CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Daphne
Daphne ran all the way to the caves.
She didn’t care that she’d left Maximus alone in her bedroom.
She didn’t care that he’d probably read the letters Kronos wrote her, nor did she care that he had effectively removed her from the competition.
Her mother was already in bed; Daphne would not be missed.
The wine bottle was still in her hand and she chugged from it as she ran, not caring that rain had begun to fall, not caring that her boots were soaked through.
She was drunk and she was hurt and she could think of nowhere better to go for comfort.
At one point she fell, scraping her face against the exposed roots of a tree.
When she touched her fingers to her mouth, they came away bleeding.
The cave was empty when she arrived, the fireplace cold.
There was no tinder, no match. Perhaps Kronos lit it with his powers.
It didn’t matter. Daphne could cry just as easily in the dark.
So she did. She cried for the little girl who felt less-than, who thought she wasn’t worthy of anything more.
She cried for the version of herself who was under the bridge just weeks ago, hearing a boy tell her she was worthless.
She cried for her current self, who felt quite worthless indeed.
Why would I want a wife like you anyway?
A wife like her. Nothing but a hole to fuck and a mouth to come in.
That was what Benjamin thought of her. And Maximus too.
Only Kronos saw her as something valuable, something worthwhile.
Daphne sat alone in the darkness, drinking her wine and crying until she had no more tears.
Eventually, she called, “Kronos!”
No answer. It didn’t surprise her; she was surrounded by thick stone walls—surely no sound could get through. Daphne wasn’t even sure she wanted it to anyway.
“Kronos!” she cried again.
Still nothing. Eventually, she lay back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. The stone roof of the cave was rough and curved. For the first time, Daphne noticed veins of white granite laced through the stone. It was beautiful, she decided. A blend of darkness and light.
Eventually, she closed her eyes.
“Daphne?”
Her name came to her through a fog of restless sleep.
“Daphne?” the voice said again.
She opened her eyes to see Kronos leaning over her, his brow furrowed in concern.
His hair was dripping; it must still be raining outside.
Dirt was smeared across his bare chest, along with what looked suspiciously like blood.
With a jolt, she realized he was naked. He seemed to realize this at the same moment she did, covering his cock with his hand.
She’d already seen his cock—it had been down her throat for Kora’s sake—yet he remained respectful in her moment of crisis.
“You came,” she whispered.
Kronos reached for her, brushing her curls from her face. “Of course I did.”
Daphne tried to sit up but couldn’t. Her stomach was still swimming with wine, her head pounding with the imminence of hangover. She slumped back onto the stone, looking up at Kronos.
“Maximus and I got in a fight.”
A muscle in Kronos’s jaw twitched. His eyes went to her swollen lip. “Did he hurt you?”
“No.” She shook her head. Not physically.
“Do you wish to tell me what happened?”
“Not really.”
The answer came out harsh, but she’d meant it. Daphne was embarrassed about what had happened. She didn’t want Kronos to know what Maximus had said to her, and she especially didn’t want him to know how it had affected her. It was too revealing—too indicative of her shame.
“Daphne,” Kronos said. “Please, would you tell me what happened?”
He phrased it as a question instead of a command.
Rather than reply, Daphne bit her lip and immediately winced in pain. Kronos raised his hand, touching his fingertips to her mouth. A cool pulse passed from him to her, and she knew he was healing her lip. Daphne waited until he was done, then she whispered, “He got mad.”
Kronos frowned. “Why?” His voice was strained.
“Just…reasons,” she whispered.
“Daphne.” Kronos ran an exasperated hand through his wet hair, brushing it away from his face. “You show up here drunk and unannounced. You are injured. You say the prince got angry but you will not explain what happened to make him that way. Now, please. I cannot go on in suspense.”
Daphne sighed. “He read your letters.”
Shock, then comprehension passed over Kronos’s face. “I see,” he said quietly.
“He told me he has feelings for me,” she continued.
Kronos nodded but didn’t interject.
“And then I told him I didn’t feel the same.”
His jaw clenched. “I see,” he said again.
“And he didn’t like that.”
“That does not surprise me.”
Daphne sighed. It didn’t surprise her either.
What did surprise her was what had happened after.
She was still reeling from Maximus’s reaction—from his anger—from what he’d dared to say to her.
At the end of the day, no matter how often she was proven right, somehow she still managed to be surprised when all men were the same.
Kronos stared at her in the darkness. Daphne wished he would come closer.
Instead he remained a respectful distance away, his body angled toward hers, his palm still covering his cock.
Daphne felt a wild urge to uncover it—to straddle him and give him what she refused to give to Maximus.
But it was not the time for that. For now it was enough just to breathe the same air as him.
“What happened next?”
“Then we argued. About…everything. Our arrangement, the competition…you. He told me that he no longer required my services. He…said some other things too.”
As Daphne was talking, Kronos sat on the stone beside her. He didn’t say a word, even when she paused for long periods of time.
Finally, she finished. “I ran all the way here. Then I fell asleep. You…know the rest.”
Kronos nodded. Without a word he leaned forward, gathered Daphne in his arms, and walked into the passageway.
He carried her all the way to his chambers before setting her gently on his bed and wrapping a soft blanket around her.
Daphne was too tired to protest, and she didn’t care to anyway.
The fire was warm, and so was Kronos as he slid onto the sheets beside her.
Despite their closeness, he did not let his cock touch her.
Daphne knew it was his way of showing that he respected her—that even though she was drunk and vulnerable he would not take advantage.
He was always looking out for her, even when she was unwilling or unable to look out for herself.
Daphne closed her eyes, inhaling his scent. He always smelled like smoke no matter where they were or what they were doing. She could feel his heartbeat in the center of his chest. Unlike Daphne’s heartbeat, which was thrumming like a hummingbird’s, Kronos’s was calm and steady. Just like him.
“Are you warm enough?” he murmured.
“Yes,” she murmured back.
It was true; their bodies were folded together, heat seeping from his skin to hers.
“Have you thought more about the Ranking?” Kronos whispered.
There was no need for them to be so quiet; they were all alone in his chambers. Yet his hushed tone matched the importance of the moment, and Daphne found herself whispering back, “It’s…all I’ve been thinking about.”
Kronos sighed, his chest rising and falling against hers. “As have I.”
“I don’t want you to be angry with me…whatever I choose.”
He pulled away to look down at her. “I could never be angry with you, Daphne.”
She looked back up at him, seeing the depth in his eyes—endless refractions of gold. “You will be if I choose wrong.”
“There is no wrong choice as long as you follow your heart.”
Daphne swallowed. Her heart hardly had a reliable sense of direction. It had led her astray more times than she could count. “I don’t know what I want,” she whispered.
The thought of going into something like the Ranking was terrifying. She didn’t even know what it would entail, and she was hardly in the correct mind space to hear about it tonight. In a way it did not matter. All that mattered was whether or not she trusted Kronos.
“You do not have to decide tonight,” Kronos said quietly. “The Ranking begins tomorrow evening.”
Daphne nodded. In that case, she would worry about it in the morning. In the meantime, her head was still spinning from the wine. She needed a distraction.
“Can you…talk to me?”
Kronos shifted her in his arms. “What shall I talk to you about?”
“I don’t know. Anything. Tell me something about your childhood. It must have been fascinating.”
“If you find hunting and swimming fascinating, then I suppose it was.”
“Oh, come on.” Daphne propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at him. She liked hearing about his powers and the ways in which basilisks were different than humans. “You must have some stories.”
Kronos lifted a hand to tuck her curls behind her ear. She loved it when he did that.
“I assure you my childhood was uneventful. Basilisks mainly spend their youths learning how to hunt and control our powers.”
“But what about sex?”
He raised his eyebrow. “What about it?”
“Where do you learn everything? Were you born knowing what to do?”
As she said it, Daphne realized how interested she was in the answer. Where did basilisks learn everything? The truce dictated that they use their sexual knowledge to train the future queen. But how did they gain such knowledge?
“Basilisks come of age when they turn one hundred years old,” Kronos said. “On that day, they have sex for the first time.”
Daphne blinked. One hundred years old?
“Whoever they have sex with becomes their mentor,” Kronos continued, seemingly oblivious to her shock. “They form a bond.”
“What kind of bond?”
“A powerful one.”
“Love?”