CHAPTER FORTY-SIX #2
“If you’ve thought about it, then could we not make a go of it? Could we not try?”
“Max,” she whispered. “You ask too much. This wasn’t part of the deal.”
It hurt even more to hear her call him by his nickname. Once a sign of trust and intimacy, now a barrier between them.
“I know,” he whispered back. “But I must ask anyway.”
She only shook her head. Just that motion was devastating.
“Would it truly be so bad?” he whispered. “Being married to me?”
“You don’t understand. There would be only pain for us.”
Maximus frowned. What didn’t he understand? Was she saying that it was painful to be with him? What he felt right now couldn’t be further from pain. How was it possible that he felt one way and she felt the opposite?
“For the last year, the only person I cared about was my daughter,” he said, desperate to get the words out.
“She was all I thought about. But now I think about you. Ever since we met, I cannot stop thinking about you. Pain is the last thing I feel when I’m with you.
I love you, Daphne. And I don’t care if you don’t want to hear it. ”
She shook her head. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s the truth.”
“No. It isn’t.”
“Of course it is,” he said. “How could it not be? You’re beautiful, Daphne. And funny and caring and everything I could want in a wife. I want you more than any of these other women who are throwing themselves at my feet. I want to know everything about you. I want every moment with you.”
To his dismay, Daphne shook her head again.
Beside them, the basilisk in the closest cell was beginning to act strangely.
Somewhere during the course of their conversation, it had opened its eyes, and now it was looking at Daphne intently.
Was Maximus imagining it, or was it shifting closer to her?
Come to think of it, were they all shifting closer to her?
In every cell, all around them, the basilisks were emerging from their stupors, blinking blearily in the dim lighting as they turned toward Daphne.
“Max.” She placed her hands over his, beginning to pull them away from her face. “You only love me because you think you can’t get me.”
Maximus only held on to her tighter. “That’s not true.”
She was completely misunderstanding him.
Maximus knew perfectly well what Daphne must think of him—that he was a spoiled prince who had never worked a day in his life, someone who got whatever he wanted, a boy who had everything handed to him.
But he wanted Daphne, and she would not be handed to him.
He wanted her, and he could not get her.
And now, for the first time, it was up to him to do something about it.
Maximus had never had to take action before.
She was right; everything had been handed to him. But not this. Not her.
A faint noise interrupted his thoughts. The basilisk beside them was lifting its wired hands, its mouth opening. Was it trying to speak?
“Daphne,” Maximus said, glancing at the snake. “Come upstairs. We will finish this in my room. It is more comfortable there. We can have a drink. We can talk.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said. “Until you promise to free them.”
“What?”
This had taken a turn. The entire conversation was spinning well out of Maximus’s control.
The thing he loved most about her—her compassion—was creating a chasm between them now.
When his father had first shown him the bloodletting, Maximus had been horrified.
Somewhere deep inside, he’d suspected Daphne would not approve of it.
Now, as she told him point-blank that his suspicion was correct, he was terrified at the prospect of granting her demand.
To change centuries of tradition was to change the entire course of the future.
It was too great a responsibility for him.
But if he didn’t do it, he would lose her.
She was drawing a line between them—stating an ultimatum—forcing him to choose.
“You said you would try,” Daphne whispered. “Remember? You said you would try to be a good king for me.”
Maximus did remember. “That was before. Things have changed, Daphne.”
“Before what?”
They were coming to the truth at last—the thing he suspected in his heart yet did not want to voice aloud. Yet she had given him no choice.
“Before I knew I had no chance with you. Perhaps I had one once. But not anymore. Am I wrong?”
She pursed her lips.
He leaned closer, repeating his question deliberately. “Am. I. Wrong?”
Daphne still didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
If Maximus had had a chance with her, that window was closed.
Maybe it had never truly been open. At no point during the competition had her heart bent in his direction.
He’d only seen her look at one person the way he wished for her to look at him. She had only ever wanted one thing.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” he said, already knowing he was right.
Anger began to course through him. “That snake. You care about him, and he cares about you. I saw it when he came to the castle. I saw the way he looked at you. Is that why you want me to end this?” He threw his arms out wide.
“You want to save his brothers and sisters? They would not save you in return, Daphne. The snakes are our enemies.”
“You don’t know anything about them.”
“And I suppose you do?”
She jutted her chin defiantly. Of course she did. No doubt her teacher had filled her head with all sorts of lies.
“Just because you don’t understand them,” she said quietly but firmly, “does not make them your enemy.”
“What would you have me do, Daphne? I cannot free them. If I do that, the kingdom will be in peril.”
“These people are in peril.”
“They are not people.”
Even he was surprised at the harshness of his tone.
Daphne took a step back from him. “What happened to you, Max?” she whispered. “What happened to your heart?”
Her words killed him. He did not know how to answer.
“Can’t you feel empathy?” Daphne insisted. “Can’t you care?”
“I could once,” he whispered.
“Yes.” She nodded, tears filling her eyes. “Once. But not anymore.”
In the depths of his soul, Maximus knew she was right. Daphne was breaking what was left of his heart. Without her, there was no point to any of it—no reason for him to try to be better. Without her, there was nothing.
“Just leave me, Max.”
“No.”
“Maximus.” She placed her hands flat against his chest. “Leave me.”
But he couldn’t. Daphne was here, right in front of him. It had taken them so long to get here; it had been agony to wait for this—for her. He couldn’t let her go any more than he could let go of one of his own limbs.
“I will leave you,” he said slowly, “when you say his name.”
She pursed her lips.
“Say it, Daphne. Tell me who has stolen your heart.”
He wanted to finish the sentence with from me. But it was pointless to do so. Deep in his soul he knew he never had her heart to begin with.
“You have become hollow inside,” she said quietly. “It is a shame to see.”
Maximus stared at her. He could feel a vein pulsing in his temple. No one had ever spoken to him like that before. It was so extraordinarily painful he almost enjoyed it. Then cold rage darkened his vision.
“How dare you say that to me?” he hissed.
She crossed her arms. “You need to hear it.”
“And what makes you think I need to hear it from you?”
“You care what I think of you.”
Finally, Maximus fell silent. They both knew it was true. He had feelings for her, yes. But his favor extended further than that. He hadn’t cared what anyone thought since Lilibet. After this experience, he was unlikely to ever care again.
“Leave me, Max.”
Unbridled rage filled him.
“Oh, what are you going to do, Daphne? Free the snakes yourself? They would not be so gracious to you if the situation were reversed, I guarantee you.”
Maximus couldn’t have predicted Daphne’s reaction to his words.
“Just leave me!” she screamed, her eyes ablaze with fury.
Maximus stared at her. He had used the wrong tactic—pushed her too hard. He should know by now that she didn’t work that way, that it was impossible to force Daphne Verus to do anything she didn’t want to do. Despair settled in his chest. What had he just done?
“As you wish, Daphne,” he whispered.
Then he left her.