CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Daphne
Kronos was across the ballroom by the time Daphne caught up to him.
She grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop. “Where are you going?”
“Anywhere but here.”
“Please don’t leave me alone,” she pleaded. The thought of enduring the rest of this evening without him was unbearable.
“If I stay,” Kronos said deliberately, his voice low, “I am going to do something I regret.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you must let me go, Daphne. Right now.”
Daphne stared up at him. Smoke was curling from his shoulders. His eyes were turning black. The air smelled acrid; the torches on the walls began to dim. Every animal instinct screamed at her to run. “Are—are you about to—?”
“Let me go, Daphne.”
Daphne let him go, realizing only once they were no longer touching that his skin had been burning hot. She watched him stalk down the hallway, out the front door, and into the night. His feet left a trail of singed footprints on the floor.
Just then, someone grabbed her elbow. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Veronica.
“Nowhere,” Daphne said. “I was just…”
There was no acceptable answer—no way to put her experience into words. Daphne was worried. And panicked. And wishing everything were not so complicated. These were not things she could explain to the baker’s daughter.
“Well, get back in here,” Veronica insisted. “The prince is eliminating a girl tonight. There’s about to be a ceremony.”
Daphne didn’t give a damn. Still, she knew she had to stay.
Maximus was angry at Kronos. He could retaliate by eliminating her.
Kronos still needed her in this—still needed her to win.
Would it be enough that Maximus wanted to sleep with her?
If it wasn’t, tonight might be her last night in the competition.
The thought filled her with dread. She hadn’t come this far just to lose now.
With a sigh, Daphne followed Veronica back into the ballroom.
The crowd was parting, but not for them.
Caspenon was headed in their direction, followed closely by Constance, who looked slightly put-out.
His fiery gaze found Daphne’s, and her skin immediately erupted in sweat.
He was coming straight toward her. By the time he reached her, Daphne had no bravery left.
Caspenon’s eyes narrowed. “Where is Kronos?”
Daphne spoke as calmly as she could manage. “He left.”
A chill ran down Daphne’s spine as Caspenon’s eyes narrowed even further.
All serpents were scary in some way, but Caspenon was by far the most terrifying basilisk she had ever encountered.
His intensity pierced her like a spear. When he looked at her, it was as if he were seeing inside her. Not even Kronos looked at her that way.
“Where?”
Daphne shook her head. “I don’t know.”
To her absolute terror, Caspenon stepped closer, put his hands on her shoulders, and gripped her so tightly she winced. “Are you lying to me?”
“No,” she gasped. “I don’t know where he went.”
Caspenon relinquished his grip. With one last lingering glance at her, he left. Daphne stood in shocked silence, the place where he’d grabbed her still throbbing.
Veronica stood next to her, watching with her mouth open. “What’s his deal?”
Daphne shook her head again. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“I wish he were my teacher,” she sighed wistfully. “He seems like he knows how to fuck.”
Caspenon was the last person Daphne wanted to fuck.
He would probably kill her if given the chance.
She closed her eyes in a fruitless attempt to ground herself.
When she opened them, Caspenon was already halfway to the front door.
For some reason, a knife of dread pressed into Daphne’s stomach.
She felt a sudden, wild urge to follow him.
Just as she had taken a step in his direction, a loud voice said, “Will the young ladies kindly gather around?”
The king was motioning to the other end of the ballroom, where a space was being cleared.
Wordlessly, Daphne turned away from Caspenon and followed Veronica to the clearing.
Maximus stood in the middle, a short marble column before him.
On top of it was a single bloodred rose.
His eyes found Daphne’s, holding her gaze as she approached.
She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Was he angry?
Or did he merely view the evening’s events as part of the thrill of the chase as he so eloquently put it?
For her sake, she hoped it was the latter.
“My son will hand the rose to his top choice,” the king continued. “The recipient of the rose will win a date with the prince.”
Daphne stared at Maximus. He stared back at her.
She couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened in the meeting with Kronos, how Maximus had seemed to figure out how they felt about each other.
Would he hold it against her now? Or would he use it as motivation to fight for her even harder?
Daphne didn’t even know which she preferred.
Part of her wanted Maximus to give up. It would certainly make it easier to pursue Kronos.
Yet the other part of her knew she had to advance in the competition—that if possible, she had to win.
Kronos himself was the one who insisted she keep going.
Now she could see why. Caspenon was dangerous and clearly unstable.
If the other Drakons were anything like him, it wasn’t safe for them to remain in power.
Daphne’s stomach twisted as she remembered the fire in Caspenon’s eyes. Kronos wasn’t safe.
Maximus stepped forward, twirling the rose between his long, slender fingers.
He walked along the line of women, his eyes never leaving Daphne’s.
For a sudden moment, she wondered if he would give it to someone else simply to make a point.
She wouldn’t put it past him. Maximus’s currency was deception—he lived to manipulate.
It was his way of navigating the world, and Daphne would not be surprised if he utilized it now.
She thought of what he’d said to Kronos: Compliment her again and I will have your head.
The prince was petty—he did not possess restraint.
Maximus stopped in front of Daphne.
The ballroom went silent; surely this was not the result the royals or the villagers expected.
Nobody made a sound as Maximus knelt before her, holding up the rose.
Daphne wondered if he was imitating a proposal on purpose—testing her, forcing her to see what could happen between them if she let it.
“Daphne,” he murmured. “Will you go on a date with me?”
From this angle, Daphne was reminded of the way he’d looked in the bathroom, staring up at her after she’d finished her bath. How long ago that seemed now. She reached for the rose but stopped.
Something was happening to the lingerie—it was overheating, tightening, burning as if made of fire.
Daphne squirmed in her dress, trying to keep it from touching her skin.
What was Kronos doing? Was it a punishment for the way Maximus had acted earlier?
Did Kronos suspect they’d gone further than they had?
She dispelled the thought. Kronos had never treated her vindictively and Daphne refused to believe he would begin to do so now.
Something was wrong—something was happening to him.
Just as she was about to forgo Maximus altogether and flee to find Kronos, the heat stopped abruptly.
Daphne froze, her hand still outstretched, suddenly terrified in its absence.
For better or worse, whatever was just happening to Kronos was now over.
Maximus was still kneeling, still looking up at her. “Daphne.”
She stared down at the rose in his hand.
If she took it, she was still in the game.
She could still help Kronos; she could keep him safe.
There was no other option. Daphne reached for the rose, deliberately holding it so that her fingers avoided the thorns.
Somehow they pricked her anyway. Augustus glared at her as Maximus stood.
He towered over her as he angled his head and whispered in her ear, “The date can be anything you want. My only wish is to spend time with you.” He turned and walked away.
The prince’s words did not match the way he had acted mere minutes ago.
It would appear that Maximus was choosing to be nice to her.
That was for the best, although Daphne didn’t fully trust it.
None of it mattered anyway. She had to get out of here; the lingerie was growing warm again, but this time it was irregular, flashing in and out like a weak pulse.
The fluctuations in temperature were unbearable; it grew suddenly so hot that her skin nearly burned before cooling down to what felt like ice.
Daphne caught the first carriage away from the castle, already ripping at the pearls.
She would get home. She would get out of this lingerie.
Then she would go straight to the caves to check on Kronos.
By the time she pulled up to her cottage, the pearls were burning again.
Daphne stumbled through the kitchen, trying not to wake her mother in the process.
The moment she opened her bedroom door, the lingerie went cold once more.
Daphne gasped in relief. Then she gasped again as she saw that her window was wide open, the curtains moving in the frigid autumn breeze. Someone was lying in her bed.
Kronos.
He was lying on his stomach, his head facing away from her.
The sight of the majestic basilisk sprawled over her simple linen sheets was more than enough to render Daphne speechless.
Then panic set in. Her mother was mere feet away—her bedroom was just on the other side of Daphne’s. What was Kronos doing here?
Daphne wondered wildly whether he was dead. Then she saw the steady rise and fall of his chest—so slow it was easy to miss it. She stepped tentatively closer and poked him on his shoulder.
He didn’t stir.