CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Maximus
All morning, Maximus was nervous.
He needed tonight to go well. Or at least, he needed it to not go terribly. He couldn’t stop thinking about his interaction with Daphne’s basilisk—how Kronos had looked at her as if he felt something for her.
Maximus could not allow it. He would win her back, and he would do so by being excruciatingly attentive.
The only way into her heart was to get her to trust him—to get her to care.
He would be vulnerable. He would make her feel at ease with him.
He would not let her gaze stray. He had an obligation and a desire to steer her in the right direction: toward him. He had to keep her safe.
Maximus spent the entire day in Lilly’s nursery, playing and reading aloud to her.
She was just beginning to make articulate noises, although real words were surely still far off.
Maximus had taken to saying amusing phrases to her in the hopes that she might repeat them: “Where is my wine?” “Daphne is very pretty.” “Augustus is a bad, ugly man.”
By the time it was late afternoon, he was standing in the foyer, watching the window to see when Daphne would arrive, too tense to even bother feeling pathetic about it.
When her carriage finally came into view he strode out to the driveway to greet her.
Daphne emerged wearing a long cloak, the hood pulled up over her voluminous hair.
At the sight of her concealed body, Maximus suddenly regretted telling her to wear something warm.
He should have taken her skinny-dipping for this date.
At least that would have been a chance to see her naked.
The moment she was in front of him, he extended his arm.
“Daphne. How are you?”
“Fine.” She took his arm. She stepped toward the castle, but he placed his hand over hers, holding her to him.
“This way,” he said simply.
Daphne frowned but followed him out to the stables, where a stunning black horse was waiting for them. It had a thick, wavy mane and a white, diamond-shaped patch on its forehead.
Maximus turned to her. “I promised you a horse ride.”
Daphne was rooted in place, staring at the horse. At first he thought she might not be pleased, and panic tightened his chest. Then a slow smile brightened her face.
“Really?” she whispered.
“Really.”
Daphne let out a delighted giggle. Maximus wanted to bottle the sound.
It brought him so much joy to make her happy—to see her smile and know he was the one to cause it.
He wanted to see that smile over and over again.
He would do anything to replicate it. Maximus watched as Daphne stepped forward, extending her hand slowly toward the horse.
When it nuzzled against her palm, her smile widened.
“She’s beautiful,” Daphne whispered.
She certainly was. “Shall I help you up?”
Daphne glanced at him and nodded.
Maximus took it as a good sign that she didn’t refuse his assistance. He extended his hand, guiding her to the side of the saddle.
“Hold that”—he pointed at the pommel—“and put your foot here”—he nodded at the stirrup—“and I will lift you the rest of the way.”
Daphne hesitated, but eventually, she placed her hand on the pommel.
He grabbed her waist as she stepped into the stirrup, hoisting her onto the saddle.
She went easily, letting out a tiny gasp when she was fully seated.
Maximus mounted right behind her, pulling himself up and settling in behind her.
If Daphne thought it was strange that they were sharing a horse, she didn’t say so.
There were plenty of horses in the stables; it would have been no trouble whatsoever to select two of them.
But Maximus had chosen one on purpose—to force proximity—to make it so that their bodies would be pressed together as they rode.
He did not care if it was crude. He wanted to touch her. And touch her he did.
He took the reins in one hand and wrapped his other around her waist, pulling her body close.
Daphne did not resist; she leaned back against him, both of her hands holding on to the pommel as Maximus nudged the horse into a gentle canter.
He took them along the trail that encircled the castle, ensuring they did not go too fast. The last thing he needed was Daphne falling off a horse during her very first ride.
By the time they reached the maze, the wind had picked up.
Maximus’s vision was suddenly full of curls as Daphne’s hood blew from her head.
He didn’t mind; her hair smelled like her.
Still, it wasn’t ideal conversation conditions.
He cast around for a good place to stop, settling on the clearing directly behind the maze.
Daphne shifted as the horse came to a halt.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Maximus thought about the last time he’d been here, when he’d looked out over the village and wondered what Daphne was doing.
Now he was here with her, and he decided to ask her one of the questions he’d thought of that night.
“How do you take your steak?”
Daphne let out an incredulous sound. “Why would you ask me that?”
“Because I don’t know nearly enough about you.”
“Perhaps that’s by design.”
“If it is, I didn’t consent to it.”
She giggled at that but didn’t reply.
“Daphne.” He gave her a little squeeze. “Tell me.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t eat a lot of steak.”
“Why not?”
“It’s…fancy…I guess.”
He smiled. “You could eat it anytime you like at the castle.”
“Are you going to cook it for me?”
Maximus frowned, realizing suddenly that he’d never cooked anything in his life, much less a steak. “I would have the kitchen cook it for you.”
“Hmm,” she said. Her displeasure was obvious.
“Would you prefer I cook it for you?”
“Yes.”
“Even if I’ve never cooked it before?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s about the gesture. It would show me that you care.”
“I care regardless of my cooking capabilities.”
As soon as he said it, he hoped that she believed it. There was a pause, and he thought she might debate him. Instead, she asked, “How do you take your steak?”
“Medium rare.”
“Is it good that way?”
“It’s exemplary.”
She shifted again, adjusting her position against his chest. Maximus stayed perfectly still as she did so, afraid if he made any move at all, she might push him away. He asked another question, if only to keep her here.
“What about mushrooms?”
Daphne craned her neck to look back at him. “What about them?”
“Do you like them?”
She made a face. “Why are you asking me such ridiculous questions?”
“They’re not ridiculous,” he insisted. “They’re informative.”
“What could possibly be informative about whether or not I like mushrooms?”
“It’s a way to get to know you.”
“If you want to get to know me, you could ask me something more interesting than my food preferences.”
“Such as?”
She turned away, facing the view once more. “I don’t know. Anything of substance.”
Maximus considered this parameter. He wasn’t used to having these types of conversations with women, although he found that he liked it. He’d certainly never asked Veronica anything of substance. He decided to start with the basics.
“Do you have any siblings?”
She shook her head, her curls brushing against his chin. “No. But my best friend is like my sister.”
“What is her name?”
“Gabriella. Ella for short.”
“Perhaps I could meet her someday.”
Daphne let out a light laugh.
“Why is that funny?”
“She thinks you’re a prat.”
Maximus had no idea whether to be offended or not. “Why would she think that? She’s never met me.”
“She’s seen you when you come to the village for events.”
“And that’s enough for her to decide I’m a prat?”
“Yes.”
Maximus shook his head in disbelief. It was absurd. “Do you think I’m a prat?”
Daphne shrugged easily, as if this were a natural question for him to ask. “I think you act like one sometimes.”
Maximus opened his mouth to retort but almost immediately closed it. At least she didn’t think he acted like a prat all the time. He figured he should take his wins where he could get them.
“In that case I shall endeavor to act…less…prat-like.”
“That would be nice.”
“But only if you tell your friend Ella that I’m mending my ways.”
“I’ll be sure to let her know.”
“Good.”
Maximus gathered the courage to ask his next question. “Don’t you want to ask me something of substance in return?”
He said it in the same teasing tone he’d used with her before.
But the question was genuine. Part of him was terrified that Daphne didn’t care.
Her ambivalence would hurt far more than any negative opinion she might have of him.
Maximus wanted nothing more than to have an opportunity to be vulnerable with her. The silence dragged on.
Just as he was losing hope, Daphne said, “Are you ready to be king?”
It wasn’t the question he expected. No one had ever asked him that before. Not even his own father. “Yes,” he said automatically.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. I have to be.”
“Just because you have to be ready for something doesn’t mean you actually are.”
She said it gently. Maximus knew she was right even if he wasn’t willing to admit it out loud. There was no option but to be ready for what was to come. Rather than respond, he asked her the thing he truly wished to know. “Do you think I will be a good king?”
“I don’t know,” Daphne said slowly. “I think…you’ll try.”
Maximus wanted a different answer from her. It wasn’t enough to simply try. He had a reputation to protect, a legacy to live up to. It was up to him to shepherd the kingdom into a new era of power. The responsibility was not something he could fail at.
Yet here in the presence of Daphne, he wondered just what kind of legacy he wanted to build. Certainly not one like his father’s. A better one. A kinder one. So he said, “For you, I will be a good king.”
“That would require you marrying me.”
“That is the plan.”
She shook her head. “Your father won’t allow it.”
“My father is not in charge of me.”
Daphne laughed.
“He isn’t,” Maximus insisted.