CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Maximus
Maximus raked his eyes over Daphne’s basilisk.
The snake was intimidatingly tall—with long, wavy hair worn loose over his shoulders.
His proud posture only accentuated his height.
Maximus straightened, studying the basilisk’s face, which was a tight mask of concern.
What could he possibly have to be worried about?
Daphne was in first place. He should be happy his student was winning the competition.
Maximus had met with several basilisks already tonight, and none of them looked as troubled as this one did.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then the prince extended his hand, and the basilisk took it.
“What is your name?” Maximus asked.
“Kronos,” the snake answered stiffly.
Maximus nodded. There was no need to introduce himself; Kronos already knew who he was. Even if he didn’t, there was no point in exchanging pleasantries with a snake. They dropped their hands, appraising each other. For some reason, Daphne looked terrified.
“Well?” Maximus asked without preamble. “How is she doing?”
Kronos rolled his shoulders. “You tell me.”
Maximus’s eyes slid to Daphne’s. “I wouldn’t know,” he said.
A long pause followed. The snake seemed surprised by this information, which was baffling to Maximus. Surely Daphne was in communication with her teacher.
Kronos looked down at her. “Is that truly the case?”
She jutted her lip defiantly in a look Maximus knew quite well. “Yes.”
For some inexplicable reason, Kronos looked pleased.
“I see,” the snake replied, his gaze flicking back to Maximus. “And yet she is still in the competition.”
“Yes. She is.”
“In that case, may I inquire as to why you have not eliminated her?”
Between them, Daphne was fidgeting. Maximus had never seen her so antsy.
“She’s…useful in other ways.”
The snake frowned. “In what other ways?”
Maximus debated how much to tell him. He had no guarantee that Daphne hadn’t already told her basilisk about their pact. But that was absurd. They were student and teacher, nothing more. He very much doubted she would confide in her mentor.
Maximus decided to remain as subtle as possible. “There’s a thrill to the chase, isn’t there?”
A loaded pause followed.
“Yes,” Kronos said slowly. “I suppose there is.”
Something about the way he said it made a sliver of anger pierce Maximus’s chest. Why would the snake agree with him on that particular point? He hadn’t said it so they could commiserate. Chasing Daphne was supposed to be his task alone. Maximus had no interest in sharing her.
Daphne cleared her throat. “If there’s nothing else—”
But Maximus was not so eager to end this conversation. He cut her off sharply. “How does she compare to your other students?”
Daphne no longer looked terrified. Now she looked downright angry.
Kronos took a long time before answering. During the silence he looked at Daphne, who looked back at him with an expression Maximus did not understand. If he didn’t know better, he would think they were reading each other’s minds.
“She is…exceptional,” Kronos said finally.
Something about the way he said it gave Maximus pause.
The admission almost seemed as if it pained him.
To Maximus, it was merely a fact. Of course Daphne was exceptional.
Even a basilisk who had trained dozens of women was bound to notice that Daphne was unlike all the others.
Exceptional was the very least that she was.
At the snake’s word, Daphne smiled, and a hot thread of jealousy pierced Maximus’s chest. She was pleased. She cared what the snake thought of her. Kronos approved of Daphne, and that fact made her happy. How extraordinary. How detestable.
“And has she satisfied you?” Maximus snapped.
Silence fell. He watched as a muscle ticked in the snake’s jaw.
If he didn’t know better, Maximus could have sworn the question bothered him.
But why should it? He’d asked the same of all the other basilisks—it was an appropriate thing to ask of every woman in the competition.
It was his right as the prince to inquire about their performance.
They were competing for his hand in marriage, after all.
He had to know whether they were worthy of it.
Kronos did not speak for a long time. When he finally did, it was two simple words:
“She has.”
The moment he said them, something passed between Daphne and the snake—an unspoken bond that Maximus was not privy to.
His jealousy sharpened into a knife. Maximus tried to ignore it, but it was impossible.
This snake before him had had the privilege of touching Daphne—of having sex with her—something Maximus could only dream of doing.
And dream he did. In the cold hours of the night when the castle was asleep and dawn was still far off, he dreamed of her.
He pictured her in his bed, on her back, on top of him, on all fours.
He pictured having her every which way he could because he knew it was the only way to have her.
He pictured her because he couldn’t bear to picture anyone else.
Maximus crossed his arms, looking the snake right in the eye. “What is she exceptional at?”
Kronos blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“You said she’s exceptional.” Maximus drew the word out. “So what is she exceptional at specifically?”
Kronos stared at him. He didn’t answer.
“Don’t be shy. Tell me.”
Beside them, Daphne had gone still. She was no longer fidgeting, no longer antsy. Now she was watching Maximus with fear in her eyes. He knew she could sense the change in his tone—they were close enough for that, at least.
“Is it the way she fucks? Gives head? Takes orders? What is it that makes her such an exceptional student?”
“Max,” Daphne whispered. “Don’t—”
“Silence,” Maximus snapped. She was weaponizing his feelings for her—using his nickname to soften him. It would not work this time. Maximus raised his hand slowly, pointing a single finger at Kronos. “Tell me.”
Kronos stared at him. He could not tell what the snake was thinking, but he knew from his expression that it was murderous. And he no longer cared. Maximus needed to control the situation—to let this monster know who was in charge.
It was a long moment before Kronos spoke. Finally, he said, “She is exceptional at everything.”
Maximus shook his head. “Too general. Be specific.”
Kronos clenched his jaw. “She…” He looked once more at Daphne, who looked back at him.
Before he could stop himself, Maximus snapped his fingers between them. “Do not look at her,” he cried. “Look at me.”
They both looked at him.
“She is exceptional at giving head,” Kronos said in a monotone.
Daphne blushed at his words. Maximus tried to wrangle the fierce jealousy that threatened to overtake him, but it was no use.
He could not believe this snake had had its cock down her throat—when he himself had not—that a fucking monster reaped the reward of her affection.
It was unacceptable. It was a fucking sin.
“In that case,” Maximus said slowly, speaking only once when he was sure he could do so without yelling, “it sounds like I’ve got something to look forward to, haven’t I?”
Beside him, Daphne’s hands balled into fists. Maximus could not understand why she was angry. He was the one being made a fool of. She shared some sort of bond with her teacher—something sick and twisted and wrong. There had to be punishment for it.
Kronos’s next words were sharp: “Only if that is what Daphne chooses.”
A horrible silence fell. Then Maximus whispered, “I beg your pardon?”
“It is the truth, is it not?”
If Maximus were drunker, he would have punched him. As it was, he retained just enough impulse control to say, “You are alone with the woman I care about more often than I am. You are preparing her for me. It is well within my rights to expect more from her.”
“There is no reason to expect more if you are satisfied with her performance thus far.”
Everything in Maximus told him to step away—to retreat. But he could not retreat; this was too important. This was Daphne. “It’s not her performance that I’m interested in. It’s her.”
At his words, a tremor seemed to pass through Kronos.
Maximus had never seen a basilisk lose control before.
But he was quite sure he was about to witness it now.
Fear flowed down his spine as his fight-or-flight instinct urged him to get to safety.
Despite this, Maximus leaned in, every cell in his body screaming in protest as he said, “You had better kiss the ground she walks on. Otherwise I will bury you in it.”
Kronos did not reply. His fists were clenched at his sides in an exact mirror of Maximus’s.
They were standing mere inches apart. All it would take was a single movement from either of them to break the tension.
Instead they surveyed each other, and Maximus forced himself to stare straight into the basilisk’s terrifying golden eyes.
If Kronos chose to use his true form right now, Maximus would be helpless against him.
It would certainly be a first: a petrified prince, slain before he could choose his wife.
Perhaps that’s what Kronos wanted. With Maximus out of the picture, he would have Daphne all to himself.
He could take her under the mountain and keep her there forever without recourse.
Augustus certainly wouldn’t go after her.
She would never be seen again. This train of thought only strengthened Maximus’s resolve.
He was in danger. But it was worth it to protect Daphne.
“I would never hurt her,” Kronos whispered. “She is irreplaceable.”