Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
Shame flushed her face. When he phrased it like that, it seemed so much worse than it was.
But perhaps Apollo was right. Perhaps it was worse than Tem had thought it was.
Every moment she harbored love for Leo was a moment closer to disaster.
Apollo would not be there to take away her emotions every time they became a problem.
Tem would have to deal with this head-on, or it would be dealt with for her.
“Besides,” he continued, “I could not keep it even if I wanted to.”
“What happens if you keep it?”
“It will come out,” he said simply.
Then he placed his palm on her chest and closed his eyes.
Unlike when he’d extracted her emotions before—violently and with no warning—this time they seeped back into her chest slowly, warming her the way a crackling fire would.
It was as if a flower were blooming in her chest. Tem could feel the petals opening, reaching outward like fingers.
Finally, her link to Leo was restored. The moment it was done, Tem sighed.
Her love for him might cause her pain, but it also made her whole.
She’d felt utterly wrong without it, like she was missing a part of her.
And in a way, she was. Despite the fact that this was tearing her apart, it was also the only thing keeping her together.
Without her love for Leo, she lost a part of herself.
“You must rid yourself of this,” Apollo said quietly.
But Tem couldn’t do that. She’d already tried falling out of love with Leo. Nothing could be more impossible. “I can’t.”
“Temperance.” He stepped closer. “You must. If you consummate the crest, your blood bond will be broken and Caspenon will be forced to kill you. He will never forgive himself.”
Tem shook her head. “I can’t tell him.”
“You cannot go on like this. You are tearing yourself in two.”
It was only once he said it that Tem realized it was true. She’d been living with these feelings for so long that she’d almost forgotten what it was like to be without them. She had gotten used to feeling like her heart was in two places. The agony was familiar to her now.
“Do you know what I felt when I took this from you?” Apollo asked quietly.
Tem shook her head.
“Pain. Not love, Temperance. But pain. You are hurting yourself by loving them both. You must choose.”
Caspen’s words came back to her: The time will come when you will have to choose.
But Tem didn’t want to choose. She couldn’t choose. She hadn’t been able to then, and she was no more able to now. She was at a crossroads, as she always had been, and there was nobody coming to save her. It was untenable. But it was her reality.
“I can’t choose,” she whispered.
To her surprise, Apollo’s eyes softened. “I understand it cannot be not easy for you.”
That was the understatement of the century. Nothing about this was easy. It never had been.
“But your current state is unsustainable,” he continued, his voice gentle in the dark. “I myself could barely stand it for as long as I did. I do not know how you have been surviving it.”
Tem knew. She was two things: basilisk and human. That was how she was surviving it. Each side of her loved someone else. It was unsustainable for Apollo; it was reality for her.
“Basilisks are not meant to love more than one person,” he murmured. “We share our bodies but not our hearts.”
Tem had heard it before. She knew what was happening to her was wrong, that she had crossed a line long ago. But that didn’t mean she could help it. And it didn’t mean she could change it.
“It is unnatural, this thing within you. I fear it will be your undoing.”
Caspen had once called her his undoing. How ironic that Leo would be hers.
“It is breaking your mind, Temperance.”
It wasn’t her mind that Tem was worried about. It was taking a toll on her heart now, and if things continued as they had been, there was no telling how bad it might get.
“I don’t know what to do,” Tem whispered.
“I swore I would protect you,” Apollo said quietly. “But I cannot protect you from yourself.”
Tem nodded because she couldn’t seem to speak anymore.
She understood exactly what he was telling her.
If everything fell apart—if her love for Leo destroyed her relationship with Caspen—it would be entirely her fault.
Nobody, not even Apollo, could prevent that from happening, as much as he might want to.
Tem had always known the facts; it was why she’d resisted Leo for so long.
But there was no elegant solution here. If she didn’t sleep with him, he would die.
And if she did, Caspen would kill her. How was that an acceptable outcome?
Tem had fallen for both of them, and now their fates were intertwined because of it.
Apollo leaned in, and for a split second, Tem thought he might kiss her. Instead he brushed his lips gently along her cheek before whispering in her ear: “I cannot bear to watch you die.”
Despite his heat, Tem felt a chill. She’d never considered how this would make Apollo feel.
The pain would be horrific for him. He would feel not only grief but guilt.
His role in this was unquestionable now.
The last thing she wanted was for Apollo to watch her die, much less at the hands of his brother.
The loss would wound them both. Apollo had once told her that she could not break them. But Tem had a feeling she could.
She had just opened her mouth to speak when a voice cut between them: “Tem?”
It was Caspen.