Split or Swallow

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

There was no time to push him away.

Tem froze as Leo’s fingers found her center, brushing against the tip of the claw. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What…?” Leo started, but didn’t finish. He pressed on the claw, pushing it against her clitoris. Despite herself, a tiny moan escaped the back of Tem’s throat.

Leo pulled away.

“What the fuck is that, Tem?”

“It’s…”

But there was no good way to explain it. And even if there were, Tem could tell by the look on Leo’s face that although he might not know exactly what the claw was for, he knew it had something to do with Caspen. His next words confirmed it:

“It’s from him, isn’t it?”

Tem nodded because there was nothing else to do.

“What is its purpose?”

Tem shook her head.

“ What is its purpose, Tem? ”

“Leo, please—”

But Leo was already sliding his fingers inside her. He hooked them around the curve of the claw before yanking it out roughly and holding it up between them. For a moment, they both stared at Tem’s wetness glistening in the moonlight. An unfathomable anger passed over Leo’s face. He turned, throwing the claw as hard as he could down the dark passage of the maze.

“ No! ” Tem cried.

But he was already turning back to her, his fingers filling the space where the claw had just been, driving into her so quickly that her head arched back with a gasp.

Leo’s other hand went to her throat, his eyes narrowing as he yanked her face to his.

“He may have made you wet, but I will make you come.”

Tem couldn’t have protested if she wanted to. Leo’s fingers were already sliding in and out with expert precision, persuading her body to relinquish control. A moment later he was on his knees, and for the second time, Tem knew what it was to have a prince kneel before her.

Tem moaned as Leo’s mouth met her wetness, the words he’d written on the invitation running wildly through her mind:

Next time I get to torture you.

If this was torture, Tem was happy to die from it.

Leo knew exactly what to do. He licked her with confident, targeted strokes, his tongue diving deep into her center before rolling against her clitoris. Tem gripped his hair with both hands, holding him against her so everything he did was amplified tenfold—so she didn’t miss a single second of this ravishment.

He was consuming her— devouring her—gorging himself on her until she could?n’t form a single thought.

“Leo,” she moaned over and over again. “ Leo .”

She understood he was reprimanding her—forcing her to remember how good he could make her feel. This was the dynamic between them, their endless battle. Now it was Leo’s turn to hold the power, and it was Tem’s turn to yield.

His fingers joined his tongue, and for a moment, Tem saw stars.

Leo was unrelenting, even as her grip tightened in his hair—even as she whimpered his name helplessly. Caspen had already been turning her on for hours; Tem was beyond close. But it wasn’t until Leo sucked her clitoris suddenly between his teeth that her hips bucked and she came with a yelp, finally releasing the pent-up heat that had been building in her all day long.

The second she cried out, Leo stood. He yanked her dress down without a word and stalked back into the maze.

“Leo wait— ” Tem leaped from the statue, barely catching her breath as she ran after him, “—this is a maze. You can’t just leave me—”

Leo whirled around, his eyes flashing in the darkness.

“I can do whatever I damn well please, Tem. That’s what you do, after all.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

“You know I can’t control him, Leo. He—”

“You can control what you put in your own body, Tem .”

He turned again, and Tem had to run to keep up with him.

“It doesn’t matter what I put in my body—he’s in my mind—he’ll always be there.”

Leo shook his head.

“This cannot go on.”

They had come to it at last: the moment when Leo’s patience ran out.

“What do you suggest I do?”

“I suggest you shut him out.”

“I can’t .”

“Can’t you? Or do you just not want to?”

Tem stopped, suddenly hurt. Leo knew very well how difficult this was for her—how much she hated the position she was in. If she could make it easier for herself—and for him—she would. But her bond with Caspen wasn’t something she could just shut off. Nor did she want to. It was far more complicated than anything Leo could comprehend, and there was no possible way to explain it to him.

“You said you didn’t mind,” she whispered. “You said you would take what you could get.”

Leo stopped too, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“I know what I said, Tem,” he growled, turning to face her. “But I want more. I want all of you. Anything less than everything isn’t enough anymore.”

“Why?” Tem asked, betrayal pinching her chest. “What changed?”

He shook his head.

“That’s the fucking problem, Tem. Nothing’s changed.”

She stared at him in disbelief, tears in her eyes.

Leo leaned in, and she craned her neck to look up at him.

“I want all of you,” he said deliberately. “Or I don’t want you at all.”

They stared at each other, both breathing hard. Then Leo turned once more, and Tem stayed two steps behind him all the way back through the maze.

When they reached the castle, Leo whirled around one last time.

“And to answer your question,” he snapped. “Yes. You’re in the final three. Whether you want to be or not.”

He swept away, leaving Tem alone on the edge of the ballroom. Leo’s message was clear: he was punishing her for her connection with Caspen. He knew it was difficult for her to love them both—even more difficult when Leo presented himself as a viable option. It would be cruel to eliminate her—crueler still to keep her in the competition. He would force Tem to choose: to tear herself in two.

Torture indeed.

Tem found the closest glass of whiskey and threw it down her throat. She wished she could simply leave. But where to go? She couldn’t go back to the caves. She couldn’t go back to the farm. There was no place for Tem—no shelter from the storm. Her only option was to take another whiskey and slip into the crowd, losing herself amongst the guests until eventually she was drunk. At one point Gabriel found her, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before disappearing back into the kitchen with a wave of his bandaged hand. She barely noticed him. Instead Tem watched as several footmen assembled the podiums, placing them at the end of the ballroom. There were only three. Tem remembered when there were eleven.

A sharp clink clink clink rang out and Tem turned to see Maximus tapping a knife on a wine glass.

“Thank you all for being here tonight,” he began, his shrewd gray eyes appraising the crowd. “My family is grateful for your support.”

Beside him, Leo scowled.

“Would the five remaining ladies kindly step forward?”

Tem took one last gulp of whiskey before following the other girls to the podiums. They stood in a single file line, the way they always did, facing the prince. Maximus was still talking:

“The time has come for my son to make an important decision. The three young ladies he chooses tonight will reside in the castle for the remainder of the elimination process. When he is ready, my son will choose a wife.”

Beside Tem, Vera puffed out her chest. Maximus continued:

“The next time we gather, it will be for a wedding.”

Dread darkened Tem’s vision. The whiskey wasn’t helping anymore.

Leo stepped forward, and the elimination began.

Instead of approaching the girls like he had in the past, Leo had them come to him. He extended his hand to the girl on Tem’s right, and the crowd cheered as she walked forward, took his hand, and stepped onto the second podium. Tem did?n’t know the girl’s name, and she didn’t care to. She only knew the name of the girl Leo would pick next:

Vera.

Maximus’s mouth twitched into a smile as Vera took Leo’s hand and mounted the first podium. The crowd cheered even louder.

Tem stood between the last two girls, wondering if they already knew they were out. She straightened her shoulders. Leo didn’t even extend his hand to her. He merely looked Tem in the eye before jerking his head at the third podium, directing her like a dog learning a trick.

Last again.

Tem didn’t need to look at Maximus to feel the fury radiating off of him as she walked forward to claim her podium. She stood there proudly, just as she always had, refusing to let anyone here make her feel like she was worth any less than the girls who stood beside her.

Vera was positively beaming; Tem could feel her condescending smile even from here.

Leo looked only at Tem.

There was such jealousy in his eyes. Such anger. The time for allowances had clearly passed; the prince was done giving Tem a break simply because he wanted her.

The time will come when you will have to choose.

Leo’s future would be easier if he chose Vera. She was the village favorite, and his father’s favorite too. If Tem wanted him to choose her—and if she wanted to save his life—she had to give him a reason to do so.

Someone touched Tem’s hand—a servant helping her down from the podium. Tem followed the other two girls out of the ballroom and up a flight of stairs. They were headed to Leo’s floor. Tem recognized the towering portrait of father and son as she ascended the stairs. When they reached the landing, the servant directed each of the girls to their rooms. Tem’s room was at the very end of the hallway, furthest from Leo’s.

“Can I get you anything, miss?”

Tem blinked.

She wanted many things: for Caspen to apologize, for Leo to understand her circumstances. But she couldn’t have either of those.

So she said:

“Whiskey.”

The servant nodded, and disappeared.

Tem stood alone, staring at the bed in front of her.

It had all happened so fast. One moment she’d been attending a ball, and now she was sequestered in the castle, doomed to wait until someone else decided her future for her.

She couldn’t stand it. She needed to talk to Leo.

Tem opened her door and stepped out into the hallway, ready to find him. To her surprise, he was already there, leaning against the doorframe of the room right next to hers.

He wasn’t alone.

Vera was giggling, pushing her breasts together as Leo twirled a lock of her hair around his fingertips, the same way he twirled Tem’s. His eyes slid to hers. For an endless moment, they looked at each other. Then Leo cocked a single, cruel eyebrow. His hand found Vera’s waist, pulling her down the hallway toward his bedroom. The last thing Tem saw before the door closed were Leo’s fingers unlacing the back of her dress.

Tem was no stranger to lonely nights, but this was one of the worst.

The claw was gone, lost in the maze. Caspen was utterly absent from her mind, the emptiness so glaring and foreign she could barely stand it. Tem didn’t dare reach for him. She didn’t know what she would even say. He knew she was in the castle; he knew the prince had chosen her.

And then there was Leo.

Tem would never forget the look on his face as he pulled Vera into his bedroom. She kept picturing his long fingers unlacing Vera’s dress—fingers that were inside Tem just an hour ago. No doubt they were already having sex in Leo’s four poster bed. Vera would do anything he asked—endlessly eager to please the prince. The thought made Tem want to cry, and she climbed into her bed, pulling the unfamiliar blankets tightly around her. Her room was cold, but she didn’t make a fire. She simply stared at the ceiling, thinking about how just this morning she’d stared at the ceiling of her childhood bedroom—the ceiling she’d wished so many times never to see again. Now there was nothing she wanted to see more. Eventually her whiskey arrived, and Tem drank it in one gulp.

When she fell asleep, her dreams were filled with ice.

. . .

The whiskey had not been kind to her.

Tem woke with a groan, massaging her temples in an attempt to alleviate her pounding headache. Her first thought was of Leo. She pictured him waking up next to Vera, their naked bodies intertwined, their lips touching.

The visual was enough to bring the whiskey right back up.

When Tem was done in the bathroom, she crossed to the closet, opening it to find a row of dresses in her size. She pulled on the closest one before placing her hand on her bedroom door and pausing. What to do next? Tem could think of only one thing, and it was undoubtedly dangerous. But she was here, in the castle, and she would use the situation to her advantage even if it meant taking a risk.

She knew about this part of the competition from school: the girls were given free reign of the castle, and expected to spend time with the prince if he requested it. He would bed them as he saw fit. There were no rules regarding the speed or timing of the final eliminations: sometimes the girls were in the castle for days, sometimes for months. Leo was in charge now, and he would choose his wife when he was ready.

Tem stood at the door, still hesitating.

She had no desire to open this door if it meant seeing Vera emerging from Leo’s room, her hair messy from sex, her eyes glazed over after a night of lovemaking.

Yet she had to open it.

The hallway was mercifully empty; perhaps Leo wasn’t even awake yet. Tem descended the stairs to the ground level, her bare feet brushing against the gold-flaked tiles in the foyer. She stood there for a moment, listening to the sounds of the castle. A distant bout of laughter came from the kitchen, and Tem knew the staff was preparing breakfast. She took a moment to close her eyes, focusing her energy on a single word:

Caspen.

He answered immediately:

Tem.

I want to see my father.

She said nothing of the elimination process—mentioned no part of what had happened last night in the maze. Caspen sensed her evasion, but didn’t address it. Instead, he replied:

That is not a good idea.

Why not?

Someone may see you.

Tem was having trouble hearing him; it was as if they were talking through a wall.

It’s early. No one is around.

It is not safe.

I’m not asking permission, Caspen.

He bristled. Some small part of her enjoyed his distress.

Then what are you asking, Tem?

Do you know where he’s being kept?

No. I do not.

Haven’t you asked him? Or any of the basilisks who were imprisoned here?

Bloodletting weakens basilisks. They cannot use their minds as we can.

Tem thought about how her conversations with her father were always brief—a few words at most—before his voice faded.

Fine. I’ll ask him myself.

She sensed his disapproval.

You need to be careful, Tem.

I will be.

You should—

But his voice cut off abruptly.

Caspen? Are you there?

No response.

Tem shook her head as if to clear it. She would worry about their connection later. Caspen wasn’t the basilisk she needed to talk to anyway.

Tem concentrated again, feeling for another presence nearby. When she found it, she wasted no time:

Where are you?

She stood in bated silence, awaiting an answer. His response was barely a whisper.

Below.

Tem pursed her lips as that connection faded too. It was their shortest conversation yet, and it wasn’t much to go on. But it wasn’t a stretch to guess what “below” meant. Surely, there would be dungeons in the castle—places where the royals kept traitors during the war. And where they kept basilisks after the war.

Tem slipped through the castle, searching for the first stairway that headed down. When she found it, she took it quickly, walking on the pads of her feet so she didn’t make a sound. She was already rehearsing a story in her mind in case anyone found her: she would say she was looking for the kitchen—that she was hungry after a night of drinking at the ball. It was only half a lie: her stomach growled as she descended the endless staircase.

Eventually, the temperature began to drop.

Tem passed doorway after doorway, ignoring them all. The dungeons would be deep beneath the castle—lower than anything else—far away from anywhere a servant might stumble upon them accidentally. She walked for what felt like forev?er. But eventually, she came upon a metal door.

Tem knew immediately from the smell of the air that she had arrived.

Death and decay clung to her nostrils as she groped through the darkness for the door handle. It wasn’t even locked. There wasn’t a guard in sight—not a single person watching over the entrance to a long row of dark, hopeless cells. At first Tem was shocked by the lack of security. But the moment she saw what was in the first cell, she understood why there were no guards down here. There was no need for security when the prisoners were this weak.

A woman basilisk wearing her human form was shackled to the stone floor. There was nothing else in the cell—not even a cot. A complicated tangle of metal wires was fused to the basilisk’s fingers, trailing up into a hole in the ceiling. Tem had no idea what their function was—only that they must be part of the bloodletting process. Even now, she could see the color of the wires change from silver to gold, pulsing intermittently as the basilisk’s face twisted in pain. Tem’s heart broke at the sight of someone—someone like her —being treated like this. It was abhorrent.

All the cells were filled.

Tem couldn’t explain it, but she knew which cell contained her father. It was as if she were drawn to him by the invisible connection that had brought him into her mind in the first place. Tem followed their connection down the row of cells until she reached the very last one, stopping in front of it and squinting into the darkness.

There he was at last.

Even slumped against the rough stone wall, Tem could see her father’s beauty. His shoulders were broad, his eyes burnished gold. But unlike the gleaming, molten brightness of Caspen’s irises, her father’s eyes were dull—almost closer in color to copper, and Tem wondered if it was an effect of the bloodletting. He was tall, just like all basilisks, but stooped beneath the weight of years of torture. Her heart called out:

Father.

It was strange to say that word to him. Tem had no memory of this man—by the time she was born, he was already gone. But now she studied his face, and despite the dim lighting, she saw their resemblance. He had hair just like hers: it was lank now, but Tem recognized the same curls that also framed her face. His hands were resting palm-up in his lap, silver wires fused to his fingers. Even in the darkness, Tem could count twenty four freckles on his hands. Twelve on each side.

Her father opened his eyes. They stared at each other.

What is your name, child?

Tem’s heart performed a mournful swoop. He didn’t even know her name.

Temperance.

She couldn’t be sure, but she swore he smiled.

What is your name?

Her mother had never told her.

Kronos.

“Kronos,” she whispered it aloud, imagining a world in which she’d grown up saying it. Her father tilted his head.

You should not be here, Temperance.

She stepped closer.

I had to see you.

It is not safe.

It was Caspen all over again. Tem shook her head, hooking her fingers through the bars of the cell.

I’m going to get you out. You just need to hold on until the wedding.

Her father closed his eyes.

It is too late for me.

Tem could see how weak he was—how perilous of a toll the bloodletting had taken on him.

Wait—please. I need to know— w hich king can’t I trust?

He took a long time to answer. But finally:

Ours.

Bastian.

But why?

Her father took a deep breath, and the shackles bolting him to the floor clinked softly.

He values power above all else.

Most kings do.

Kronos shook his head, the motion clearly paining him.

Power corrupts.

It was all he said. Tem thought about what Bastian had already done to gain his power—what he had asked Caspen to do. Power did corrupt. It was crookedly tempting and cruel. It turned men into monsters, or perhaps monsters into men. Which was worse? Tem didn’t know anymore.

Kronos spoke again:

You have lingered too long. Go.

Tem’s grip tightened on the bars.

I don’t want to leave you.

Go, child. And do not return.

Tem knew he was right. She’d been down here far too long already—Leo could be awake by now. If he noticed her absence, it would only anger him further.

She dropped her hands reluctantly, taking one last look at her father.

I’ll come back for you. I promise. Just hold on. Please.

He didn’t reply.

There was nothing else to say. Tem retraced her steps out of the dungeon until she reached the stairs that led back up to the castle. She ascended them as quickly as she could and by the time she got to the main floor, her calves were screaming in protest. She was just crossing through the foyer when the parlor door opened and the last person she wanted to see emerged.

“Temperance,” Maximus said slowly, his calculating eyes flicking to her bare feet. “What brings you out of bed at such an early hour?”

The question was casual. The implication was not.

Tem sensed immediately that Maximus knew she’d been searching for things he didn’t want her to find. When she didn’t answer, the king stepped closer.

“Does my son know you’re sneaking around his home?”

Tem threw a question right back at him:

“Does your son know what goes on in his home?”

Maximus paused, his eyes narrowing.

“I do not know of what you speak.”

A lie. There was only one secret she could be referring to—one horrible, abominable thing the royals kept to themselves.

Tem stepped closer too, looking defiantly up at him as she asked again:

“Does Leo know?”

Maximus stared down at her. She could almost see the gears turning in his brain, deciding how to react. When he spoke, it was through gritted teeth:

“He will learn when he becomes king.”

At last, Tem had confirmation that Leo was innocent. She crossed her arms.

“And how do you think he’ll react?”

“He will understand he must do what is necessary to protect the balance of our kingdom.”

“ Torture is necessary?”

“I already told you, Temperance,” Maximus said as if she were a child. “The basilisks provide a service. Their place is beneath us.”

Tem hadn’t realized when he’d said those words to her all those weeks ago that he’d meant them literally.

“You would do well to remember your place,” he continued. “Or you may find it is decided for you.”

You may find that your choice is made for you.

Tem raised her chin.

“I decide my place. And as of now, it is right here. In this castle. With your son.”

Maximus’s nostrils flared. He leaned in, and Tem smelled cigars on his skin.

“You will never have him.”

She looked straight at him as she said:

“He told me he intends to marry me.”

The lie came easily, and as soon as she said it, rage flitted across Maximus’s face.

“That will not happen as long as I am alive.”

“You can’t stop us.”

“Can’t I?” Maximus leaned in too. “Do you think you are the first unworthy girl my son has fallen for? The first whore? Thelonius has a type. And you, Temperance, are exactly his.”

Tem would not be wounded by petty insults.

“Leo deserves to choose his own future.”

“My son has proven himself incapable of that task.”

It was then that Tem realized their conversation ran far deeper than just her courtship with the prince. Maximus was referring to Leo’s pattern of behavior—how his son consistently chose love over duty. It was one of Leo’s finer qualities. To Maximus, there could be nothing worse.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Tem snapped. “He has already decided.”

Maximus laughed cruelly.

“I have corrected my son’s mistakes before. I will not hesitate to do so again.”

Tem froze.

The king was admitting that he had played a part in the demise of Leo’s relationship with Evelyn. Perhaps he had paid her to leave the village.

Perhaps worse.

“I am not Evelyn,” Tem said quietly. “I will not be so easy to get rid of.”

Maximus frowned, and Tem realized he hadn’t known that she knew about Leo’s first love. Tem seized the advantage, driving her point home:

“You tried to control him once. If you try to do it again, I will turn him against you.”

Maximus’s nostrils flared.

“You would not dare .”

“I would ,” Tem snapped. “And I would relish it.”

She stepped even closer, and Maximus’s eyes widened as she finished:

“When Leo chooses me, you will honor his choice. If you do not, I will tell him you were the one who destroyed his future with Evelyn. And you will lose him forever.”

Maximus squared his shoulders.

“My son would understand.”

“Would he?” Tem arched her eyebrow petulantly. “Your son already considers you cruel. Somehow I doubt this would help his impression.”

Maximus opened his mouth to retaliate. But another voice spoke before he could:

“Tem?”

Tem turned around to see Leo on the staircase. Concern for her clouded his face. He stepped closer.

“What’s going on?”

“Temperance was just leaving,” Maximus said coolly. “She got lost on her way to the kitchen.”

Leo’s eyes remained locked on Tem’s. She arranged her face into a neutral expression.

“Yes,” she said with a nonchalant shrug. “I was hungry.”

The tiniest smile twitched Leo’s mouth.

“You always are,” he said quietly.

The smile disappeared a moment later. They were still at odds, still in a battle of wills. Not even a shared common enemy in Maximus could bring her and Leo together right now.

The prince turned back up the stairs. Without a backward glance at Maximus, Tem ran after him. She’d just told the king that the prince intended to marry her—the last thing she needed was for him to see that they were barely speaking. When they reached the landing, Leo stopped.

“What did my father want?”

Tem pursed her lips.

“He would prefer that I not wander the castle.”

Leo shot her a look.

“That preference hardly warrants a personal conversation. What did he really say to you?”

Tem avoided his eyes.

She wanted to tell him what his father had done to Eve?lyn. But it wasn’t time. Leo was still so angry with her. He wasn’t ready, and neither was she.

Tem attempted to distill their conversation into something Leo could digest:

“He thinks I’m not good enough for you.”

Leo’s expression softened almost imperceptibly.

“Well,” he murmured. “He is wrong.”

A moment passed. His expression hardened again.

“Has he spoken to you today?”

Tem knew he was referring to Caspen. She decided to be honest:

“Yes.”

Leo nodded, his jaw tightening. She expected him to walk away, but he stayed where he was.

“What did he say?”

Tem hesitated. She certainly couldn’t tell Leo about Kronos. Instead, she said:

“We’re in a fight.”

Leo raised his eyebrows.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“What sort of fight?”

Tem didn’t answer.

“Well,” Leo said slowly. “I hope you two can resolve it.”

“You do?”

To her surprise, Leo let out a dull laugh.

“Yes. I do.”

“Why? I would think you’d want us to fight.”

Leo scoffed, as if the answer was obvious.

“A race won by default is no true victory, Tem.”

“I’m a person, Leo. Not a prize.”

He stepped closer, and she sensed his energy.

“I know you’re a person. A person who is capable of making choices. I want you to choose me because you want me, Tem. Not because you’re in a fight with him.”

With that, he walked away.