Chapter Eleven
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, Tem.” He smiled, pressing his lips to her cheek. “I am.”
Tem shouldn’t have been surprised. It didn’t matter to the basilisks that it was the middle of the night. For them, it may as well have been daytime. But for Tem, it was bedtime, and she yawned widely as Caspen grasped her waist and pulled her into the passageway.
The mountain was alive with activity. Basilisks streamed by on either side of them, all headed for the courtyard.
As they entered, Tem saw the decorations she had chosen to adorn the space.
It was a small thing, but it gave her pride, showed that she had contributed somehow, even if it was just on the surface.
Caspen’s lips touched her ear. “I must check in with the council,” he murmured. “I will return in a moment.”
Before Tem could protest, he was gone. She looked around the courtyard, desperate to find a friendly face. Mercifully, her gaze fell on Adelaide. She was sitting on a bench alone, drinking a goblet of elixir. When Tem sat beside her, immediate ease flooded her chest.
“Temperance.” Adelaide smiled. “Good evening. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
To what, indeed? There was really only one thing Tem wanted to tell her: “I slapped Apollo.”
Adelaide’s eyebrows lifted. “May I ask why?”
“He wouldn’t stop flirting with me.”
Adelaide laughed. “Yes. He tends to do that.”
“Well, I’d like him to stop.”
“Would you?”
The question reminded her of her conversation with Apollo and she knew the truth was not black and white. “I…don’t know,” she said honestly.
Adelaide smiled. “Apollo is complicated.”
“He seems pretty simple to me.”
“If he seems that way to you, then you have underestimated him, and that is your mistake.”
There was a pause, and they both stared at the crowd of basilisks.
Tem shifted so she was facing Adelaide. “Complicated how?”
Another pause. Adelaide seemed to be considering what to say next, and Tem wondered about the origin of her hesitation. “He is…reckless. It has gotten him into some trouble in the past.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Apollo likes to take what is not his.”
“What has he taken?”
“Something that belonged to Caspen.”
A twinge of understanding sparked in Tem. She remembered what Apollo had said to her: My brother and I have done this dance for centuries, Temperance.
“Something? Or someone?”
Adelaide smiled but didn’t reply. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“They loved the same woman, didn’t they?”
Adelaide looked over at her. “Yes, they did.”
A dull pulse of jealousy ran through Tem. “What happened?”
“They had a falling-out,” Adelaide continued. “It did not end well for any of them.”
“But who did she choose?”
“You would have to ask Caspenon that.”
Tem fell silent, processing this. She wasn’t about to ask Caspen anything. “But…” Tem said slowly. “Caspen is with me, and Apollo isn’t with anyone. So what happened to her?”
Adelaide’s voice became quiet as she said, “She was taken for bloodletting.”
A memory came to her of Caspen searching the line of basilisks returning from the castle, as if he were expecting someone. Had he been looking for his previous love? What would he have done if she had returned to him that night?
“I don’t want to be in the middle of them,” Tem whispered.
“But you are,” Adelaide said simply.
“But I—”
“It is an honor to be pursued, Temperance. They desire you. You should take that as a compliment.”
But was she truly being pursued? This didn’t feel like pursuit. It felt like a competition—a game she hadn’t agreed to play. And who would win? Not Tem.
“The Drakon brothers are complicated, Temperance,” Adelaide said. “They lived long lives before they met you. You cannot expect to rewrite their history.”
But it wasn’t their history that Tem was concerned with. She only cared about their future. “I would never choose Apollo,” Tem said firmly. “Caspen knows that.”
Adelaide shrugged. “We are basilisks, Temperance. You can have them both.”
Tem had nothing to say to that. They sat in silence for a while, watching the activity around them.
Eventually, Adelaide said, “I must admit I am envious of you.”
Tem stared at her. “Why?”
“I have dreamed of slapping Apollo many times. As have others, I am sure. I am pleased someone finally did it.”
That information surprised Tem. Then again, perhaps it didn’t. Apollo did plenty of things she considered insufferable. He deserved to be slapped for them. “Did he ever…try to…?”
Adelaide gave her a significant look. “Sleep with me?”
Tem nodded. That was pretty much exactly it.
“Yes,” Adelaide said. “He did.”
“Oh.”
Another question occurred to her, and she asked it before she lost her nerve: “And did you…?”
“Sleep with him? Yes. I did.”
“Oh.”
Tem didn’t know where to look. She settled on staring at her hands, which were clasped on her lap.
Adelaide leaned in. “Caspenon would have you think he was the only one upset by our match, but I was not thrilled either.”
“He never mentioned how you felt.” As soon as the words came out, Tem realized how they sounded. “Sorry—” she stammered. “I just meant that—”
“I am not offended, Temperance.” Adelaide’s tone was kind. “I know what you meant. And I am not surprised he did not mention it. I doubt he wanted to mention me at all.”
Given the way Tem had reacted to their engagement, she could hardly blame him. It seemed silly now, to have been so jealous of their union. Perhaps her basilisk side understood it on some level—perhaps she was adjusting to their customs.
“I slept with Apollo to be vindictive. But also because I wanted to. And if you were to do the same, no one would blame you.”
That wasn’t true—Tem would blame herself.
Adelaide seemed to know what she was thinking. “It is different for basilisks, Temperance. To be with both brothers…it is expected. Apollo has first rights to you. That is no small thing. He will expect to exercise them. Caspenon may expect it eventually too.”
Tem continued to look at her feet. The thought of sleeping with Apollo was tantalizing; the fact that she was expected to do so was baffling.
It was difficult for her human side to comprehend such a thing.
She had been raised to view marriages as strictly monogamous.
Sleeping with your husband’s brother was considered cheating, point-blank, period.
“They are quite similar,” Adelaide said presently.
“Who?”
“Apollo and Caspenon.”
Tem scoffed. They were nothing alike. “How so?”
Adelaide paused, gathering her thoughts. “Caspenon is passionate,” she said slowly. “He feels things deeply. Apollo is the same way.”
Tem snorted. Apollo didn’t feel anything deeply. He was as shallow as a puddle.
“You may not believe it,” Adelaide said. “But it is true. Apollo is merely better at concealing it.”
Tem couldn’t wrap her mind around such a concept. All she could see was the differences between them: the way Caspen protected her, the way Apollo chided her. One brother cared; the other did not.
“Caspen is better than Apollo,” Tem said firmly.
Adelaide tilted her elegant head thoughtfully. “In what way?”
“He wants what’s best for me.”
“And you think Apollo does not?”
Tem looked up at her. “I know he doesn’t. He’s constantly trying to corrupt me.”
Adelaide let out a laugh. “You give him too much credit, Temperance. You are not easily corrupted.”
It felt like a compliment, so Tem took it as one. “I can’t let him win,” she admitted.
“Then you need only deprive him.” Adelaide smiled conspiratorially. “He wishes to sleep with you. That much is obvious. If you withhold yourself from him, he will never stop pursuing you.”
Tem considered this. Did she want him to pursue her?
Leo wasn’t pursuing her, and Caspen already had her.
Why shouldn’t she indulge in the very thing that basilisks were known for indulging in?
It would be a lie to say that she didn’t like it when Apollo flirted with her.
It turned her on her axis, as if she were a planet and he were a new gravitational pull.
Perhaps that was exactly what she needed: lightness, levity, flirtation.
Caspen would be proud that she was assimilating so well into basilisk culture.
He might even encourage it. He had encouraged it.
“And you are wrong,” Adelaide continued.
“About what?”
“About Apollo’s intentions. He does want what is best for you. We all do.”
With that, Adelaide stood and walked away.
Tem started after her in bewilderment. It was an uncharacteristically straightforward thing for a basilisk to say.
We all do. But who, exactly, was “we”? Caspen and Apollo?
Or had Adelaide meant it in a broader sense, implying that all basilisks wanted what was best for her?
It had never seemed that way to Tem. It had always felt as if basilisks wanted something from her.
And what, exactly, was best for her anyway?
Tem knew it was Caspen. But sometimes, in the depths of night, she wondered if that were really true. Before she could ponder further, he appeared.
“Tem,” Caspen said, extending his hand. “You must stand. It is about to begin.”
Tem didn’t bother asking what “it” was. Instead, she allowed Caspen to guide her to the steps at the edge of the courtyard. From this vantage point, she could see basilisks gathering around the fountain. They conversed intently with one other before dispersing into a circle.
“What are they doing?”
“They are forming an ouroboros,” Caspen explained. “A sacred shape to us. It is infinite and represents renewal.”
“But what’s the point?”
“By participating in the ouroboros, we honor the cycle of our people. Mating season will result in many unions and will likely produce the next generation of children.”
The circle was growing—morphing into a large loop that surrounded the fountain.
“What do you mean by…participating?”
Caspen touched her waist.
“The ouroboros is a symbol of unity. It is meant to connect us. Members from each quiver will join the circle in opposing positions.”