bond shut. “No one,” I said, reaching for my wine. In fact, I downed the whole glass in one sip.

“I had something special prepared for tonight,” he said, nodding toward the cook lingering just out of sight. “Figured you deserved something warm.”

The cook brought out a steaming bowl of beet soup and a loaf of fresh sourdough. I stared at it, blank, wondering if he’d asked for this himself—for his birthday.

The silence pressed in until I broke it.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”

He leaned back, lifting his dark drink to his lips. “The same reason you didn’t.”

I dipped my spoon into the soup, my voice quieter now. “Potato and beet?”

“Your favorite,” he said without hesitation. “Isn’t it?”

My hand dropped the spoon with a sharp clang. “You tell me to stay away from you. And yet you have Amria plant flowers—flowers I grew for Klaus’s grave. You have my favorite meal prepared. I don’t know what the hell you want.”

His gaze darkened. “I don’t want to strip you of who you are, Severyn. The Night will bleed you dry until your blood runs gray. This…” his voice tightened, “this is the least I can do.”

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