CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Caspen
Tonight was one of the most important nights of the competition.
It would be Caspen’s only opportunity to find out if it would be possible to change the tide in his favor.
Tonight, the basilisks and their students met with the prince to see if he had feedback, to see if they could course correct and gain his favor.
He had been on edge as he walked with the other basilisks, but it was nothing compared to how he felt now.
As soon as they had arrived, Caspen had watched as Kronos trailed through the ballroom, clearly looking for someone.
Caspen stood to the side, his eyes narrowed as the Seneca searched the crowd.
Eventually, he came to a stop. A girl emerged.
She was wearing a velvet dress that was cinched at the waist, her hair cascading over her shoulders in a waterfall of curls.
Daphne. Caspen moved closer, ignoring the short, impertinent humans around him as he pushed toward Kronos.
He watched as the Seneca approached Daphne, holding out his hand.
Ice slid down Caspen’s spine. He was asking her to dance.
Daphne regarded Kronos with surprise, then eventual acceptance.
She placed her hand in his and they crossed to the center of the ballroom.
Caspen wanted to close his eyes, to ignore the abomination happening before him.
The way they danced told Caspen everything he needed to know.
Kronos held Daphne tenderly, spinning her around with undeniable care.
He was a good dancer; all basilisks were.
Despite himself, Caspen had to admit they looked beautiful together.
But this was not done. Kronos was putting himself at risk.
He was putting his entire quiver at risk.
And most of all—considering he clearly loved her—he was putting Daphne at risk.
Kronos’s feelings were not the only problem.
The human prince would not take kindly to finding out that one of his potential future wives had a basilisk suitor.
Caspen wished wildly that there was some sort of law against this, that he could turn Kronos in to the council and they would punish him accordingly.
But it was not illegal to love a human. It was merely rare, and rarity was not a punishable offense.
Still, Caspen knew Kronos had gone too far.
It was time to act. Caspen watched as Kronos took Daphne’s face in his hands.
Caspen’s heart nearly stopped. Was he about to kiss her?
He approached quickly, tracking their movements through the crowd the same way he would track prey. As soon as he was close, Kronos’s eyes met his. He tensed. Daphne glanced questioningly up at Kronos, then at Caspen. By the time he reached them, they had stopped dancing and turned to face him.
Kronos stood between him and Daphne. Caspen stared at Daphne.
Something glinted at her shoulder—a delicate strap that caught the light.
He squinted, attempting to see it better.
Then his heart stopped. It could not be.
Kronos would not have dared to give her such a thing.
The moment Daphne saw where he was looking, she adjusted herself so the strap was once more hidden. Caspen’s gaze snapped away.
“Kronos,” he said.
“Caspenon.”
Kronos was standing tall—nearly as tall as Caspen. It reminded him of the way he had straightened when Caspen had asked why he wanted to watch the village. He was defensive. Protecting her. Caspen dropped his voice so that no one would overhear him ask, “What is the meaning of this?”
Kronos straightened even more. “What is the meaning of what?”
“This.” Caspenon gestured between Kronos and Daphne.
“I do not know what you mean.”
“I mean.” Caspenon stepped even closer. The Seneca stiffened. “I know you watched the Showing.”
Beside Kronos, Daphne frowned; perhaps she was unaware of his feelings for her. By the way his hand was wrapped around her waist, she had to have some idea. No woman could be so obtuse, even a human.
“You should be careful,” Caspen said. “It is not wise to—”
“Daphne.” Kronos spoke over him suddenly. “Leave us.”
Now Daphne looked even more surprised. “But I—” she began.
Kronos cut her off. “Daphne.”
All three of them waited in bated silence.
Daphne stared up at Kronos, clearly trying to understand what was going on.
Caspen wished she would just obey her teacher.
Finally, she did, disappearing into the crowd in a flourish of curls.
The moment she was gone, Caspen said, “I saw what you gave her. It is you who should remember your place.”
Kronos’s eyes narrowed. “What I gave her is none of your concern.”
“It is my concern when it threatens the future of our people. Involvement with a human is blasphemous.”
“Our people?” Kronos scoffed. “Your concern lies only with the future of your own quiver.”
“That is not true,” Caspen insisted. “Anything that affects my quiver affects us all.”
“I have done nothing to affect your quiver or our people.”
“Of course you have. And you must undo it.”
“How?”
“Drop out of the competition. Leave her.”
Kronos let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Even if I could leave her, I would not. And if you think I would drop out at your behest, you are delusional. She is winning. If I drop out, I forfeit my chance at the throne.”
“You do not understand. I am trying to protect you.” Caspen did not mention that he was trying to protect Kronos from himself.
“I do not need your protection.”
Caspen shook his head. This was unbelievable. He was running out of words to express himself. “You must stop whatever it is you think you have with her. This infatuation must end.”
“It is not an infatuation.”
“Then what is it? Love?”
Kronos did not answer. He did not need to. Caspen knew love when he saw it. He knew the way his brother looked at Harmony. Love was a cruel master. It made you a slave.
“You will regret this,” Caspen hissed.
Kronos just shook his head. “She is worth it.”
“How can she be? She is a human.”
“She is everything.”
Now Caspen shook his head. Kronos was the delusional one. This was an unprecedented situation, and it would have terrible repercussions for them all.
“Do you understand the position you put me in? I am the son of the Serpent King. I have a duty to my father, as do you.”
“Your father”—Kronos spoke the word as if it were a curse—“cares only for his own quiver.”
“That is not true,” Caspen said automatically.
“Ah, but it is.”
Caspen pursed his lips. He was right; his father hated the Senecas. He would stop at nothing to keep them beneath him. “This is not about my father.” Caspen shook his head. “You forsake your future.”
“She is my fucking future.”
Before Caspen could reply, Kronos turned and was gone.
Caspen stared after him in shock, unwilling to process what had just happened. Was the Seneca insane? He had a death wish, surely. The moment the human prince found out that Kronos had feelings for his top pick, he would be dead—taken for bloodletting or worse.
Caspen shuddered at the thought. He could only pity Kronos. The man was deranged, and it would be his downfall. He watched as the basilisk reunited with Daphne before a butler ushered them through a door at the end of the ballroom.
“I have never seen a teacher dance with their student before,” a voice mused from behind Caspen.
Caspen did not bother turning around. He could sense Rowe from here.
“Rather peculiar, would you not agree?” Rowe continued.
Unfortunately Caspen did agree. Peculiar was the least offensive word that could be used to describe what Kronos and Daphne were doing. It was not good that Rowe had noticed them together.
“Their business is their own.”
It was the opposite stance he had just taken with Kronos. But he did not want Rowe involved with this. Caspen would handle it in his own way.
“Such business is dangerous,” Rowe said quietly. “It must be eradicated.”
Caspen finally turned to him. “What are you saying?”
“If he is a problem,” Rowe said quietly, “perhaps we should do something about it.”
Caspen did not like his tone. Or his use of the word we. It implied that they were allies, and nothing could be further from the truth. “We will do nothing.”
Rowe held his gaze. “Perhaps you will do nothing. I may take matters into my own hands.”
Dread pressed against Caspen’s chest. He knew exactly how Rowe would take matters into his own hands.
It did not matter that they were both Senecas; anyone in Rowe’s way was in danger.
As much as Caspen did not approve of Kronos’s relationship with Daphne, he could not allow him to be killed for it.
He needed him alive for what he was planning to do.
“You would kill your own kind?”
Rowe’s mouth twitched. “Not exactly.”
Realization slid over Caspen slowly. Rowe was not referring to Kronos. He was referring to Daphne.
“That is unwise,” Caspen said. “It would violate the truce.”
“Only if I take her life.”
“What else is there to do?”
Rowe smiled. The sight sent a chill down Caspen’s spine. “Inflict pain.”
Caspen suppressed a shiver. He hated humans as much as the next basilisk. But this was too far. Daphne was the prince’s top pick; if Rowe harmed her, they could face another war.
“You cannot do that.”
Rowe shrugged. “I have done nothing yet.”
Yet. A word Caspen was not pleased to hear.