CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN #3
“I already told you my father doesn’t matter. All that matters is how we feel about each other. I love you, Daphne.”
But it wasn’t enough. It took her wearing a low-cut dress for Maximus to compliment her.
It took Kronos claiming her for Maximus to claim her himself.
Maximus was always the last to realize her worth.
But Kronos knew it right away. His attraction to her was not dependent on any external factors.
It didn’t matter what she wore or who she talked to.
Kronos wanted her the moment he met her, and he hadn’t stopped wanting her since.
He was sure of his love for her. Maximus was anything but.
“You know how I feel about you, Daphne. You know I—”
“I do not feel the same.”
Finally, he fell silent.
“This has gone far enough,” Daphne said quietly. Her volume was purposeful; she wanted him to have to lean in, to hear her properly. “You have no right to tell me how I feel,” she continued, her tone far calmer than she felt. “And if you aren’t going to listen to me, this conversation is over.”
“This conversation is far from over.”
Once again, Maximus wasn’t listening when she said no. He was a man determined to be angry. Moments ago he had offered her the world. When she’d refused, he became angry.
Just like every other man.
Maximus was no better than Benjamin. Both had wanted something from her, and the moment they didn’t get it, they lashed out.
They turned on her. They pretended they hadn’t wanted her in the first place.
It was abhorrent, pathetic behavior, and Daphne was tired of it.
One may be a village boy and one may be a prince, yet they handled rejection identically.
The sign of a good man was not how he treated you when he was pleased with you.
It was how he treated you when he was furious with you. Maximus was not a good man.
The only man who had ever treated her right was Kronos.
When she told him no, he respected it. When she drew a boundary, he actively helped her uphold it.
He was patient and moral, and he was ten times the man Maximus would ever be.
Before she met Kronos, Daphne would have accepted such treatment. Now she knew she deserved better.
So she squared her shoulders and said, “I think you should leave.”
He shook his head. “I refuse to believe you don’t feel something when you’re with me.”
Daphne felt plenty when she was with Maximus. But she felt more when she was with Kronos. She felt everything. “Then you refuse to believe the truth.”
Maximus’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck you.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said”—Max crossed his arms, leaning in close—“fuck you, Daphne.”
A strange sense of calm came over Daphne. The prince had finally revealed himself. It was time for her to do the same.
“I’m surprised at you,” she said quietly. “Such vulgar language is unbecoming of the future king.”
“You’re nothing but a pathetic, slutty village girl,” the prince sneered.
In the past, such words might have hurt her. In the past, such words had. But no longer. Now Daphne didn’t even blink as she replied, “Rumor has it that’s exactly your type.”
“Daph,” said Ella quietly from somewhere behind her. A warning.
Daphne knew things were escalating. Her best friend was trying to protect her.
It wasn’t just Daphne’s safety on the line—Maximus held true power.
He would control the bloodletting, the villagers, the kingdom.
He was the one who had a say in the peace between the humans and the basilisks, not Daphne.
If Maximus wanted, he could destroy everything Daphne loved.
And by the look on his face, he wanted to.
Daphne said the only thing she could think to say to deescalate the situation, to protect herself and her future child. “I’m sorry, Max.”
He let out a dry, horrible chuckle. “Don’t be,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. “You warned me, didn’t you? You told me you wouldn’t fall in love with me. I should have believed you.”
Daphne was silent, terrified of making it worse. Maximus stared at her stomach.
“I could kill him, you know,” he whispered, almost as if she weren’t there, “or worse.”
Only one thing could be worse than killing him. Daphne pictured Kronos in the dungeon, wasting away like the basilisks she’d just seen. There could be no worse fate. Fear tightened her chest.
“Max…”
Maximus looked her directly in the eye. “I am the prince,” he said, his words made of ice. “And you are my subject. You should address me as such.”
Daphne understood that they were done, that if she ever saw him again, things would not be the same.
He was no longer her Max. He never had been.
Perhaps in another life it would have been them.
She could picture it easily: living in the castle, raising their children together.
It would have been a comfortable life. But it would not have been enough.
Daphne wanted more. So she said, “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”
Then she slammed the door in his face.