Chapter Forty-Three
It was just as Tem remembered it: the long marble table, the stone chairs surrounding it.
Caspen sat at the head of the table, his face as hard as the stone around him. Everyone was naked, but this time, a coldness hung in the air that Tem could not escape—it bit into her skin like frost, and she found herself shivering.
Their presence was clearly unprecedented; Tem had no idea whether a human other than herself had ever attended a council meeting before.
But Tem was a Hybreed, so in some way, she belonged.
Leo, on the other hand, was utterly out of place.
Despite this, he held his own. Tem was impressed by the way he carried himself: tall, the way a king should.
His shoulders were thrown back, his chin held high.
He didn’t look scared—only wary. And Tem understood more than ever just how much his life was in her hands.
She would not endanger him—she would allow no harm to come to the human king.
As they approached the table, the woman closest to them looked at Leo.
“I have never been with a human,” she said musingly, her gaze traveling up and down his body as if he were her next meal.
“And you’re not going to start now,” Tem snapped, stepping possessively in front of Leo.
The woman laughed softly. “Why do you care? You are wed to the Serpent King. You already have a mate.”
“He’s my responsibility,” Tem said. “And I will protect him.”
“Will you fuck him too? Or can the rest of us do that?”
Tem resisted the urge to rip her head from her shoulders.
“Is his cock as hard as a serpent’s?” the woman continued, her eyes flicking between his legs. “Or is it fragile, like the rest of him?”
“Enough,” Caspen said.
The woman fell silent immediately, and everyone turned to face him. Last time, Tem had sat with him at the head of the table, sharing his seat. This time, she didn’t know where to go, so she stayed standing next to Leo. He was a light in this dark room, and she savored his body next to hers.
Tell him he can speak.
Caspen’s voice was clipped. Tem hadn’t realized that he wouldn’t even be addressing Leo directly. It was ridiculous, but it was also his right.
Tem leaned closer to Leo. “He says you can speak.”
Leo raised his eyebrows. Tem doubted he’d expected things to start off so abruptly. Neither had she.
“I come before you with my sincere condolences,” he began. “I am deeply sorry for your loss.”
Tem realized she was holding her breath.
If there was ever a time for Leo’s words to work their magic, it was now.
But Caspen was immovable. He stared not at Leo but at Tem, and she held his gaze despite the rage in his eyes.
This was just as much her apology as it was Leo’s.
Tem was the one who had brought the two kingdoms together—it was her word and her actions that had created the problem they were in right now.
When Caspen didn’t respond, Leo kept going, his words steady and true.
“I know you do not think much of me. And I cannot say that I blame you. But you must know that I never wanted this, and I did not order the attack on your people. That is the last thing I would ever do.” His gaze flicked to Tem, and she knew he was thinking of how much he loved her.
“I understand that your people have suffered at my family’s hand.
It is my greatest shame to carry that legacy.
I only want peace, which is why I abolished the bloodletting. ”
Leo paused, glancing at Tem for guidance.
“That was perfect,” she whispered. “You can stop now.”
Leo fell silent.
She’d meant what she said; Leo had done well. Basilisks appreciated straightforwardness, and Leo’s speech couldn’t have been more sincere. Tem knew he meant every word. She only wondered if Caspen knew it too. She addressed him with her mind. He’s being honest. Will you forgive him?
Caspen’s eyes were still on her. Will you forgive me if I do not?
Tem thought about his question. Could she, ultimately, forgive Caspen if he never forgave Leo?
Tem understood how difficult this was for Caspen.
So much of the basilisks’ pain stemmed from the royals—it had gone on too long, and the wounds were too deep.
Tem was part basilisk, so she felt that same pain.
But she was also part human.
She had known her human side longer, and that side of her saw the good in Leo and in humans overall.
If Caspen chose not to forgive him—or worse, to punish him—Tem doubted she would ever forgive him.
She was still processing the fact that Caspen had demanded this of Leo at all.
She couldn’t blame him, given their circumstances.
But it still felt like a betrayal. There was only one answer to Caspen’s question.
But before she could give it, Caspen looked at Leo and snapped, “You say you abolished the bloodletting. But then you brought it back.”
Tem didn’t know whether it was better or worse that he was addressing Leo directly now.
“I never wanted to bring it back,” Leo said. “And as soon as we did, I put a stop to it again.”
“And what will you do instead? Your people will expect a replacement. If they do not get one, my people will continue to weather attacks.”
“I will seek a loan,” Leo said. “And if I cannot acquire one, I will sell my possessions. There is no need for me to hoard wealth. Generations of my family have long collected gold. I have more of it than I could ever need.”
Tem looked cautiously around the table. To her surprise, the basilisks seemed to like that answer.
They respected someone who was willing to part with their possessions because they did not have many possessions of their own.
Hoarding was not something the basilisks practiced—it was a distinctly human trait to have more than you needed and still think you needed more.
But Caspen would not be so easily convinced. “And when your possessions run out? What then?”
Leo sighed. “I do not know. But I am willing to have many more discussions to come to an acceptable solution for both of us, if you are willing.”
Again, an answer they liked. A murmur of approval went around the table, even from the woman who was still looking at Leo like she wanted to jump on him right then and there.
“And you think the villagers will tolerate such a solution?”
“The villagers do not care where their gold comes from. They care only that they have food on their plates.”
As a former villager, Tem knew that was certainly true.
“Still,” Caspen said, his voice low. “They are angry. They take it out on us.”
Leo pursed his lips. He had already apologized; there was nothing more he could do. Rather than fill the space with words, he let the silence sit, letting Caspen dictate where to take this next.
Tem waited, still holding her breath.
The next basilisk to speak was a man from the Seneca side of the table. “The villagers are not the only ones who are angry,” he said.
Everyone turned to look at him.
“The outcome of the tournament was unacceptable to the Senecas.”
Caspen scoffed. “The outcome of the tournament is sanctioned by Kora. You cannot dispute it.”
“I did not say we dispute it. Only that it is dissatisfactory. She”—he pointed a finger at Tem—“belongs to us.”
Not this again. The entire point of the tournament was to settle this quiver dispute once and for all.
“You dare question my authority?” Caspen said.
“We question Drakon authority. And we are not the only ones. If the attacks continue, why should we trust you to handle them?”
Caspen looked angry. That was nothing new. But something else was clearly present on his face: restraint. He was shifting in his seat, clenching his fists as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t. Tem reached for him with her mind:
Caspen? What is it?
They are speaking of rebellion.
I thought most of the Senecas went back to the sea. Are there even enough left to rebel?
They went to the sea to follow Rowe. He has planted seeds of dissent ever since. When the outcome of the tournament was not in his favor, it only made him angrier.
How do you know this?
I have seen it myself.
When?
He didn’t answer.
Tem thought about the gap of time after the tournament when Caspen had been gone for days. When she’d asked him where he was, all he’d said was that he was with Apollo. Was this the true answer? That he had been to the sea, that he had seen the signs of rebellion with his own eyes?
But what does this mean, Caspen?
It means that Rowe has become more powerful since the tournament.
Without thinking, Tem’s gaze fell to Caspen’s neck. The bite mark wasn’t bleeding, but it was red and angry, as if it were about to.
He plans to use that power to dethrone me.
You mean he plans to use your power.
Caspen didn’t reply. They both knew the implications of the bite—how Rowe could siphon from Caspen until there was nothing left to siphon.
The Seneca man was still waiting for his answer.
Finally, Caspen said, “You just heard from the human king. The villagers will be fed; there will be no more attacks.”
The man stood. “That’s not good enough.”
Caspen stood too. “You have my word. That is good enough.”
The rest of the council stood too. Immediately, Tem stepped closer to Leo.
“Perhaps your word no longer holds weight, Caspenon. Perhaps the time has come to step aside.”
“Step aside?” Caspen scoffed. “And who would you have take my place? Rowe? He is a disgrace. He used bloodletting to galvanize himself. It is against our laws. He cannot be rewarded for that.”
“Perhaps our laws are outdated. Rowe is a visionary. He sees a new way to power.”
Caspen’s words returned to Tem suddenly: The royals make their own rules. So, apparently, did the Senecas.
“That way is wrong,” Caspen said, his voice low. “We corrupt ourselves if we allow it.”