CHAPTER FOUR
Daphne
Daphne knew the first event at the castle was tonight.
Daphne knew it because everyone knew it.
It had been the talk of the village for the past few months, and now it was finally happening.
Everywhere Daphne went, she heard whispers of what could occur, excited musings about who the prince might pick and why.
Daphne did not share the other villagers’ excitement.
She had no desire to be in the village, to hear the harried whispers of bystanders.
She could only think about what had happened in the caves.
Was Kronos angry with her? Daphne didn’t understand the basilisk.
He didn’t act like anyone she’d ever met before.
He was obviously powerful and clearly felt things intensely.
Daphne could relate to that last trait, even if she wished she couldn’t.
The more pressing issue was what he’d told her about the prince: If you are not willing to fuck him, you must find another way to win.
Daphne had no clue what that way could possibly be.
All the other girls would be throwing themselves at the prince from the moment they arrived at the castle.
Daphne would stand no chance against such temptation.
Too soon, it was evening.
Daphne wrapped up her sewing reluctantly before helping her mother make dinner.
She wouldn’t be eating it herself; the invitation she’d received earlier this week stated explicitly that food would be served at the castle.
She had no idea what sort of food it might be.
She’d never even seen the castle up close, much less been to an event there.
She could only assume the food would be fancier than the stew and bread she was used to eating every night at home.
Finally she left her mother at the table and retreated to her bedroom.
Daphne had been so preoccupied with passing the time that she hadn’t given a single thought to what she was supposed to wear.
One glance at her wardrobe told her she owned nothing suitable whatsoever.
All her clothes were practical; most of the villagers’ were.
There would be very few girls who had access to garments that were worthy of a night among royals.
Daphne crossed her arms, tapping her foot nervously.
What the hell was she supposed to do? As if the dress issue wasn’t bad enough, her hair was another matter entirely.
Unruly, curly, impossible. Utterly wrong for a formal event.
Before she could make a decision, her eye caught something on her bed.
She frowned. She’d been home all day. How was there a package in her bedroom?
She stepped forward slowly, eyeing it with caution.
It was the size of a hatbox, wrapped in black paper and bound with black ribbon.
Taking the package in her hands, she turned it over to look for a return address or a card of some kind.
There was none. She pulled the ribbon slowly, undoing the bow at the front.
The paper fell open to reveal the last thing she thought she would see: a dress.
The fabric was deep blue soft silk. It was a beautiful thing—certainly the fanciest item of clothing Daphne had ever seen, and she had seen many in her years as a seamstress. There was a note nestled between the folds of the wrapping paper.
Daphne,
If you wish, you may wear this to ensure you make a good impression—not that you need a dress to do that.
—K
Daphne stared at the note in disbelief. There was only one person who could have sent her this dress—only one K.
Kronos’s handwriting was elegant and refined, with tall, straight letters that reminded her instantly of him.
But it wasn’t his penmanship that left her speechless.
It was the letter itself. Was he…complimenting her?
If she didn’t need a dress to make a good impression, that meant she herself was capable of making one on her own.
She was hardly sure she’d even made a good impression on Kronos.
The way their last meeting had ended, she’d walked out terrified she’d never see him again.
But basilisks couldn’t lie. That led her to believe he meant it.
And if that really was the case, that they couldn’t lie, why was her basilisk complimenting her?
He had no reason to do so. She wasn’t even sleeping with him, for Kora’s sake.
Although the note rather put her in the mood.
How did he get it here in the first place? Did Kronos know where she lived? Daphne’s eyes slid to the window on the other side of her bed. It was cracked open an inch. She smiled, brushing her fingertips over the silk of the dress, suddenly eager to try it on.
She did so slowly, waiting until the very last second to turn around and look at herself in her full-length mirror.
The sight was breathtaking—the dress looked as if it had been made specifically for her.
She wondered if it had. As a seamstress herself, she could only imagine the care and detail that had gone into such a piece.
It was impeccably cut, perfectly sewn. So perfect that Daphne couldn’t imagine how human hands could have created it.
Was it possible the dress had been made using…
magic? A shiver ran down her spine, and it had nothing to do with the open window.
Such a gift was priceless. Why would Kronos give it to her?
So you can make a good impression.
Her thoughts turned once more to the prince.
Daphne had no game plan for tonight, no strategy whatsoever.
She still didn’t understand why Kronos wanted her to compete, what could possibly be at stake for him.
Perhaps she would never know. All she knew was how afraid she’d felt last night.
She remembered the fire in his eyes as he berated her: I already told you. There will be consequences.
She had no desire to learn what those consequences might be. She straightened, squaring her shoulders. The dress was not a gift that showed his favor. He had given it to her so that she could make a good impression on the prince, and that was exactly what she would do.
By the time a carriage arrived to take her to the castle, Daphne had nearly come apart from nerves.
The ride was bumpy and endless, and she spent it staring determinedly out the window, her hands clasped in her lap.
The dress hadn’t come with a coat, and she was cold.
But she almost preferred the chill to the tangled mess of anxiety that sat in her stomach.
Daphne wondered whether the other women had gotten dresses or whether she would be the only one clothed by her basilisk.
Her question was answered mere minutes after she stepped foot inside the castle.
A robed man checked her name off a ledger before ushering her into an ornate ballroom lined with marble columns depicting Kora.
Daphne immediately saw Constance, one of her classmates; she wore a gown Daphne recognized as the same one she’d worn to the graduation ceremony for school.
A quick glance around the ballroom told Daphne that no one’s basilisk had dressed them.
She was the only one wearing anything remotely fancy.
She looked more like the royals than she did the villagers.
Before Daphne could decide what to do with that information, a butler appeared at her elbow.
“Champagne?” he prompted, holding up a shiny gold tray.
“Please,” Daphne said gratefully, taking a slim crystal glass and downing the contents in a single gulp. The butler raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Without another word, he took her empty glass, handed her a new one, and whisked the tray away. Daphne turned to face the crowd.
The ballroom was full of people—some villagers but mostly royals.
She could tell they were from faraway lands; furs draped their shoulders, and gold gleamed at their throats and fingers.
It wasn’t just the richness of the royal wardrobes that she found overwhelming.
Daphne had never seen so much food before.
The entire ballroom was lined with it—wooden boards of cured meats and cheeses, bowls of chocolates, and piles of dried fruit and nuts were crowded on long tables.
Daphne made an immediate beeline for a tiered chocolate cake that sat upon a golden plate.
She cast her gaze around for a knife to cut it, but before she could find one, a voice said,
“Where did you get that dress?”
Daphne didn’t need to turn to see who the voice belonged to. “Veronica,” she sighed. “How are you?”
Veronica ignored the question, leaning closer with a sneer.
Her hair was piled precariously on top of her heart-shaped face in a decidedly impressive updo.
Veronica was pickier in her exploits than Daphne, but she’d been serially dating someone since she was twelve, cycling through boyfriend after boyfriend with barely a week in between.
She probably had just as much sex as Daphne did, but she had hers while in a relationship.
All the girls at school were jealous of her.
Her lore was legendary: The prince had kissed her during a midsummer parade.
This was who Kronos expected her to compete with.
“I know you didn’t buy it,” Veronica sneered. “None of the shops in the village sell dresses like that one.”
Daphne was familiar with the type of dresses that were sold in the village, although she couldn’t remember the last time she went shopping for one. She only saw them when people handed them to her mother to mend.
“Did someone give it to you?” Veronica insisted. She had a glass of champagne in her hand, which sloshed dangerously with every word she said. “Or did you steal it, like you stole Alex?”