Chapter Forty-Seven #2
Her mother had once told her that true love meant sacrificing your happiness for theirs.
Caspen had taken it one step further; he’d performed the ultimate sacrifice—the final gesture.
He’d done the one thing he could never take back.
Tem wondered if she was worthy of such a gesture.
Perhaps there was no way to be truly worthy of this.
Tem remembered the first night of the training—how she’d been young, inexperienced, a virgin. She remembered what she’d asked her mother while she spread ylang-ylang and sandalwood oils on her thighs:
What will it be like?
It will be…transformative. You will take the first step to becoming a woman.
I thought I was one already.
Not nearly, my dear. You have barely begun to live. You cannot possibly fathom the journey you are about to embark on.
Tem could not possibly have fathomed the journey she was about to embark on.
She could hardly fathom it now that it was over.
It was true that back then, she had barely begun to live.
Yet somehow, that also felt true now. Somehow, standing here in the cave, Tem felt as if things were just beginning for her.
She had an entire life to live with Leo.
It would not be nearly the length of the life she would have had as a Hybreed with Caspen.
But it would be a good life. It would mean something.
Life was something to be cherished. It was better, Tem figured, to do your best with the little time you were given, rather than to do nothing at all with eternity.
She would endeavor to live a life she would be proud of—that Caspen would be proud of.
At last, Tem left the mountain.
The night sky was clear above her, the Alpha Serpentis shining brighter than normal.
Tem stared up at it, allowing her tears to fall.
She walked slowly down the path, one step at a time.
Past the makeshift grave where she’d buried the weasel.
Past the wall. Past her childhood cottage.
She walked all the way to the castle, as slow as she liked, letting herself experience every second of the journey.
The village was beautiful at night. All the windows were lit, and Tem could picture how it would look in the coming months when snow arrived.
By the time she reached the castle, it was well into the night.
She didn’t bother knocking on the door. This was her home now, and she would come and go as she pleased.
Instead, she entered the foyer, which was notably empty.
Every gold picture frame was gone. The sparkling grout had been scraped from between the tiles.
She climbed the stairs to Leo’s bedroom, knowing he would probably be asleep.
When she reached it, she found that she was right.
Leo was in bed, his white-blond hair splayed on his pillow.
He looked so peaceful like this. Angelic.
Tem sat next to him.
He woke immediately. “Tem,” he breathed.
“Hi,” she said quietly.
He touched the very end of her curls, pulling them gently before letting them go. “Can I get you anything?” he whispered. “Are you hungry?”
Tem shook her head. She took off her clothes slowly, letting them fall to the floor. Leo lifted the blanket, and she crawled in beside him. He brushed his fingers gently over the scar on her chest. Then he kissed her.
And thus began their life together.
They remarried in the garden at Tem’s parents’ cottage, with Lilly officiating.
Leo gave her no ring; she had never stopped wearing the one he’d given her the first time.
Gabriel came, and so did Damon, who regaled her with tales from the sea.
Tem invited Adelaide, who politely declined but sent an elaborate selection of shells.
Tem set them on her mother’s mantel, where they looked right at home next to the spray bottle of salt water.
Apollo sent his own gift—an enormous bouquet of deep purple and red flowers. The color of a bruise. Complex. And beautiful. Just like you.
It was strange to continue her life without the basilisks, to have something taken away that never felt like hers to begin with.
But in a way, becoming fully human felt like returning home—like finding something she’d never truly lost. There was no doubt that Tem mourned the loss of her basilisk side.
But every time she looked at Leo, she was reminded of what she’d gained.
He was always by her side. Especially in the beginning, he was never more than a few feet away.
Tem wondered if he did it consciously, or if it was more for his benefit than for hers.
Either way, she appreciated it. Whenever she reached out her hand, he was there.
Whenever she needed him, he was there. He would always be there.
Besides, all had not been lost.
Tem retained the ability to manipulate emotions.
She often calmed Leo down when he asked her to—when the trauma of what happened became too much for him.
She could also still heal wounds—something she’d noticed while gardening with her mother.
One moment she’d cut herself with the spade, and the next it was healed.
She could speak to basilisks using her mind, although her father was the only one left to speak to.
They did it often, and Tem was grateful for that.
She had no idea if she could crest and was not willing to find out.
There was a constant, insistent thrum of power in her chest at all times, radiating through her skin, warming her even when she didn’t mean for it to.
It was Rowe’s, and Tem basked in the fact that he would hate that she had it.
The only thing she truly lost was the ability to transition.
But there was no need for that anymore. She would not love another basilisk; she would never again need to embody her true form.
But perhaps, since she was half-human, she would focus on her true human form and Leo. He had also lost a part of himself—he certainly hadn’t still been in love with Evelyn, but the reality of her had taken his memories of first love from him.
Evelyn’s presence was scrubbed from the castle long before Tem arrived, but Tem swore she still felt her in the hallways, watching her.
Her pinched mouth was ever present, even now.
Out of sight but not out of mind. Tem wondered where she was—if she had simply gone back to living one village over, or if she had gone somewhere farther away.
Surely, she would find some other rich man to take advantage of.
Perhaps, in another universe, she would be friends with Vera.
The thought amused Tem. They would be the perfect match.
Maximus remained in the dungeons. Leo never mentioned him, and Tem didn’t either.
But Tem knew Leo thought about his father.
Every once in a while, she saw him touch the scars on the back of his neck—the ones Maximus had given him during the Cutting.
Four scars. Fourth in his bloodline. Father and son. But Leo was nothing like his father.
He was always there for Tem, comforting her in the middle of the night whenever she woke up to cry.
He stroked her spine, murmuring words of comfort until she fell asleep against his chest. They never talked about it the next morning.
But she knew he would be there the next night when it inevitably happened again.
Still sharing her, even after Caspen was gone.
Two men. Two loves. Two kings. On the nights when things got especially bad, Leo read to her in front of the fireplace.
She sat curled up in the armchair, soothed by the sound of his voice.
Her scar never healed correctly. Some days it itched so badly, Tem had to take ice baths to soothe it.
She’d never enjoyed baths before. But now she savored them.
Most nights, Leo pressed his lips to it before he fell asleep.
When she asked him why he did this, he answered, “Because it brought you to me.”
They visited the graveyard every morning, the same way Leo used to do. They sat on the bench together, facing the old willow tree.
E + L
And then, right below it:
T + C
Love is complicated, after all. It never goes away. Only changes.
Eventually, Leo let her read the letters. It was only fair, considering Evelyn and Caspen had both read them—a fact Tem almost found funny. She was always, even now, the last to know.
Leo left her alone while she read them. Perhaps he knew she needed privacy.
Perhaps he knew she might cry. But to Tem’s surprise, the first letter in the pile was not from Leo.
She opened it with trembling fingers to see the words were written in unfamiliar script.
The moment she started reading it, tears streamed down her cheeks.
Tem,
It is my understanding that Leo wrote you letters. I thought it only fair that I write one of my own.
At first I found it odd that he would leave such precious materials in the very room in which we were staying on the eve of his wedding.
Then, given the content of the letters, I suspected it was not his doing at all.
There is a certain type of cruelty that I have experienced only a few times in my long life, and Evelyn possesses it.
Even after I knew she left them with the intention of me finding them, I must admit that I read every single one.
It was not my proudest moment, and I apologize for doing so.
But once I started, it proved rather difficult to stop.
I used to think that my love for you was stronger than Leo’s.
But I see now that I was wrong. Humans, in all their untidy glory, are capable of emotion just the same as basilisks are.
If not more so. You taught me that, and I am forever grateful for the lesson.
It is because of these letters that I find myself understanding, finally, what I must do.