Chapter Thirty-Three #3
Apollo frowned. “Leo?”
Tem realized Apollo only knew him by one name. “Thelonius. The human king.”
She expected a reaction of some kind. For him to shout, perhaps, or berate her. Instead he tilted his head, looking at her with what could only be described as compassion. His gaze flicked down to her hand, where her silver wedding band glinted.
“I always wondered why you still wore that,” he whispered.
Tem twirled the ring around her finger, feeling the cool metal. Caspen had never once asked about it. She was beginning to think he never would. “I…can’t bear to take it off.”
Apollo tilted his head, as if he’d just understood something. “You are afraid your heart will call to him.”
Tears filled her eyes. When he said it out loud, somehow it made it real. “Yes,” she whispered.
Apollo sighed. It wasn’t an angry sigh—more wistful, as if he felt sorry for her. Most likely he did. Tem had allowed this to go too far, had indulged her feelings for too long. Now she would face the consequences. Apollo could not fix this. No one could.
“We cannot help who we love, Temperance.” It sounded like he was speaking from experience. “You are not the first person to enter the tournament uncertain. And you will not be the last.”
“I’m not uncertain,” she said. “I love them both. That is certain.”
Apollo regarded for a moment before speaking. “I cannot pretend to understand your love for the human king. From what I have seen of him, he looks rather frail.”
Tem almost laughed.
“But I can understand matters of the heart,” Apollo continued, touching his fingers gently to Tem’s chest. “And matters of the heart are never simple.”
Tem looked up at him. Apollo said it calmly, in a tone that implied he had extensive experience in the matter.
And she supposed he did. Caspen and Apollo had both been alive for centuries—far longer than Tem.
She was twenty years old. She was a child in comparison.
But nobody here treated her like a child, especially the Drakon brothers.
It was a double-edged sword. She was not afforded the grace a child would be in the same situation.
Tem had made her bed, and now she would have to lie in it.
“Temperance,” he said softly, and she looked up at him. “My brother deserves to know how you feel.”
Tem knew what he was trying to say. I care only that you are loyal with your heart.
“I shall keep your secret,” Apollo murmured. “But I cannot do so forever. Do you understand me?”
Tem nodded. It was all she could ask of him, and it was already too much. “I understand.”
They stood in silence. Eventually, Tem couldn’t take it anymore. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”
The words were out before she could stop them, and Tem wasn’t even sure why she’d said them.
Apollo was the last person she should be asking a question like that.
She thought about when he’d taught her to petrify, how she’d wanted to do it to someone who deserved it.
She wondered whether someone who deserved it was her.
Apollo gave her the slightest smile. “Define bad.”
There was no answer to that. Everything was allowed here; nothing was off-limits. Basilisks had absolutely no sense of right or wrong—at least not the way humans did. When Tem remained silent, Apollo touched her gently, skimming just his fingertips along the curve of her waist.
“Why would you ask me that?”
“Because I need forgiveness.”
He shook his head. “My forgiveness is not the one you truly need.”
Tem knew he was right. She was asking for absolution for what she’d done to Leo.
Apollo could not provide it. She sought something that nobody could give her, not even Caspen.
Pain pinched Tem’s chest. It felt as if she were on the edge of a panic attack, as if the walls were closing in on her.
She didn’t need Apollo’s forgiveness, but she wanted it anyway.
“Answer me,” she said, firmly this time.
Apollo raised an eyebrow, considering her.
His hand tightened on her waist, and Tem’s heartbeat sped up.
She knew he could sense it; basilisks could always sense such things.
But she didn’t retreat. Instead, Tem wondered whether Apollo was a bad person too.
He certainly wasn’t proper or polite or anything that civilized society would consider good.
But he was brave. And fearless. He loved his family, and he protected them when necessary.
Was there anything else, really, that mattered?
Was it enough to love the people you cared about, to wish the best for them? Tem didn’t know anymore.
Apollo’s hand trailed up her body to her chin, raising her head to his. Tem almost wondered if they were going to kiss. Instead he whispered, “I do not think you are a bad person.”
Tem processed his answer, wondering what to make of it. “I think I am,” she whispered.
Apollo’s fingers traced her jaw, wrapping around the back of her neck. She was poised, ready, waiting. “That is your choice, Temperance.”
She held his gaze. “Apollo?”
“Temperance?”
Her heart slammed against her rib cage. It was all hitting her right now, all at once: the severity of the tournament, the consequences of her actions.
If her heart did not call to Caspen, they would never touch again.
Tem fought the sudden urge to vomit. She needed comfort, and Apollo was the only one who could provide it.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she said, “Will you hold me?”
Apollo didn’t hesitate for even a moment.
He simply opened his arms, stepped forward, and pulled her against him.
The moment he did so, Tem’s mind went quiet.
For the first time in days, she relaxed.
The tension left her muscles; the anxiety quieted in her brain.
She tucked her head against Apollo’s neck and closed her eyes, feeling nothing but the steady rise and fall of his chest.
He breathed impossibly slowly, just as Caspen did.
But Apollo’s body felt different. It was not familiar to her the way his brother’s was.
Tem had memorized every inch of Caspen’s body; she knew every peak, every valley.
Apollo’s torso had different angles, a different shape to tuck herself against. He smelled of smoke, as Caspen did, but it wasn’t the same; Caspen’s was dynamic and strong—the smoke of a wildfire as it ripped through a forest. Apollo’s was rich and layered and dark—an aching ember.
At some point, Apollo’s hand cradled the back of her head. His fingers gently stroked her hair, and Tem found herself soothed by the motion. She hadn’t realized how much she needed this until it was happening. She’d gone far too long without simply standing still and being.
Apollo’s mind brushed tentatively against hers. Is this helping, Temperance?
Tem nodded, her head still buried against his shoulder.
This was the only thing that was helping.
For the first time in days, she felt human again.
It was easy to forget that side of her when she was only surrounded by basilisks.
But her human side was the side she had known the longest; she had grown up thinking she was human, and only in the past few months had everything changed.
It was too much for one person, too much far too quickly.
For the first time, Tem wondered if she had moved too fast, taken on too much in this new life of hers.
She wasn’t ready to live like a basilisk. That had only become more apparent as time had passed. She wasn’t ready for any of it.
Apollo spoke again. What else can I do?
There was nothing else he could do. Not really. There was nothing anyone could do.
You’ve already done more than enough. It occurred to her that there was one more thing she needed to say to him: Thank you.
Apollo held her for a long time. Tem let the silence sit, knowing she would not be the one to fill it. When he pulled away, she remained in place, looking up at his carved face in the darkness.
Get some sleep, Temperance.
Then he was gone.
The moment Tem entered her chambers, she saw there was someone in her bed: Gabriel.
Tem climbed underneath the blankets next to him, curling her body against his, savoring his beating heart.
He pulled her close, the second man to hold her tonight, tucking his head into the crook of her neck.
She was so grateful he was here, that he’d forgone Damon’s company for hers—that she wasn’t alone.
“You’d better not snore, dearest,” he mumbled into her hair.
Tem couldn’t help but smile. “You’d better not either.”
“I would never. I have very delicate airways.”
Tem rolled her eyes. Then she fell asleep.
Hours later, her name came to her in the darkness.
“Temperance,” Adelaide whispered. “Wake up. It is midnight.”