Split or Swallow

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

“That’s impossible.”

Even as Tem said it, she recalled the conversation she’d had with her mother mere days ago:

“Why did you leave father?”

“I left him because we could not be together.”

“Why not?”

“His family would not allow it.”

Tem had assumed that meant her father’s family had looked down on their occupation. But now she wondered if it meant that her mother had faced the same obstacles Tem had—the same ritual. Perhaps her basilisk hadn’t been as supportive as Caspen was—perhaps he had cast her out. Or perhaps his quiver hadn’t even given her mother a chance to prove herself the way the Drakons had. Her mother had gone on to be a chicken farmer—to surround herself with roosters, the one thing that would protect her from snakes. She’d done everything she could to ensure she would never get hurt again.

Tem stared straight ahead at Caspen’s chest.

“Are you saying you know my father?” she whispered.

A weighted pause.

“I do not know him personally.”

She looked up at him now.

“But you know who he is?”

Another pause.

“Yes.”

Rage coiled within her.

“Where is he? Is he here? ”

Caspen shook his head.

“No, Tem. He…went missing.”

Tem’s heart nearly stopped. She remembered the memorial—the etched names of the basilisks kept deep beneath the castle—the prisoners who were forced to give their blood so the royals could maintain their riches. She remembered the voice she’d heard in the castle: the one crying for help.

Her father.

“But I’m human, Caspen. Look at me—” Tem gestured at herself, “—I’m human. ”

“You only appear that way, Tem.”

She gestured at him.

“ You appear that way too.”

“My human form is simply an illusion. It does not mean I am part human.”

Tem burrowed her face in her hands. It was all too much. She couldn’t imagine herself as anything other than human.

Or could she?

Tem had always felt out of place—like she was wearing the wrong clothes. She’d always hated the farm, always loathed the sound of the roosters. It grated against her on a molecular level—on an instinctual level. She’d always wanted something else from her life—something more. But she’d never expected this.

She looked up at Caspen, and her resolve hardened.

“You knew.”

Caspen shook his head. “I only suspected.”

“At first, maybe. But eventually, you knew. And you didn’t tell me.”

“I am telling you now.”

“ That’s not good enough. ”

Tem stepped back. She couldn’t bear to look at him. She was so sick of his evasions—his half truths—his twisted efforts to keep her in the dark. Tem was always the last to know. Even this most important, fundamental thing about herself—she’d had no idea. She was the last to be kissed, the last to be fucked. Do you know your own anatomy? Caspen had asked her once. Not at all, it would seem.

“How long have you known, Caspen?”

He didn’t answer.

“How. Long.”

The pause went on forever. Finally Caspen reached for her hands, turning them over so her freckles caught the firelight.

“This is a distinct feature,” he whispered. “Even amongst basilisks. It was no coincidence that you, a human, had such a rare thing. Your father has the same ones. That is when I suspected you were a Hybreed.”

Hybreed . Half human, half basilisk.

Tem had heard the stories just like everyone else—that such a creature existed. But they were stories: nothing more. Hybreeds were not supposed to be real. They were not supposed to be her.

“When I spoke to you using my mind, that is when I knew for sure,” Caspen finished quietly. “Only basilisks can communicate with one another that way.”

Tem stared down at her freckled palms. There was a pattern to them, she realized suddenly. All these years and she’d never noticed that she had exactly twelve freckles on each palm—evenly split—with three freckles beneath each finger except her thumbs.

Tem shook her head. She pulled her hands from his grasp.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because I did not want to frighten you.”

“Right,” she spat. “Because we both know I am so easily frightened.”

“Tem—” he reached for her again but she smacked his hands away.

“ Don’t .”

There was silence as they stared at each other, and Tem felt anger—true, unstoppable rage—begin to flow through her. Her chest was tight; it was becoming difficult to breathe. She fought to stay calm, asking her next question with her fists clenched:

“Why would you make me do the ritual if I’m not even human?”

“I did not make you—”

“ You know what I mean. ”

Caspen’s face was drawn. It pained him to see her like this. But Tem didn’t care.

“Only humans are subjected to the ritual. Nobody would suspect you were anything else.”

To her surprise, his response satisfied her. What better way to convince everyone she was a human than to put her through a ritual that only humans were subjected to? But she still didn’t understand why he’d done it.

“Why would you want everyone to think I’m human?”

“To protect you, Tem.”

“From what?”

“ Everything ,” he brandished his arms wide. “My father. My world. My quiver. If they find out you are a Hybreed, they will—”

But he cut himself off. Now it was Caspen’s turn to take a moment to compose himself. Tem waited impatiently for him to continue. When he did, his voice was low:

“I was a fool, Tem,” he stepped closer. “I thought I could protect you, but I have made things incomparably worse.”

Tem frowned.

“How?”

“My father accessed your mind during the ritual. He knows what you are.”

Tem remembered how Bastian had told her to finish first. She thought of the moment afterward, between father and son—how Caspen had said: I will not allow it.

“Caspen,” she said with conviction. “What does your father want with me?”

Caspen closed his eyes. For once, Tem didn’t rush him. Somehow she knew that they had arrived, finally, at the last piece of the puzzle. She was about to get the truth.

When he opened his eyes, Tem saw unmistakable fear in them. It matched the fear she’d seen in his mind—the dark cloud of worry surrounding his thoughts of her.

“He wants you to crest the royal family.”

Tem’s mouth fell open.

“Usually contact is required for the crest ,” Caspen continued quickly, his voice low and strained. “But your power is unique. Hybreeds can crest many people at once, without touching them at all. You simply need an opportunity where all the royals will be gathered together.”

Tem felt lightheaded.

“The wedding,” she whispered.

Her wedding.

Caspen nodded.

“Once you crest them, they will lose their free will. They will be vulnerable. My people would immediately take over.”

Tem narrowed her eyes.

“Was this your plan all along?” she asked. “For the prince to pick me so I could crest his entire family?”

“Of course not. I never wanted this for you.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“I cannot lie, Tem.”

“Yes you can. You twist the truth all the time. How do I know you aren’t doing it now?”

“What do you wish for me to say? You are precious to me, Tem,” his voice almost broke. “I do not want anything to happen to you. My father is the last person I would want to find out what you are. He is the cruelest man I know.”

“And yet you were willing to kill for him.”

Caspen went perfectly still.

“That was a long time ago. And it is my deepest regret. You know this.”

But Tem only shook her head, struggling to grasp her new reality—a reality in which she couldn’t trust Caspen.

“I don’t know anything anymore.”

They stared at each other in the flickering firelight, the only sound the crackle of the flames.Something had broken between them—something vital. Tem didn’t know where they stood after this. She didn’t know how to navigate a world where Caspen lied to her.

“This plan has been in place for centuries, Tem,” Caspen said quietly. “My father knew that eventually the training would result in a pregnancy. Even if it took years, he was willing to wait for it.”

Cold, slick doubt coated her throat.

“Is this why your father gave me his blessing? So I could perform the crest? ”

To her surprise, Caspen shook his head.

“No. The ritual is sacred—it is sanctioned by Kora. He cannot wield his blessing as a weapon in our war.”

Tem didn’t know what to believe anymore. Caspen seemed to sense this because he continued:

“It was not in his best interest to approve of you, Tem. The closer you are to me, the harder it is for him to manipulate you. He honored the outcome of the ritual. You earned his blessing, I promise you.”

His words didn’t make Tem feel any better. She didn’t know if she believed him, or if she even cared. Perhaps it didn’t matter whether she’d truly earned the king’s blessing or not. All that mattered was what she’d just learned—that Bastian had plans for her—that she was meant to help the basilisks regain power.

“Do you want me to crest the royals?” she whispered.

“ No ,” Caspen said sharply. “I do not.”

“Why not?” Tem said accusingly. “Don’t you want your people to take over?”

He paused.

“I do wish for that,” the pause lingered a moment too long. “But it is dangerous for you to crest so many people at once.”

“I thought you said the crest was a way to gain power.”

“It is. But you have no experience wielding such power. There is no telling how it would affect you.”

Anger, betrayal, and anguish rippled through her. She was done talking about this.

“I’m going home.”

“Tem,” he said carefully. “We should—”

“I’m going home , Caspen.”

Tem couldn’t stand to be in his chambers another moment. She brushed past him without another word, ignoring the way he called her name after her, closing the barrier between their minds as she sprinted down the dark passageway. The cold morning air snapped in Tem’s lungs as she emerged from the cave and ran through the woods, not stopping until she reached her front door.

“ Mother ,” she cried as she barged into the kitchen.

Her mother looked up from her sewing in surprise.

“What is it, dear?”

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

For a moment, her mother was perfectly still. Then she set down her needles and interlaced her fingers in her lap, looking calmly up at Tem. From the look on her face, it was clear she knew the moment of reckoning had come.

“I did not want you to feel different than anyone else,” her mother conceded.

Tem scoffed.

“It is far too late for that, Mother.”

Her mother didn’t want her to feel different than anyone else; Caspen didn’t want to frighten her. These were mere excuses, nothing more.

“It would have been dangerous if you knew,” her mother continued just as calmly, as if she’d been rehearsing her response for years. “The villagers would not have been kind.”

“They were not kind anyway,” Tem cried.

“Please, my dear. Try to understand.”

But Tem only shook her head. She held out her hands accusingly, brandishing her freckled palms.

“I deserved to know.”

Her mother didn’t respond.

Tem paced back and forth in the kitchen, trying to control her anger. It was unforgivable that she had been treated with such disrespect. This was her identity—her very being . To have so many people know her most intimate secret while not knowing it herself was nothing short of a violation. If she could not trust her own mother, who could she turn to?

She stopped pacing.

“I am going to Gabriel’s.”

Her mother’s eyebrows shot upward.

“You cannot tell that boy, Tem. Nobody can know.”

“Gabriel is trustworthy,” she said sharply, although she didn’t know whether anyone was trustworthy anymore. “And he is my friend.”

“Tem—you—”

But Tem was already out the door. Contrary to what she’d just said, she was not going to Gabriel’s. It was early; he was probably still asleep. Instead she would go to the place where she knew she would find the one person who was unequivocally on her side.

I…still come here most mornings. Just in case.

The church wasn’t far. By the time she reached it, the sun was rising in earnest, and Tem feared she would be too late. But when she started on the path through the graveyard, she saw a lone figure sitting on the bench on the hill.

Leo looked up in surprise as she approached.

“Tem?” his brows furrowed in concern as he stood. “What are you doing here?”

It was then that Tem realized she had no plan whatsoever. She couldn’t tell Leo she was a Hybreed. She couldn’t tell him about the ritual, about the Serpent King’s plan for the royal wedding, about the basilisks who were being tortured for their blood deep beneath the castle. There wasn’t a single thing she could say to him other than the truth:

“I wanted to see you.”

A curious expression came over Leo’s face. When he didn’t reply, Tem became suddenly aware that she had barged in on the prince’s private moment—that the only reason he was here was because he was hoping a different girl would show up.

Tem took a step backward.

“I’m sorry—” she said quickly, “—I shouldn’t have—”

“Yes,” he grabbed her hand. “You should have.”

Tem stared at his hand, his long fingers interlacing with her freckled ones.

“Spend the day with me,” Leo said.

Tem let out an incredulous laugh.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to?”

“My duties can wait.”

She was still standing two steps away, their hands clasped between them.

“Leo…”

He stepped closer, pulling her against him.

She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of his cologne. For the first time in a long time, she felt peace. Tentatively, she rested her head against his chest.

“Tem,” Leo whispered. “What’s wrong?”

Tem had no idea how to answer that. She was exhausted—she’d been up all night, and her body, as well as her mind, were utterly spent.

“I don’t know, Leo,” she said quietly. “I…”

But she couldn’t go on.

Leo tightened his hold.

“Did that brute break your heart or something?”he murmured against her hair.

He sounded sad, somehow, although Tem couldn’t imagine why.

“Nearly,” she murmured back.

Leo pulled away, taking both her hands once more in his.

“Spend the day with me,” he said again. “Come to the castle. No one will bother us.”

Tem shook her head.

“I can’t.”

Leo pulled her closer.

“You can’t? Or you won’t?”

Tem knew what he was really asking. Her spot in the final three was all but guaranteed. If she spent the day with Leo, it wouldn’t be because of the competition. It would be because she wanted to.Tem felt the familiar stubbornness inside her—the refusal to give in.

Then Leo said:

“It’s your choice, Tem.”

Her choice. Something Caspen and her mother refused to give her.

Tem looked up at Leo, who was looking down at her. She studied the narrow angles of his face, the sharp gray eyes that were constantly calculating his next move, even now.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Leo’s body conformed to hers as naturally as moss on a tree. His agile fingers slipped into her hair, tangling in her curls. He was warm and strong and hard , and Tem found she only wanted more.

“Is that a yes?” he whispered when they pulled apart.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “As long as you don’t draw a bath.”

Leo’s mouth twitched, but his expression remained serious, as if he knew this was a difficult decision for her. But there was victory beneath his restraint, and his grip on her tightened as he pulled her along the path and into a carriage waiting at the edge of the graveyard.

Neither of them spoke on the ride.

Tem leaned against Leo, letting her body rest for the first time in far too long. When they arrived at the castle, the prince guided her down a hallway lined with elegant sconces. They passed an enormous painting at the base of a staircase, and Tem stopped to stare at it.

There was Leo, looking deeply serious, sitting on a velvet armchair. Maximus was behind him, his hand on Leo’s shoulder, matching gold cuffs glinting on their wrists.

“Father and son,” Leo said quietly.

The familiar pinch in Tem’s stomach returned.

Leo’s arm tightened around her, pulling her along. She let him move her, following him up the stairs and down a long carpeted hallway to a door at the very end.

He pushed it open.

Leo’s room was enormous, as expected. There was a four poster bed on one end and a fireplace on the other, the walls in between lined with overstuffed bookshelves.

“Would you like something to eat?” he asked.“I usually take breakfast around now.”

It was then that Tem realized she was starving.

“Yes.”

“And to drink?”

“Anything but champagne.”

Leo smiled as he pulled a tasseled rope on the wall. A moment later there was a knock on the door, and a servant appeared. His eyes swiveled to Tem’s before latching back onto Leo. They exchanged a few words before Leo shut the door.

“I’m afraid everyone will know you are here,” he said with an amused smile. “That was one of our more talkative servants.”

Tem shrugged. It didn’t matter who knew she was here. All that mattered was that she was away from her life in the village.

Despite her desire to be here, now that she was actually in Leo’s room, Tem found herself in a state of mild panic.What if he expected her to sleep with him? Surely, the prince assumed her presence meant she was ready and willing to jump into his bed. But Tem had no desire to have sex right now. The ritual had drained all her energy, and the last thing she wanted was another cock between her legs.

Leo seemed to sense this, because he said:

“I don’t expect anything from you, Tem.”

She shot him a look.

“But you want something.”

He held her gaze.

“All I want is your company.”

When she didn’t reply, he touched her waist gently.

“I understand that you are seeking refuge. I have no desire to take advantage of you when you came here for shelter.”

Tem stared at the floor. She wasn’t even sure she deserved his shelter at this point.

Leo finished quietly:

“I’m a man of my word, Tem. Whether you believe me to be or not.”

Tem didn’t know what she believed.

Then she shivered. Leo’s room was freezing. He saw this and immediately said:

“I shall make a fire.”

Tem took the opportunity to look around his room, peering curiously at the bookshelf. It was crammed full of books in varying languages, so many that the shelves were bending beneath their weight.

Tem turned to his bed, which was meticulously made. She very much doubted Leo was the one who made it. His bed frame was intricately carved wood, and on the closest bedside table were stacks of books topped by white candles. The candles had burned so low that the wax was dripping down over the spines of the books, pooling in hard circles on the wood.

“Do you like to read?” she heard Leo’s voice behind her. Tem turned to see him leaning against the fireplace, watching her.

“Not really,” she said. “I mean—I would, if I had time. Or books. But no, not really.”

He nodded at the chairs in front of the fireplace.

“Shall we sit?”

Leo waited until Tem sat before sitting himself. There was a moment of silence while they stared at the fire.

“Do you have a favorite?” Tem asked eventually.

Leo arched an eyebrow.

“A favorite book?”

Tem nodded.

“I’m not sure,” he paused. “It changes day to day.”

“So what’s your favorite today?”

Another pause. Then:

“ The Raven and the Swan .”

Tem knew that one. Everyone did; it was an old fable about a raven that want?ed to become a swan. But no matter what the raven did—including swimming in the swan’s pond and eating the swan’s food—it remained a raven. It couldn’t change its true nature.

“Why?”

Leo shifted in his chair, crossing one long leg over the other.

“The raven wants more from its life.”

“And you relate to that?”

His mouth twitched.

“Somewhat.”

Tem rolled her eyes.

“Your life seems pretty good to me, Leo.”

“That’s because you’re looking at it from the outside, Tem.”

He said it softly, his eyes on the fire.

“You have everything,” she shrugged. “What else could you possibly want?”

He didn’t reply for a long time.

When he did, Tem barely heard the word:

“Agency.”

“You have agency.”

“It may seem that way to you. But my hands are tied in every way that matters. I can’t choose what I do, where I go, who I date. Everything is decided for me.”

“You have a roof over your head. You have food and books and a fireplace in your bedroom, for Kora’s sake. And by the way, you are choosing who you date. Right now, actually. Are you really telling me you’re unhappy?”

Leo looked at her, his eyes hooded.

“Yes. I’m afraid I am.”

Tem stared at him, trying to understand.

She, of all people, knew what it was like to truly have no agency. Her path had been decided for her the moment she was born in the same year as the prince, the daughter of a single mother with nothing but chicken shit to go home to. Leo had no idea what it was like to have everything decided for him. He was the son of a king, with more power than he knew how to wield, straining against a self-imposed cage.

“Do you not believe me?” Leo asked.

Tem sighed.

“If you say you’re unhappy, I believe you. But you have more power than you think you do.”

“And how shall I wield that power?”

“I don’t know, Leo. Do something—anything. Think about someone other than yourself.”

“I think about you.”

She ignored the compliment, leaning in.

“Think about your family. Think about what they’ve done.”

Leo frowned.

“And what has my family done?”

Tem shouldn’t have said that. Before she could figure out how to answer, there was another knock on the door. Leo’s eyes lingered on hers for just a moment before he said:

“Come in.”

Tem stared at the fire as the same servant from before set a tray of food down and left without a word. Neither of them touched the food. Leo leaned in.

“What has my family done, Tem?”

He said it like a plea. His voice was curious—apprehensive, even. As if he were afraid to hear the answer. Tem decided in that moment that he didn’t know about the bloodletting. He couldn’t. Leo would never condone such cruelty.

But she also couldn’t imagine telling him.

What, exactly, would she even say? That there were imprisoned basilisks—including her own father—beneath their feet? That everything Leo owned was paid for in blood? Tem thought about the portrait of Leo and Maximus, both wearing matching gold cuffs.

Like father, like son.

Even if he had no knowledge of the bloodletting, Tem had no idea whether she could trust Leo. If the last twenty four hours were any indication, she couldn’t trust anyone. She knew Leo was angry at Maximus for how he’d treated Evelyn, and for how he was already beginning to treat Tem. But was he angry enough to condemn his father’s crimes? There were so many secrets—so many things Leo didn’t know, and none of them would be easy for him to hear. She didn’t want to keep things from him the same way so many things had been kept from her.

All journeys begin with a step.

But it was too soon. Leo may be angry with his father, but Tem very much doubted he was ready to discover the atrocities happening within his own home. Not when he had been raised his entire life to believe that basilisks were the enemy.

The truth would have to wait another day.

“You said it yourself,” Tem shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. “Your family controls you. You could stand up to your father if that’s really what you wanted.”

Leo tilted his head, appraising her. She wondered if he could tell she’d wanted to say something else.

“And how would you suggest I stand up to him?”

“By making your own choices.”

Her suggestion hung in the air. She didn’t elaborate, and Leo didn’t ask her to. He was still staring at her when Caspen entered her mind:

Tem. My quiver has made their decision.