Page 159 of Severed Heir

“Why is there only one Day realm and one Night realm?”

“There used to be more,” he said. “But they went barren.”

“How?”

“There can only ever be one of each. Light and dark cancel each other out.” He paused, his voice turning more distant. “Years ago, there was a war for the sun. Realms were starving. Crops failing. Monty’s grandfather was the last Day Serpent left standing. His family took what they needed from the fallen. Winter needs sunlight to grow. Summer needs cold to survive. Light doesn’t exist without shadow.”

He glanced down at me. “Some say we’re sworn enemies.”

I let out a soft laugh. “The king is from Day, right? Did the Garcias take the Herring land?”

“When the other Day realms collapsed, Monty’s family turned on the king’s estate. They burned it to the ground. What was left became the capital.”

“And now Monty wants the throne,” I murmured.

“His bloodline is strong,” Archer said. “When the king names his heir, I’m afraid whatever trial follows will crown a tyrant.”

“Maybe that’s why his line hasn’t burned out yet.”

Archer turned to me. “Do you think I’ve tainted mine by naming you my heir?”

I scoffed. “I don’t have Night blood. You’re a reckless ruler, trusting flame to protect your realm.”

His hands slid over my ribs, fingers trailing each shallow breath. “You have Day blood. Maybe, in another life, we were enemies.”

“I’m mudded blood, Archer,” I said with a quiet laugh. “You let more than your sworn nemesis into your realm. You let them into your bed.”

“I let you into my heart,” he replied, steady and low. “A dangerous move. My ancestors are probably spinning in their graves.”

I brushed my fingers along his jaw. “What happens now? You said no one would accept an heir and a ruler together.”

He exhaled slowly. “Then I let the light in… and we see what survives.”

“The hellebores in Colindale only bloomed purple during the best thaws,” I murmured.

“I’ve only seen them that color since you became my heir.” Archer’s hand drifted down my arm, slow and warm. “Maybe you are the light.”

For a moment, I could almost believe it. I could picture the normality. Even if it meant pretending. Prancing through his estate in ridiculous gowns, laughing like we hadn’t been accused of treason. I wanted to live in that illusion, just for a while.

But I couldn’t shake the dread still curling in my chest. Not after Wrathi.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I woke in the early hours, the faint light of dawn spilling through the cracked golden sun emblem on the windowpane.

“Severyn,”a voice called. It was soft, almost childlike, and it tugged at something buried deep in my memory. “Come find me.”

Something gripped me. Not hands, not truly. It was a force, unseen and insistent. It pulled at my limbs, and I was already moving before I realized I had stood.

The hallway blurred around me. I moved down the stairs, past Lynwood, who was slumped over his desk, completely still. A small pool of drool had gathered beneath his chin.

The front door creaked open on its own.

Outside, Ravensla was silent. There were no carts in the street, no scavengers lurking in the shadows. Not even a flicker of lantern light lit the alleyways.

And there, in the center of the road, stood a man.

He wore a silver-tipped hat that gleamed under the moonlight. A monocle caught the light just beneath the brim. One gloved hand extended, fingers open, as if invisible threads had stitched themselves into my skin and he was slowly reeling me in.

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