CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Maximus
The minutes passed slowly.
Maximus drank wine. By the time there was a knock on his door, he had a buzz. He opened it to see her standing here.
“Daphne,” he breathed.
She looked confused. He could understand that; he could only imagine how it had felt to be summoned to the castle after what happened in the town square.
“What am I doing here, Maximus?”
“I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Daphne motioned at herself. “I’m fine.”
“I don’t mean physically.”
Daphne pursed her lips. She didn’t reply.
Maximus decided not to push her. Her well-being was not the only reason he had brought her here.
“Won’t you come in?” He gestured inside his bedroom.
Daphne hesitated. He could hardly blame her for being wary.
He waited patiently while Daphne stood there.
Eventually she came in, and Maximus closed the door behind her.
He expected her to sit in one of the armchairs by the fire, but instead she crossed her arms and peered at his bookshelf.
Maximus watched her as she moved slowly along it, her head tilted in thought.
He wanted to ask her whether she liked to read, but didn’t actually care about the answer.
Instead he simply watched her as she looked at the books, savoring the way she existed in his environment.
Finally, she turned to him. “Does your father know I’m here?”
“No.”
“Hm.”
He gestured at the bar cart. “Would you like a drink?”
She walked over to him slowly, keeping eye contact as she did so. Only once she reached him did she say “Yes.”
Before he had a chance to pour her one, a tiny speck of movement caught his eye: a spider on the bar cart. Immediately Daphne leaned forward, grabbing a glass and placing it over the bug before sliding a coaster beneath it, carefully capturing it in a crystal cage. She turned away.
“What are you doing?” Maximus asked.
Daphne paused. “I’m putting it outside.”
“Why not kill it?”
She raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Why would I kill it when I can just release it?”
“Because it might come back inside.”
She shrugged. “If it comes back inside, I’ll release it again.”
“Seems like a lot of work.”
“Less work than murder.”
“Murder? It’s a bug, Daphne. Not a human being.”
“It’s sentient. It has thoughts and feelings and a family.”
Maximus didn’t know what to say to that. His expression must have betrayed him, because Daphne continued.
“In the village, we value life. I know what it means to kill another creature.”
“But it’s a bug, Daphne.”
“I am fully aware that it’s a bug. It may be smaller than me, but its life is no less important.”
Maximus crossed his arms. This was beginning to feel an awful lot like a lecture. “I understand the value of a life,” he snapped. “I’m not naive.”
Daphne stared at him. “You were raised in a castle, Max. Your food is prepared for you. The animal that provides your meat was killed by someone else. Your room is cleaned for you. Somebody probably dressed you this morning. You have no clue what it means to take a life, especially when it’s necessary to do so.
You have no idea what it means to survive. ”
“Nobody dressed me this morning.”
“Then someone picked your outfit.”
Maximus opened his mouth to argue but immediately closed it.
As much as it hurt to hear, it was the truth.
Someone had laid his outfit out on the bed.
His personal butler did it every evening so it was there when he woke up.
It was humiliating, Maximus realized. Why the fuck did he allow it?
He would tell his staff to cease the practice immediately.
There wasn’t much else he could do—it’s not like he could start killing cows—but his clothing, at least, he could control.
Daphne held the glass and the coaster out to him. “See how you like holding another creature’s life in your hands.”
Maximus knew Daphne wanted him to show mercy—to do what she, in her opinion, considered the right thing.
The spider was frozen in place, as if waiting for him to make his decision—as if giving him an opportunity to think this through.
Part of him wanted to make Daphne proud.
Truth be told, he wanted that more than anything.
Maximus took the glass. Then he hesitated.
He could not change his inherent nature.
He’d been raised at the top of the food chain, and Daphne was right—he did not know what it meant to survive.
Perhaps the only thing to do when presented with such a situation was to follow his instincts.
The world they lived in existed because of people like Maximus.
His family was responsible for the hierarchical structure of their society, and he specifically benefited from it.
If he started showing mercy now, he would be breaking generations of tradition.
Or he could choose a different way.
Perhaps no human being should hold another creature’s life in their hands. But if one were to do it, the girl before him was capable of the task. Maximus handed the glass gently back to Daphne.
“Your hands are the only ones I trust a life in.”
Daphne smiled. “Careful, Max,” she whispered. “One day they might hold yours.”
He could only hope.
Maximus watched as she carried the glass to the window, opened it, and let the spider crawl away. Maximus turned back to the bar cart.
He was halfway through pouring her a white wine when he heard: “What happened to you?”
Maximus glanced over his shoulder. Daphne was staring at him with her brow furrowed.
“What do you mean?”
Her face had fallen; she looked upset. “Your neck,” she whispered.
It took him a moment to understand what she was referring to. She was seeing him from behind; the back of his neck would be visible to her.
“It’s nothing,” he said.
“It doesn’t look like nothing. It looks like you’re hurt.”
“I’m not hurt.”
“Max,” she said quietly. “Let me see.”
He shook his head.
“Max,” Daphne said again, reaching for him. “Please.”
Wordlessly, he dipped his head forward.
“Kora…” Daphne whispered but trailed off.
He could only imagine what she was thinking.
She would have seen plenty of scars in her lifetime—the villagers lived hard lives; surely there were always wounds to tend to.
But the scars Daphne was familiar with would be jagged and rough—injuries that were a natural consequence of farm work and manual labor.
The scars on Maximus were nothing like that.
His were surgically precise: two on one side of his spine and one on the other, each of them exactly two inches long. It was no accidental injury.
A long, silent moment passed. Daphne placed her palms flat on his shoulder blades, and Maximus stayed perfectly still as her fingers curled around the collar of his shirt, pulling it down to expose the entirety of the scars.
“Who did this to you?” Daphne whispered.
There was no point in hiding it. “My father.”
Her grip on his collar tightened. “Your father?”
“It’s called the Cutting. Every prince goes through it before they become king.”
She relinquished his collar with one hand, touching only the tip of her finger to the scar on the left.
The feel of her skin against his was like a lightning strike down his spine.
Daphne traced down it slowly, and all Maximus could picture was her tracing down his cock.
He wanted to turn around, grab her face, and kiss her.
He wanted to push her onto his bed and never let her leave.
“Why three cuts?”
“I am the third in my line.”
She dropped her hand. Maximus turned around slowly. They were standing mere inches apart. “Did it hurt?”
The memory of the Cutting was not something Maximus liked to think about. That day had been one of the worst of his life. There was no way to reduce it to words, so he simply said, “Yes.”
Daphne bit her lip. “Will you do it to Lilly?”
He shook his head again. “It is only for the men.”
She nodded. It seemed like she was thinking hard about something, and Maximus wondered what it was. Was this a way to soften her toward him? If she pitied him for the Cutting, it meant she cared. It was a start.
Without a word, Maximus turned, finished pouring her drink, and handed it to her. He poured himself a red wine, taking a long sip before crossing to the armchairs by the fire. After a moment, Daphne followed.
“We kissed tonight,” he said once they were both settled.
Daphne took a large sip of her wine. “I know. I was there.”
A pause. Then Maximus prompted her. “Well?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Well, what?”
“Did you enjoy it?”
Her mouth fell open. Maximus knew she wasn’t used to him speaking so bluntly. He was hardly used to it himself. But there were moments in one’s life that lent themselves to honesty, and Maximus understood he was living through one right now. There was no more time to hide behind his fear.
“Did you?”
“You know I did. Now answer the question.”
Daphne pursed her lips. She was going to make this difficult. Like she always did. Maximus decided to wait her out, leaning back in an exaggerated show of nonchalance. He crossed his legs, taking a casual sip of wine. Finally, Daphne said, “It…wasn’t horrible.”
Maximus let out a laugh. “Am I to consider that praise?”
“I wouldn’t categorize it as such.”
He leaned in. “You liked it. Admit it.”
“Is this why you called me here? To interrogate me about our kiss? It was just a kiss, Maximus. I’m sure you’ll have many more.”
“I only want them with you.”
Daphne shot him a skeptical look. He could understand her hesitancy—they had an arrangement, after all. But his heart was changing direction, and he no longer had the strength to stop it.
“The villagers don’t share your opinion.”
Maximus knew they were both still thinking about what the men had chanted. If he could have them all killed for it, he would. “The villagers do not sway me.”
“Maybe they should.”
“Only I control my heart.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
Her skepticism only grew; he could see the doubt and confusion in her eyes. Her response was so quiet he barely heard it. “You don’t mean that.”
“Of course I do.”
He could tell by her expression that she was surprised—he was almost surprised he’d had the courage to say it. But he was done hiding.
“What about our arrangement?”
“The terms have changed.”
“The terms can’t just change,” Daphne cried. “I have to agree to them.”
“Then agree to them.”
“Agree to what? You having feelings for me? You said you weren’t ready to be with anyone. You said you were still in love with Lilibet.”
It felt strange to hear Daphne say her name. But not necessarily bad.
“You don’t really want me, Max,” she continued quietly, the space between them shrinking with every moment. “You want her.”
“I do want her. And I miss her. I will always love Lilibet.”
Daphne raised her eyebrows but didn’t interrupt.
“But Lilibet is not here. She will never be here again. I must think of my own future and the future of the kingdom.”
Daphne regarded him with an expression he couldn’t quite interpret. Maximus had no idea what was going through her mind.
He could only say what was on his. “I understand this is sudden, and you may be surprised. But I need you to know that my feelings have changed. I want to pursue you, and I want you to be my wife. If you wish to simply proceed with our arrangement, I will understand. But I hope you will consider otherwise.”
Daphne simply stared at him. Maximus couldn’t stand her silence. This was a moment of reckoning for them, and he would not be dissuaded from it.
“Daphne,” he said quietly. “Tell me I am not alone in this.”
Her expression was tight, her jaw clenched. She shook her head. “Maximus,” she said just as quietly. “I can’t give you what you seek.”
Maximus refused to believe that was true. His feelings for her were so great—so debilitating—it was not possible that he felt them alone. “In that case I will wait,” he said. “Until you are ready.”
She stared at him. He stared right back.
Before tonight, Maximus might have been scared to have such a conversation. Before tonight, he might have been too much of a coward to tell her how he felt. But Lilibet had taught him that life was short. He wanted a future, and he wanted it with Daphne.
“I think I should go,” she said.
Maximus was not deterred. He knew it would take time for her to come around. She had no reason to believe his feelings were genuine until he proved to her that they were.
“Very well,” he said.
“You’re not going to try to kiss me again?”
He smiled. “No.”
“Or fuck me?”
“Not tonight.”
Daphne stared at him suspiciously. He knew she was wary of him. He would prove it to her slowly, if that’s what it took.
“Shall I find you a carriage?”
She was still staring at him, still incredulous. But she nodded.
As soon as she was safely inside the carriage, his feet took him back through the castle, out over the patio, and into the maze.
Somehow he made it through without getting lost, his childhood memory guiding him through the twists and turns with perfect ease.
On the other side was a clearing that housed the family crypt.
After that, far in the distance, was the village.
He stared down at the little cottages, lit against the winter chill.
Daphne was down there somewhere. Perhaps she was sitting by the fire or eating dinner or about to set out with friends.
Maximus knew nothing of her personal life, he realized.
He did not know whether she took her steak rare or if she liked mushrooms or if she slept in on the weekends. He made a mental note to ask her.
If he was to create his future, he would do it without the help of his father.