Chapter Nine
Caspen was waiting for her in the foyer. It was odd to see him there, surrounded by the gilded castle walls, his ethereal beauty outshining even the gold in the tiles.
He looked up as she approached, his eyes dark with worry. “Tem. How was it?”
“Horrible,” she answered honestly.
A pause. “Do you wish to discuss it?”
Tem shook her head. It was all she could manage. So much had happened tonight that it was impossible to distinguish which event was most worth discussing.
Caspen’s hand found her waist. “Shall we go home?”
Home. Under the mountain.
“I can’t.”
Caspen frowned. “Is something wrong?”
Tem just shook her head again. “I’ll meet you back at the caves.”
Still, Caspen hesitated. His fingers tightened around her waist. “I know this was difficult for you tonight,” he said quietly. “But you can always speak to me about it.”
When she didn’t answer, his voice dropped even lower:
“About…him.”
Tem felt the sudden urge to cry. She didn’t want to speak to Caspen about Leo. It was the last thing she should be talking to her husband about.
“I know it is hard for you, Tem. You are not used to…sharing.”
It was true. Basilisk culture had prepared Caspen for the situation with him and Leo. But Tem was not prepared. Tem was being torn in two. Her deception had begun already, when she’d shielded her mind from Caspen during sex. Something told her that was only the beginning.
“Please, Caspen,” she whispered. “Just let me go.”
Without another word, he did.
They took separate carriages away from the castle.
Tem watched as Caspen’s carriage wound into the darkness, toward the mountain. Their connection was closed; Tem had thrown up a barrier as soon as they’d parted. At first she thought of heading to her parents’ cottage. But at the last moment, she asked the footman to take her into the village.
The Horseman was crowded. Gabriel was in their favorite booth, as he always was. Except this time when he looked up to see her, his smile was just a moment delayed. “Tem,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
It wasn’t his usual greeting. Usually he called her “dearest” and kissed her on the cheek.
“I needed a drink,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
Tem expected him to make a joke about needing a drink too. Or perhaps needing some action. Instead his eyes shifted to the bar, where a group of men were gathered. Tem had seen them before; they were regulars. Vera’s father was among them, along with Jonathan’s older brother, Jeremy.
“Gabriel?” she prompted. “What’s going on?”
He pursed his lips. Tem knew he was remembering their promise—how they’d sworn to be honest with each other. “There’s meant to be a protest tonight,” Gabriel said finally.
A protest—the very thing Leo had mentioned at dinner. Tem hadn’t wanted to believe him. She stared at the villagers gathered around the bar. These were men she’d known since childhood. They were peaceful people. Tem couldn’t imagine them protesting.
“About what?” she asked, although she felt like she already knew.
He shrugged. “Money. Food. Everyone’s starving. There’s nothing to go around. Even your old farm is running out of eggs. Trust me, I checked.”
“You…checked?”
If Gabriel had checked her farm for eggs, that meant he was suffering too, that her best friend in the entire world had been affected by her decisions—that she’d inadvertently hurt yet another person whom she loved.
“I’m fine, Tem. I work in the castle, remember? No food shortages there.” But something about the way he said it sounded bitter.
“What do you mean?”
Gabriel shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “Our soon-to-be queen eats well.”
It was all he said. But Tem knew exactly what he meant.
The royals were not suffering; they never would.
The consequences of Tem’s actions would land squarely on the villagers—the people who deserved it the least. Evelyn would not feel the pain of constriction; her stomach would not tighten with hunger.
Tem thought of the dinner she’d had just an hour ago—roasted chicken, golden potatoes, luscious greens.
Gabriel was right. The new queen ate well.
“What can be done?” she whispered.
Gabriel shrugged again before taking a tight sip of beer.
He didn’t answer, and he didn’t have to.
Tem’s eyes slid once more to the men gathering at the bar.
Protesting was the only way to retaliate, the only way for the villagers to make sure their voices were heard.
But it created a precarious situation for Leo.
Protests, no matter how peacefully they began, were just one slip away from violence.
“Gabriel,” she said. “This is dangerous. Whoever got you into this doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”
His eyes narrowed. “I got me into this, Tem. It’s my choice to be here.”
“I know, but—”
“I got everyone else into it too.”
A moment passed as Tem understood what he was saying. “You organized this?”
“People are angry, Tem. I’m one of them.”
Tears pricked her eyes. Things were going so very wrong. Everything was supposed to be fixed now that the bloodletting was over; that was supposed to make everything better. But it had only made everything worse.
“I work in the castle, Tem,” Gabriel said. “I see it firsthand.”
“Gabriel,” she said slowly. “What exactly have you seen?”
Gabriel rolled his shoulders. His normally relaxed posture was stiff, his arms crossed protectively.
He didn’t look her in the eye as he answered.
“I see how they eat, how they live. I see that they’re still drenched in gold while the rest of us starve.
” He paused, and his next words came quietly. “And I saw how they freed the snakes.”
Tem’s heart thudded in her chest. “What do you mean?”
Gabriel finally looked at her. “You know what I mean.”
For the first time, Tem heard accusation in his tone.
She wondered what he’d overheard within the castle walls.
Did he understand that it was ultimately Tem’s plea that had freed the basilisks?
The last time they were here, she’d told him she was half-basilisk.
He’d been understanding then. Would he hold it against her now?
Tem and Gabriel had never faced a crossroads in their friendship, never reached a point where their ultimate goals were at odds.
Now Gabriel was protesting the very thing Tem had begged for—the thing she knew was right.
It felt deeply unfair that a win for the basilisks was a loss for the humans. It always would be.
Tem raised her hand, cupping his cheek. “We said no more secrets,” she whispered. “We promised each other, remember?”
Gabriel sighed. “I remember.”
Tem opened her mouth to say something else, but a cheer from the bar cut her off. The men were heading toward the door.
Gabriel stood, and Tem stood with him. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“I want to come.”
Gabriel shook his head. “It’s not safe for you.”
“Then it’s not safe for you either.”
“Just go home, Tem. Please.”
She shook her head. “If you’re going, I’m going. That’s final.”
A tiny smile split Gabriel’s face. “You are rather stubborn tonight, dearest.”
Tem rolled her eyes. “Every night.”
With a sigh, Gabriel hooked his arm through hers. Together, they joined the crowd and filed out onto the street.
Tem had no idea what to expect. Energy was high—the men were whooping and yelling and clapping each other on their shoulders.
There were no women that Tem could see, and she wondered if their husbands had forbidden them to come the same way Gabriel had just tried to do to her.
Most of the windows around them were dark—it was after dinner, and the children of the village were asleep.
As they approached the town square, a chant formed. Three words, over and over:
“Kill the snakes! Kill the snakes! Kill the snakes!”
A horrible chill slipped down Tem’s spine.
It was the same thing the villagers had chanted after the Passing of the Crown.
That day had been a tumultuous one; several men had stormed the stage, putting the prince and his family in danger.
Tem still remembered the way Gabriel had leapt into action to protect Leo on her behalf.
Afterward, Leo had shown up on her doorstep and she’d wiped a drop of blood from his cheek.
They’d kissed, and Tem had decided his family’s sins were not his own.
But the villagers were not so easily persuaded. And who could blame them?
The chanting grew louder as they rounded the corner to the town square.
Gabriel’s arm was tight in Tem’s as they crossed the cobblestone square and reached the church steps.
But they didn’t climb them. Instead, Tem saw a dozen soldiers stationed in front of the enormous wooden doors.
They were dressed in armor stamped with the royal insignia: a snake dueling with a rooster.
“They’ve been here ever since your wedding,” Gabriel said over the chanting. “Protecting the church.”
“Why?”
“The royals built it.”
Tem stared at the church, at the statues of the gods.
It was Kora’s house of worship, and it was supposed to be sacred.
It was also the nicest building in the village.
Surrounded by thatched huts, its marble walls stood out like a sore thumb.
Tem glanced around the crowd, which was far more than a dozen people. The guards were outnumbered.
“Gabriel,” she said. “What are they going to do?”
“Send a message,” he said simply.
Dread pierced her. The men were in a frenzy. Even Gabriel’s lanky frame couldn’t shield her from getting jostled.
“You should get out of here,” he said in her ear.
“What about you?”
“I have to do this.” His words were laced with deeper meaning.
“No.” Tem shook her head. “You don’t.”
“Just stay here, Tem. Please. I need you to be safe.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but Gabriel was already gone. Tem watched his shoulders as he moved through the crowd, corralling the men toward the church.