CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
For a single, static moment, time stood still.
Then Tem cried:
“That’s barbaric .”
Caspen opened his eyes. There was nothing but remorse in them.
“It is tradition, Tem. You will find they are often one and the same.”
“I can’t believe you expect me to—”
“ I do not expect you to do anything. ”
Caspen grabbed her shoulders, shocking her into silence. He sighed, hanging his head and pressing his forehead gently to hers. “Put it out of your mind. It will not come to pass. I will never request it of you.”
To Tem’s surprise, she felt a flare of anger.
“Why not?” she stood taller. “Do you think I’m incapable?”
Caspen sighed.
“Tem. Do not do that.”
“Do what?”
“Do not bait me into saying something you will hold against me. It is not that I think you are incapable. It is that I would never subject you to something that should not be expected of anyone. It is not a tradition I wish to be a part of.”
“Then why did you propose to me in the first place?”
Caspen’s grip on her tightened.
“I proposed to you because a life without you is not a life I care to live.”
His words stopped her short. A life without Caspen wasn’t a life she cared to live either. But it didn’t make what he’d done any better.
Now it was Tem’s turn to close her eyes. She was still aware of Caspen before her, of the burning fire beside them. But she took a moment to delve deep within herself—to listen only to her own mind. Tem couldn’t believe Caspen had kept this from her. And yet, she understood why he’d done so. She was quite sure she wouldn’t have been able to absorb this information even a week ago. But things were different now. She was different now.
Tem opened her eyes.
“If it’s the only way I would be accepted, why wouldn’t you beg me to do it?”
A slight frown wrinkled Caspen’s brow.
“Because it is an insult, Tem.”
“It’s also tradition.”
“ Fuck tradition.”
To her surprise, there was true anger in his eyes. Caspen was sometimes firm, often strict, but he rarely used profanity with such emphasis. Tem recalled their conversation about his strained relationship with his father—a relationship that surely wouldn’t improve if Tem were to have sex with him.It occurred to her that she was not the only one who would be affected by the ritual: Caspen would suffer in his own way.
“It is meant to test you,” Caspen continued. “Basilisks value sex above all else. It is how we measure our capability—how we determine who succeeds, who ascends, who rules. It is both a revered and deeply primal act: one that, the more it is done, and the better you are at it, the higher your position in our society. The king holds the highest male ranking. He earned that position through sex.”
“ Earned? ”
“Yes, Tem. Such is the basilisk way.”
Tem was in shock. At the look on her face, Caspen sighed.
“If the king approves of you, everyone will. Or at least, they should. The idea is that if you are worthy of the king, then you are worthy of any basilisk.”
So it was an initiation. Tem could understand that on a basic level—she could understand, theoretically , how the basilisks would want a human to prove themselves worthy.
“But he is your father ,” she whispered.
Caspen sighed again.
“Yes. I am well aware of that. But this has always been the way things are done. I would not be the first son to experience this situation with my father.”
Tem shook her head. There were no words.
She thought about Leo’s relationship with his father. She could only imagine that Caspen, also a prince, had similar problems—problems that couldn’t be fixed with a single conversation—problems the depth of which Tem couldn’t possibly fathom.
There was no way she could do this—no way she could mount a father the same way she mounted his son. Tem had always known how the basilisks valued sex. But this was so far beyond the scope of sanity that she was having a hard time processing it.
She looked up at Caspen.
“What happens if I don’t do it? Can we still be together?”
“We can. But…”
He faltered. Tem waited him out.
“My people will not accept you,” Caspen said finally. “They will consider you an accessory—a plaything—a—”
He paused, searching for the right word. When he finally found it, he finished quietly:
“ They will look upon you as my pet, Tem.”
Rage shot through her. Tem was nobody’s pet.
“Is that the future you want for us?” she said sharply. “As owner and pet?”
“No,” he shook his head. “Of course not.”
“Then how do you suggest we proceed?”
In the pause that followed, Tem watched as a thousand emotions passed through Caspen’s eyes—regret, desire, and concern foremost among them. All he wanted was for her to be safe—for her to fit smoothly into his life without the struggles that inevitably came with their relationship. But it was not destined to be so. Now Tem knew the truth—that she would never be accepted—that she would nev?er be able to stand beside him as his equal in the eyes of his people unless she did this single, unfathomable thing.
Caspen didn’t reply. Instead, he kissed her.
In his kiss, she felt everything he couldn’t say. She remembered the parts of her that had been stifled and miserable until the moment she’d met Caspen in the cave. Her life was empty before Caspen. He’d shown her that she was capable—that she mattered. It was a revelation Tem now believed wholeheartedly, and she was no longer willing to settle for less than she deserved. Even if that meant having no one at all.
Caspen’s lips were gentle on hers. He didn’t pull her closer or try to undress her. Tem knew he was purposefully holding back, and she was grateful for his restraint. The only advance he made was internal: she felt him tentatively brush along the edge of their connection, as if he were knocking on the door to her mind.
Tem didn’t let him in yet.
She allowed the kiss deepen first, letting Caspen slip his hands into her hair, letting him pull her body against his. His desire was obvious, and so was hers. But Tem was taking her time now. The only thing she wanted was to enjoy this kiss.
It wasn’t hard to do so.
Caspen’s hands cradled her face, holding it to his. His tongue caressed hers softly, coaxing a moan from her throat. He brushed his lips briefly to her cheek before returning to her mouth, paying her such care and attention that she felt like the only girl in the world.
Eventually, she opened her mind.
Neither of them said anything at first. Instead, Caspen’s presence curled around hers, holding her the same way his hands did: tenderly, as if she were something exceedingly precious to him. It was only when Tem let the last of her guard down that he whispered:
I love you, Tem.
Tem loved him too. Their connection was undeniable; it rippled through every inch of Tem’s body, vibrating from her head to her fingertips. She could feel her resistance slipping with every stroke of his tongue, her desire to be with him rapidly eroding her desire to be angry at him. Caspen was in her mind, and she knew he could sense this. Still, he didn’t take things further. Instead, he pulled away. They stared at each other for a long moment, the only sound the snap of the fireplace.
Caspen spoke first:
“Will you take a walk with me?”
“Where?”
“I must show you something.”
He waited until she nodded before taking her hand in his.
They entered the passageway together, and Tem immediately trained her eyes on the ground.
“Where are we going?”
“Patience, Tem.”
“I can’t take any more surprises, Caspen.”
He didn’t reply.
They wound deeper and deeper beneath the mountain, passing doorway after doorway. It was impossible to know how time functioned here—nothing to tell her whether the sun or the moon was above them.
Caspen?
He squeezed her hand.
Tem?
Is this where you spend your time?
Sometimes. I also venture outside to hunt. But yes, beneath the mountain is where I dwell.
Tem’s eyes began to adjust to the stark darkness.
How much further?
It is not far. I promise.
True to his word, they stopped a few minutes later.
They were standing at the entrance of an enormous room. Great stone arches curved above their heads into endless blackness above. Tem tried to look up at the ceiling, but even when she squinted, she couldn’t see it.
“Where are we?”
Instead of answering, Caspen guided her forward.
Tem shivered as they walked along the cold stone floor. Unlike Caspen’s chambers, which were warmed by his fireplace and his own body heat, this place was cold: she felt the undeniable pull of death here. Tem curled herself against Caspen.
“Almost there, Tem.”
She followed his lead, foraying even deeper into the darkness. Finally, they reached what appeared to be the center of the room. Caspen stopped, and Tem stopped too.
Before them stood a great stone monolith.
It disappeared up into the ether, far beyond what was visible to her human eyes. Even when Tem craned her neck, she couldn’t see the top.
“What is this?” she whispered.
Caspen’s hand tightened in hers.
“It is a memorial.”
Tem could just make out etchings on the stone—etchings that looked like names. She squinted, attempting to read the carved words.
“Who are they?”
Caspen didn’t respond, and Tem didn’t ask him to. She stepped closer, peering at the names on the great stone slab, all recorded with complete precision.
With a jolt, Tem recognized a single word: Drakon .
“Your quiver…” she said, stepping even closer.
“Yes.”
Another word jumped out at her: Seneca.
Rowe’s quiver.
“What happened to them?”
“They went missing.”
Tem frowned.
“When?”
“After the war.”
“ After the war?”
“Yes.”
Tem processed this information. It didn’t make sense. The war was over; the royals had defeated the basilisks and brokered the truce, and there had been no battles since. She couldn’t imagine why basilisks would go missing.
“Where have they gone?”
As soon as she asked it, she found she already knew the answer.
Help me.
The voice she’d heard—the disembodied plea that plagued her every time she went to the castle—it had to be a basilisk. Caspen’s answer confirmed what she already knew:
“The castle.”
Tem felt a chill go down her spine.
“The royals would have you believe that all has been quiet since the war,” Caspen continued, his voice low and urgent. “But that is not the case. My people have gone missing for centuries.”
“But why? ” Tem stuttered. “Why would the royals keep basilisks in the castle?”
“To use us.”
“For what?”
Now Caspen hesitated. He turned to her, his jaw tense.
“Tem,” he said quietly. “I must ask you something. And you must answer with complete honesty.”
Tem blinked. He was so deeply serious—so obviously concerned—that she had no idea how to react to his tone. She said the only thing she could think to say:
“Ask me.”
Still, Caspen hesitated. He touched her waist, drawing his fingertips slowly down her body.
“Are you loyal to him?”
Tem understood he was asking about the human prince. There was no doubt that Leo held a piece of her heart. But so did Caspen. He always would.
“I am loyal to you.”
Not a yes or a no. Simply a statement of fact. It was the best Tem could give him, and Caspen seemed resigned to her answer. His hand gripped her tightly, his fingers digging into her hips as he said:
“The royals use basilisks for bloodletting.”
Tem frowned. “Bloodletting?”
“It is a process where our blood is alchemized into gold. This—” Caspen touched the golden claw around her neck “—is a piece of me.”
Comprehension hit Tem like a tidal wave. The necklace was not just a gesture—no mere trinket to symbolize his intentions—Caspen had bled for her.
“They hunt us, Tem,” he continued, his words rushed and tight. “They take us to the castle and they bleed us until we have nothing left to give,” he gestured at the memorial. “Hundreds have died there.”
Tem reeled from this revelation. It was difficult to comprehend such cruelty. Everything made sense now—how the royals had accumulated so much gold—how they used their wealth to wield power over anyone who tried to cross them—how Maximus kept the basilisks in their place. She thought of Leo’s teeth, of his tapered incisors sheathed in gold: a symbol of wealth, of power, of dominance. Their fang-like shape was nothing but an imitation and a mockery of the basilisk from whose blood they were made.Tem fought a wave of nausea as she remembered how her tongue had touched those teeth just last night. Something even worse occurred to her.
Did Leo know about this horrible practice?
Would he sanction it, the same way his father had? Leo hated the basilisks. It was a hatred formed by years of prejudice—a hatred that ran irreversibly deep. Tem remembered Leo’s gold cuff: the same one that encircled Maximus’s wrist.
Like father, like son.
“Is there a way to help them?” Tem whispered. “To get them out?”
“Yes,” Caspen said slowly, his golden eyes searching hers. “But it will be…difficult.”
Tem was sure of that. There was no way to rescue the basilisks in the castle without alerting the royals of their departure. Surely any plan to get them out would involve bloodshed. Tem didn’t want to imagine which side would suffer more.
“Tem,” Caspen murmured, breaking her from her thoughts. “The time will come when you will have to choose.”
Tem didn’t want to believe it. She refused to believe it.
And yet, somewhere in the depths of her soul, she knew Caspen was right. She knew, without a doubt, that she would be forced to pick a side—that eventually, her heart would inevitably break.
“I don’t want to choose,” she whispered.
Caspen smiled sadly.
“I know.”
The room seemed to grow colder.
Tem’s fingers touched the little golden claw around her neck. She thought about how it was made from Caspen’s body—from his blood. There were no words for what he had done.
Her eyes found his.
“Caspen,” she whispered.
He pressed a single finger to her lips.
“Tem,” he murmured. “It was worth it. For you, I would give anything.”
His hands moved to either side of her face.
“I love you.”
He’d said it just minutes ago. But this time it was a plea: a question to which only Tem had the answer. He was asking if she was on his side—if her feelings for Leo were non-negotiable—if she would choose the basilisks over the humans.
Tem didn’t have the answers to any of those questions.
Caspen looked at her, and for the first time, she saw how difficult their situation was for him. It wasn’t unlike the way Leo had looked at her just this morning. Both men wanted Tem for themselves. But there was a factor that neither of them could predict: her. She did not want to pick a side; she did not want to choose. There had to be another way.
They stood at the memorial for a long time. Eventually, Tem began to shiver again, and they walked back through the passageways together. When they reached Caspen’s chambers, Tem reclined on his bed. Caspen followed, wrapping his arms around her before releasing a weary sigh against her shoulder. Tem knew he had not asked for any of this.
Neither had she.
Caspen’s fingers skimmed gently up her back.
“Please, Tem,” he whispered. “Tell me I have not lost you.”
It was impossible to miss the desperation in his voice. But it didn’t matter, real?l?y, how Caspen felt. The only thing that mattered was what Tem was willing to do—how far she was willing to go for him.
“You haven’t lost me,” she whispered.
Caspen pressed a soft kiss to her neck. Then to her cheek. Then to her lips.
Tem kissed him back, forgetting everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours. She forgot how Leo had showed up at the Horseman—how he had come to her cottage—how he had touched her while she touched him back. She only knew this moment, right here, with Caspen.
They moved slowly at first, remembering the way the other felt. Tem undressed herself, enjoying the way Caspen watched her as she did so. He was still holding back—still waiting for permission to take things further. Tem was ready to give it.
Caspen .
Tem .
Touch me.
Caspen trailed his fingers slowly down her body, brushing them along the dip of her waist before pulling her beneath him. Tem tipped her knees open, and Caspen’s eyes immediately turned black.
So beautiful, Tem.
You always say that.
Because it is true.
Craving bloomed within her as Caspen slid two fingers deep into her center, all the way to his knuckles. Then he paused. They both stayed perfectly still, each of them watching the other. Caspen’s gaze traced over her body with boundless veneration.
Tem would never get tired of being looked at that way.
His fingers moved steadily in and out of her, warming her with each stroke. His other hand wrapped around her neck, arching her head back so he could bend down and kiss her throat. It felt so right to be connected to him like this: to move together as if they were never apart to begin with. Caspen understood her in a way no one else ever could; her body was an instrument only he could play.
Caspen waited until Tem was dripping with wetness before removing his fingers. His hand went to his cock, but he didn’t enter her. Instead, he said:
May I?
Tem found it significant that he had asked. She knew it was a gesture—a way to seek her forgiveness. He was asking permission to fuck her—begging for the privilege of being inside her. It made Tem feel powerful, and she liked that feeling.
Yes.
Even with her consent, Caspen still went slowly. He positioned himself between her legs, wrapping them around his torso one after the other. His eyes met hers as he finally entered her, sliding only an inch of his cock in before pulling back out. Tem moaned as he did it again, going just an inch further this time, holding himself back from everything she knew he dearly wanted to do.
More, Caspen.
He gave her more.
Tem gasped with relief as he filled her completely, and Caspen did the same. He was her home, and she was his. Their union was sacred. It was the truth.
Tem pushed Caspen so she could climb on top of him.
She wanted him to see every inch of her—to show him everything he needed permission to have. Caspen’s eyes were black with desire, any trace of gold completely gone. His skin was hot; it was nearly unbearable. Beads of sweat rolled between Tem’s breasts, pooling on Caspen’s torso. She dug her fingers possessively into his skin, claiming him for herself.
Touch me, Caspen.
He touched her.
He ran his palms over her ass, her hips, her breasts. He brushed his fingertips over her nipples, coaxing them into eager peaks. Tem leaned into all of it—pleasuring herself exactly the way she wanted—taking her climax into her own hands. For once in her life, Tem was in control. She couldn’t contain her moans. It felt so good to ride him—to slide up and down his cock—to fill herself to the brim.
Caspen simply watched her, letting her do whatever she wanted, touching her when and where she told him to. She wasn’t worried about him; his climax was inevitable in the same way the sun rose in the east and set in the west. She was concerned only with herself, chasing nothing but her own pleasure, knowing that no matter what she did, his cock would remain rigid beneath her.
Sit up.
Caspen sat up. There was sweat on his temple. She licked it.
From this angle, her clitoris was stimulated nearly to the point of torment, and she flicked her hips as quickly as she could to reinforce the sensation. Caspen held onto her as if his life depended on it. And maybe it did. Maybe, given what they were up against, all they really had was each other. Maybe this was the only thing that mattered—this fleeting minute—this cosmic moment of connection that could be taken away at any second. Tem only wanted him more—only wanted him deeper. If she could slice herself open and wrap herself around him she would. And she knew Caspen would do the same.
Smoke rose from his shoulders. It curled around her neck.
More.
Caspen shook his head.
Do not tempt me.
Tem pressed herself against him.
More, Caspen.
He could not resist her. She knew it as well as he did.
His eyes were black; his skin scalding to the touch. The smoke tightened as a low hiss filled the room. Caspen was close. She could feel it in every thrust; she could sense it in every breath. His shoulders were tense beneath her hands. Even Caspen could not resist the draw of pleasure. The moment her climax began, so did his.
Tem.
Her lips were on his neck.
Tem. Tem. Tem.
They moved to the rhythm of her name, falling over the edge together.
TEM.
Without thinking, she bit him.
Instead of pulling away, Caspen only pulled her closer.
I am yours, Tem.
She sucked on his neck, pulling the warm fabric of his skin between her teeth until she felt it break—until she tasted the stunning metallic of Caspen’s blood. Hot wetness poured into her mouth in a willing wave as she took what he’d already giv?en her. Tem wanted to mark him—to inflict a shadow of the pain he’d inflicted on her. Caspen’s fingers gripped her head, holding her against him. He gave himself to her the same way she gave herself to him—the same way any lover would relinquish their power to the other. When Tem released him, she arched her head back in triumph. Caspen kissed her throat.
Little viper.
Afterward, they lay together, her head on his chest. Tem ran her fingers over his neck. The wound had already healed.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” she murmured against his skin, memorizing the way he tasted.
He sighed gently, pulling her closer.
“I am afraid not. I have matters to attend to.”
Again with the mysterious matters. Tem didn’t bother asking about them. She didn’t even want to know what they were at this point.
“What about the next day?”
“It is the Passing of the Crown.”
“So?”
“So,” he sighed again. “You will be expected at the ceremony.”
There were five girls left in the competition. The next elimination would occur at the ball, after which the final three would stay in the castle until the prince chose his wife. Tem had never imagined she would make it this far.
Tem tried to kiss him. It seemed better than talking.
To her surprise, Caspen didn’t take the bait. He held her back, looking straight into her eyes as he said:
“Tem. I know the human prince loves you.”
Now it was Tem’s turn to sigh.
“He doesn’t know what he wants.”
That was also true. Leo was still in love with Evelyn. As a result, he was unpredictable—ruled by emotions, and prone to dangerous spontaneity. He was entirely human, and always would be.
“He wants you .”
Tem sighed again.
“What would you have me do?” she asked.
Caspen pulled her even closer.
“I would have you remember who you belong to.”
“I could never forget,” Tem whispered.
She wanted to have sex again. But there were still questions to be answered—things that gnawed at her soul with incomparable insistence.
“You never told me who you crested .”
Caspen went suddenly still. His dark eyes locked onto hers.
“That was deliberate.”
“I know. But you need to tell me.”
“Why?”
“Because you are done keeping secrets from me. And your past matters.”
Caspen observed her with the same deep intelligence she’d come to expect from him. It was so easy to get lost in his eyes—to forget what she was asking in the first place.
“It should not matter,” he said.
“But it does.”
Tem placed her hand gently on his chest.
“Caspen,” she whispered. “Tell me.”
Their bodies were draped together. There was no space between them—no room to hide.
Eventually, Caspen spoke:
“The Drakons have had difficulties with the Senecas for centuries, long before the war with the humans.”
Tem remained silent, syncing her breathing to his.
“Both quivers have fought for power. At times, it has become violent.”
Caspen paused.
“My father…” he said slowly. “…values power above all else. He is willing to sacrifice anything for it.”
Tem thought about how Caspen’s father was the true Serpent King. She could only imagine what it took to gain and keep such a title.
“Are you?” she asked.
Caspen’s eyes flicked to hers. “Am I what?”
“Willing to sacrifice anything for power?”
Caspen pulled her closer, as if he were afraid she might slip away.
“Not anything.”
For some reason, Tem grew cold.
“Caspen,” she whispered. “Tell me what happened.”
“It is not complicated,” he said quietly. “My father wanted the throne. Anoth?er basilisk was in the way. My father asked me to crest them, and I did so.”
“Who?”
His lips drew into a tight line.
“Rowe’s father.”
Tem remembered the conversation in the ballroom with perfect clarity:
Say one more word and you will join your father.
She recalled the way Rowe had looked at Caspen with complete hatred—the way he had called him a traitor. Caspen had killed his own kind. He had crested another basilisk, and made enemies in the process. Tem couldn’t understand why a father would ask such a thing of his son.
“Why did you do it?”
Caspen sighed.
“There is no limit to what I would do for those I love.”
Tem couldn’t help but notice the parallels of their situations. When faced with an impossible choice, Caspen had chosen the harder path—the path with consequences. Now, when faced with the prospect of the ritual, Tem felt a similar pull. She pressed her lips gently to his.
There was no limit to what she would do for those she loved either.