CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Morning arrived before Tem was ready.
Caspen accompanied her to the head of the trail, as always. He kissed her goodbye, as always. Only this time it felt different. This time she knew what it would take to be a part of his world, and the knowledge sat in her core like a stone. When Caspen pressed his lips to hers, it felt like an apology.
Tem walked home alone.
Her mother was weeding the garden, and Tem joined her wordlessly. She pulled weed after weed, pouring all her bottled-up energy into the task at hand.
Inevitably, her thoughts turned to the ritual.
It was vile. Plain and simple. And yet, Tem understood it. Sex was currency to the basilisks. It made sense that the only way to infiltrate their ranks was through seduction—that the only way to earn their approval was to perform the act of sex itself. But not even Tem could deny that sleeping with Caspen’s father was at best, unusual, and at worst, horrifying. What kind of society would allow for such a thing?
Such was the basilisk way.
Tem sighed, yanking out another weed. If she did the ritual, she could be with Caspen fully, the way they were meant to be together. But if she did not, she would never be properly accepted into his world. She was at an impasse, and she had no idea what to do.
“My dear?”
Tem jolted back to the present, where her mother was looking at her expectantly.
“What?”
“You seem quiet. Are you well?”
Tem stared at the weed in her hand. Against her will, she began to cry.
Her mother immediately dropped her rake and embraced her.
“Whatever is the matter, Tem?”
Tem only cried harder. She had no words for her situation—no way to express just how helpless she really felt. It was, simply put, impossible.
Her mother held her until her sobs quieted. Tem marveled at the contact; it was the second time in two days they had hugged like this. She wondered suddenly if the elimination process brought other mothers and daughters closer together. It was a shared experience, after all. Her mother had gone into the caves just as Tem had—she had taken the same emotional and physical journey. For the first time, Tem considered confiding in her mother. She had been in love once. And love, if nothing else, was universal.
“Mother?” Tem asked against her shoulder.
“Yes, dear?”
“Why did you leave father?”
Her mother stiffened.
“Please,” Tem whispered. “I need to know.”
A long moment passed. To Tem’s surprise, her mother didn’t pull away. Instead she tucked her head against Tem’s so they were more comfortably intertwined, and Tem wondered if it was easier for her mother to speak on this topic when she wasn’t looking directly at her daughter.
“I left him because we could not be together.”
“Why not?”
“His family would not allow it.”
Tem considered this. Was it possible that this was where her mother’s pain began? Had her father’s family looked down on her, and she’d lost the love of her life because of it?
“I’m sorry, mother.”
Now her mother pulled away.
“Why, my dear?”
Tem shrugged. They held hands.
“Things have never been easy for you.”
Her mother shook her head.
“I only wish for things to be easy for you ,” she paused, then smiled. “ The prince favors you, my dear. He kissed you longer than anyone else. I think you have a real chance with him.”
Guilt twisted Tem’s stomach. She had just learned what it would take to be with Caspen, and she was seriously considering doing it. Things had escalated far beyond the scope of the competition: Leo’s favor was no longer the only thing at stake, and ultimately it didn’t matter whether she had a chance with him. If she chose Caspen, she would forsake Leo.
Her mother turned Tem’s hands over in hers, tracing the freckles on her palms.
“You hold the stars in your hands,” she whispered. “Just like your father.”
She’d said it a thousand times before. But this time she said it sadly, as if it were not a good thing.
“Mother,” Tem said quietly. “How do you know if someone loves you?”
Her mother met her eye.
“When they would sacrifice their happiness for yours.”
Tem processed her words, wondering whether Caspen or Leo would sacrifice their happiness for hers. More importantly, would she sacrifice her happiness for theirs? Caspen was already asking her to choose a side. It was only a matter of time before Leo did too. But why should Tem be the one to make such a sacrifice? Why shouldn’t they be forced to choose her ?
Her mother spoke again:
“We should finish our work.”
“Of course.”
They spent the rest of the day in amiable silence, and Tem used the time to think about their conversation. It was a wonder her mother had told her anything at all. But Tem was glad to learn what little detail she’d divulged, and every time she looked at her hands, she thought about her father. Did he miss her mother? Did he miss Tem? Clearly he hadn’t been willing to sacrifice his happiness for theirs. Perhaps all men were built that way. Perhaps it was women who bore the burden of sacrifice.
At last, it was evening.
Tem collapsed onto her bed, foregoing dinner. She briefly considered inserting the claw before remembering that it was gone. Instead she trailed her fingers between her legs, touching herself the way she had her entire life, doing what she’d done long before she met Caspen. There was something special about doing it this way: with no one else to direct her. Her eyes closed as she moaned softly, her fingers slipping into her wetness. She thought of Caspen—of the way he’d penetrated her just last night. She thought of Leo—of the way he’d pinched her clitoris until she’d cried out.
Then she thought of them both.
Was it really so wrong to picture them all together? Perhaps her mind was her last true sanctuary—the only place where she would never pick a side. She didn’t want to choose, and here she didn’t have to. It wasn’t something she’d ever fantasized about before: the three of them intertwining like silken strands of a braid. But once she began, she found she couldn’t stop.
Tem imagined herself kissing Caspen. Then Leo. Then both.
She lost herself in a vision of lips and hands and need , picturing the ways they could move with one another. It seemed a natural thing to her: to give herself to the men who loved her. Why shouldn’t they seek pleasure together? Why shouldn’t she be worshipped by the two people who wanted nothing more than to claim her as their own? She wanted to sit on one cock, then the other. She wanted to taste them both.
Her fingers worked desperately against her clitoris, rubbing until she couldn’t hold back any longer. She saw Leo before her, Caspen behind her. Their movements coalesced in a heated blur until blonde became black, gray became gold. They were all one—all the same.
Tem cried Kora’s name when she came.
As she drifted off to sleep, she imagined the princes on either side of her, cradling her body between theirs.
The next day dawned cold and joyless.
Tem completed her farm chores on autopilot, forcing herself to stay busy until dusk. When the sun was finally setting, she joined her mother on the path to the village.
The town square was packed with restless people, and Tem scanned the crowd for Gabriel, but he was nowhere to be found. She wandered the square alone, taking in the elaborate decorations. There was gold leaf everywhere: plastered on the shutters of the cottages facing the square, lining the wooden stage, even flecked across the cobblestones. Tem shuddered at the sight.
The Passing of the Crown always occurred at this point in the competition: when the prince was nearly ready to choose a wife. It was a way for the current king to express faith in his son’s choice—to show that the next generation was ready to rule. If the Passing of the Crown went well, the villagers could expect the king to cede power to the prince on his wedding day.
Someone pressed a glass of mead into Tem’s hands. She sipped it slowly, losing herself in the bustle of the square. It wasn’t until a hush fell over the crowd that she looked up to see Leo ascending the stage.
He walked straight to the edge, facing the villagers. Behind him stood Lilly, radiant in a green cloak that made her blonde hair even brighter. Next to her was Maximus, whose face was drawn in tight apprehension. Tem could only imagine what he was thinking.
“Thank you all for being here tonight,” Leo said, his voice carrying over the square. “You honor me with your presence.”
To Tem’s surprise, this announcement was not met with applause. Instead, a murmur swept through the crowd—one tinged unmistakably with disapproval. Before Tem could worry about this, Maximus stepped forward too.
“As you all know, the Passing of the Crown is a momentous occasion,” the king began. “It is a tradition that has gone on for centuries, and will go on for many more.”
His speech was long, and Tem found her mind wandering. She thought about Caspen, and how the basilisk traditions were so very different than the human ones. If only all it took for her to be accepted by his people was a simple ceremony like the one she was about to watch.
Then again, were the two traditions really so different?
The Passing of the Crown was also a test of father and son’s relationship. There was no law that said Maximus had to pass the crown. Tem had never heard of a king withholding his blessing from his son, but surely in the long history of the kingdom, it had happened. She couldn’t imagine anything worse for the royals. Tensions were already running high now that the treaty was broken; it would not be wise to present anything other than a united front, especially when the villagers were growing restless. There was a palpable shift in their energy tonight—an underlying ripple of tension that hung in the air like fog. Tem didn’t like the feeling, and for some reason, she feared it.
Her thoughts snapped back to the present as Maximus clapped his hands together sharply. Tem watched as the Lord Chamberlain stepped forward and placed a golden crown on the king’s head. Tem knew this was meant to symbolize the current state of power. Maximus turned to Leo, who knelt at the front of the stage. The crowd fell silent as Maximus raised his hands, touching just his fingertips to the crown.
He hesitated.
Tem remembered how Maximus had criticized Leo for acting childish—how he didn’t trust his instincts. She thought about how he’d spoken to Vera personally, to tell her she was his favorite. Leo’s affiliation with Tem would no doubt give the king pause. But if Maximus didn’t pass the crown, he risked undermining the facade the royals fought so hard to keep intact—the illusion that everything was perfect, that there were no cracks in the foundation. As much as Maximus might want to teach Leo a lesson by not passing the crown, the ramifications of such an act would reverberate far beyond tonight’s events. It would damage the royals’ reputation and sow seeds of doubt on their ability to rule. It would upset the balance.
An eternity passed.
Then, with the same steady control she’d come to expect from the king, Maximus lifted the crown from his own head and set it slowly on Leo’s. For a moment, there was silence.
A voice screamed from the crowd:
“ Justice for Jonathan! ”
Everyone turned collectively toward the source of the cry. Jonathan’s older brother, Jeremy, was standing on a wooden crate with his fist in the air. Tem felt a chill go down her spine at the sight.
“Justice for Jonathan!” he yelled again.
“And for Christopher!” another voice cried.
Tem heard several sounds of approval. The villagers agreed.
She looked back at Leo, who was slowly standing. His eyes held a coolness Tem knew well.
“Such a loss is devastating,” Leo said, his voice firm and clear. “It is unacceptable, and my family mourns with yours. You have my word the snakes will not go unpunished.”
“How?” Jeremy said. “How are you going to punish them?”
Now Leo glanced at his father. Maximus lifted his chin, the motion so subtle it was nearly imperceptible. It was a test, and one Tem dearly hoped the prince would pass. The king was telling his son to take the reins. If Leo was worthy of the crown, he would one day need to navigate situations just like these.
Leo cleared his throat before continuing:
“I understand and share your need for justice. But these matters require lengthy discussion. We will not make any rash decisions.”
“ Fuck your discussions. My brother is dead. We should drive the snakes from their caves!”
The crowd roared. A flicker of fear curled in Tem’s stomach. The villagers were agitated; there was no calming them. The chant began slowly. Tem barely heard it at first. But it built to an unstoppable rhythm, and there was no mistaking the words that grew into a frenzied roar:
“Kill the snakes! Kill the snakes!”
A frown creased Leo’s forehead. He turned once more to his father, who glared at him before stepping forward with undeniable authority. Tem flinched at the look on his face.
“My people,” Maximus cried, raising his hands in solidarity. “I feel your pain.”
But the crowd would not be appeased. They wanted blood.
“ Kill the snakes! Kill the snakes! ”
Even Maximus could not control this. He raised his hands higher, as if to fend off the chants.
“We will ensure that the snakes pay for their sins,” he yelled over the cries of his people. “They will suffer the consequences of their actions.”
But it was not enough. The villagers only grew louder.
Tem understood that they were angry—that a most fundamental part of their livelihood had been offended. The treaty was supposed to protect them—it was supposed to guarantee their safety. If they could not trust the treaty, they could trust nothing. The villagers lived under the protection of the royals. And when that protection failed, what did they need the royals for? It was not a good position for Leo. It was perilous.
Tem was jostled around as the cries of the crowd grew louder. Her eyes met Leo’s and she saw a sudden flash of concern in them—concern not for himself, she realized, but for her. He stepped toward the edge of the stage—toward her. Tem quickly shook her head. If he entered the crowd, he would surely be swarmed. She gave him a look that said: I’m fine.
Leo didn’t seem convinced.
For the first time, Tem feared for the human prince. His jaw was tight, his fists clenched at his sides. He was not immune to danger just because he was the son of the king. It only made him more prone to it. Tem knew she hadn’t imagined the precarious moment of delay when Maximus passed the crown. And now this.
Before she could do anything else, Leo’s eyes widened in fear.
A man was climbing onstage.
The villager lunged immediately in the prince’s direction, his arms outstretched, his mouth an angry slash. Leo raised his hands in defense, but it was Maximus who stepped forward to block the blow.
Tem gasped as another man joined the first.
She could do nothing but watch as the two men advanced on the prince and the king, their hands curled into fists. It was unprecedented: she’d never seen such a blatant display of insurgence. Another figure launched themselves onstage, and this one she recognized: Gabriel. He shoved the first man away from Leo before turning to the second. Members of the royal staff were now running forward as more villagers surged the stage. The crowd screamed, and Tem covered her ears against the sound.
A hand grabbed her arm. It was her mother.
“Come, my dear. It is not safe.”
She was right; it wasn’t safe. The crowd was in a furor, yelling and chanting and throwing things at the royals. Glasses shattered on the cobblestones as people tore down the great golden banners draped across the square. It was madness.
Tem watched as Maximus grabbed Leo by the shoulders and yanked him back toward Lilly, who was standing with her hands over her mouth. Tem’s mother was pulling her in a similar fashion, directing her to the edge of the crowd. The last thing Tem saw was the golden crown on Leo’s blonde head as his father ushered him off the back of the stage.
Tem and her mother hurried along the path home, not stopping for anything. Their little cottage seemed extra quiet after the chaos of the town square, and her mother immediately crossed to the sink and began washing the dishes. Tem knew it was a way to soothe her nerves, and she stood beside her in solidarity, drying dish after dish.
Neither of them spoke.
Tem used the silence to reach for Caspen with her mind. He answered immediately:
What is it, Tem?
I just came from the Passing of the Crown. The villagers are angry—they speak of revolt.
Silence.
Tem continued:
You violated the treaty. They won’t forgive it.
She felt Caspen bristle.
I am not the only one with unforgiven sins.
Tem shook her head.
More people will get hurt if you don’t make things right.
Caspen let out a humorless laugh.
We do not concern ourselves with their kind.
You mean my kind.
A pause. Caspen’s reply was merciless:
I told you there would come a time when you would have to choose.
And if I can’t?
Again, silence. Their connection was still open, but Caspen wasn’t speaking. Tem waited him out, resisting the urge to break the standoff. She would not allow him to avoid this conversation; she would not give in.
Finally, Caspen responded:
Then you may find that your choice is made for you.
Now Tem bristled.
And who will make my choice? You?
I will never control you, Tem.
For the first time, Tem wondered if that were true.
Do you really want war, Caspen?
It does not matter what I want. War has already begun.
Not a yes or a no. Another half-truth. Another lie.
Tem thought of the tension between the quivers—of the way Caspen’s father had come to power. The villagers may be angry now, but the basilisks had been angry for centuries. Peace teetered on a knife’s edge.
Suddenly, a knock came at the door. She set down the towel and opened it.
There stood Leo.
Tem immediately cut off her connection with Caspen. Whatever came next, she was certain he didn’t need to hear it.
“Leo,” she breathed, deeply aware of her mother watching them. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to see you.”
He was still wearing the crown.
“Well that’s…”
Unexpected, is what it was. But there was no point in saying that. Instead, she said:
“Why?”
Leo leaned slightly closer, and Tem’s heart broke into a gallop as she saw a small cut on his cheek. A single drop of blood seeped onto his skin.
“I wanted to make sure you were safe. The crowd…”
Leo didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to. The crowd’s behavior went beyond mere rowdiness—it bordered on rebellion. Tem understood why he would?n’t want to voice such a thought, especially in front of her. She was touched by his presence: it showed he cared.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I was more worried about you.”
Something close to joy flitted across Leo’s face. Then he shrugged.
“My father put me in a carriage. I had it come here.”
There was a pause, and she realized how close they were standing. It was entirely improper; her mother was right there . Yet Leo’s eyes travelled over her body, and she wondered if he was thinking about the last time he’d been here. Tem remembered the way they’d touched each other on her bed—how his cock had been hard against her palm.
“Tem,” he said quietly, and she snapped back to the present. “The ball is soon.”
“I know.”
He shifted closer.
“Will you be there?”
It was an odd question. Tem was one of the final five girls; her attendance was required. She wondered if this was the real reason he’d come—if he needed reassurance that he still had her favor.
“Why would you ask me that?”
Leo raised his hand to touch the bottom of her hair, tracing a strand with his fingertips. He pulled gently on the loose curl before releasing it.
“Because I never know what to expect with you.”
“Well. You can expect me to be there.”
He nodded.
“And what else can I expect?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he tilted his head toward her, and she smelled his cologne. “Will he be there too?”
Tem noticed how Leo didn’t say Caspen’s name, as if saying his name would invite him in.
“The basilisks don’t attend the ball,” she said stiffly.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Tem knew what he meant. He was asking if Caspen was in her mind—if she would bring him, even subconsciously, with her. Tem didn’t know how to answer him.
“He might be,” she said honestly.
Leo’s jaw twitched.
“Very well.”
There was a long moment of silence in which Tem could hear her mother pretending to bustle around the kitchen. It didn’t matter that they weren’t alone. All that mattered was letting Leo know he still had a chance. So she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.
Tem knew she didn’t imagine her mother’s gasp. But she ignored it—and everything else—concentrating only on showing Leo how much he meant to her. He kissed her back without hesitation, his hands shooting forward to yank her against him. His urgency only made her want him more. She clung to him shamelessly, holding his body as tightly as she could against hers. Tem had no idea how long the kiss lasted, but the prince was the one to pull away.
She looked up into his gray eyes, wondering what he was thinking. Tem was so used to her mental connection with Caspen that she wished she could connect in the same way with Leo. But unlike Caspen, Leo never hesitated to be vulnerable with her. So she simply asked:
“What are you thinking about?”
To her relief, he smiled.
“I am thinking about how I wish your mother wasn’t home.”
Tem blushed. She hoped dearly that her mother hadn’t heard that. Leo touched his fingertips to her cheek, as if to wipe away the color. In return, Tem did the same, wiping away the single drop of blood.
“And you, Tem?” he whispered. “What are you thinking about?”
Tem was thinking about all the things that were on the verge of going terribly wrong. But there was no point in voicing any of them. When it came down to it, there was really only one thing she was thinking about:
“You.”
He smiled, baring his golden fangs.
“Finally an answer I like.”
At the sight of his teeth, she grit hers.
The context of their circumstances couldn’t be ignored. Tem would never forget the secret she now knew about the royals: how deep their cruelty truly ran. She had to believe that Leo didn’t know what was in his mouth—that princes were indoctrinated into this horrifying tradition only once they were crowned king.
Tem needed a way to bring the two sides together: a way to protect Leo, and everyone she loved. If Tem had a foothold in basilisk society—if she had some influence in Caspen’s world—she could enact change. Or at the very least, warn Leo of what was to come.
Tem waited until the prince was safely in his carriage and on the way back to the castle before opening the door to Caspen’s mind. She spoke just a single sentence before severing their connection:
I will do the ritual.