Page 68 of Severed Heir

“Partly.” He looked away. “And yet... now that you’re here, I feel like I’ve taken something from you.”

“You didn’t,” I said softly. “I’m supposed to be here. I just don’t know how our grandparents did it, yours ruling in the dusk, mine in the daylight. How did they survive that kind of distance?”

“I think you already know,” Archer murmured. His gaze flicked to my palm.

“Ciaran gave you the choice. I would’ve hidden the serpent and let you choose. Every hundred hatchlings, a dragon’s root fractures, and a bloodline splits. That’s why Naraic carries flame, and Ciaran carries shadow. Ciaran hatched first.”

“Our grandparents severed that root,” I whispered. “I inherited my grandmother’s flame. But the shadows…” I flexed my fingers. “They weren’t mine. They were given.”

“Ciaran’s true power was always shadow,” Archer said. “Naraic and Ciaran’s ancestors all carried shadows.”

“And Naraic’s flame came from Veravine?”

He nodded. “His first rider. But Gemini dragons were never meant to be split. One shouldn’t carry two powers across two riders. When the root divides, it births a new bloodline. New rules. New bonds. If Naraic hadn’t been the hundredth hatchling, my grandfather would’ve bonded with both.”

My chest tightened. “So Ciaran bonded to me by choice?”

“She saw you,” Archer said. “And she gave you shadows so she could choose you. And Naraic… he can’t choose me.”

“Why not?”

“Because his flame is antecedent,” Archer said. “He carries it only because Veravine died.”

“So… should Naraic give you flame?”

He shook his head. “He can’t. Antecedent powers are only passed when a rider dies.”

I frowned. “You lost me at ‘dragon root’ and ‘bloodline.’”

“Gemini dragons weren’t meant to split powers,” Archer said. “When they do, they leave complicated legacies like ours. Ciaran will only bond with a shadow-wielder. Naraic, only with someone from your bloodline.”

“But Malachi bonded with Astoria. My mother’s wyvern. I thought dragon bonds were tied to blood only?”

“They are,” Archer said. “But it’s deeper than blood. It’s about roots.”

“Roots?”

He nodded. “Think of a dragon root like a family tree. Power doesn’t just follow blood. It follows the lines beneath it. When Ciaran gave you shadow, she made you part of her root… and mine. You’re bonded to both dragons now.”

My brain hurt from the history lesson. “Well,” I muttered, “I guess I’d better learn to wield a shadow.”

“No one leaves this balcony,” he said. “Not until I see one.”

I tilted my head, holding his gaze. “Is this the version of you I’m supposed to hate? The demanding one?”

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, a ribbon of shadow uncoiled from his palm, winding around my wrist and guiding my hand upward, palm exposed.

“We’re going to quell-share,” he said. Then his crescent scar brushed mine.

Cold spilled beneath my skin as his magic slipped into me like black silk weaving through bone. We’d never shared shadows before. It felt like being struck by lightning and kissed by the wind in the same breath.

He stepped back. My shadow followed, stretching with him, curling like smoke across stone.

I gripped the railing, shivering.

“How does it feel?” he asked softly, dark lashes low over his eyes. “Quell-sharing shadows, I mean.”

“Like drowning,” I whispered. “But being resuscitated every time my heart stops.”

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