CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Caspen
Caspen shoved basilisk after basilisk out of his way.
Harmony was at the edge of the crowd, surrounded by a throng of men, her arms pinned behind her back, her yellow eyes wide with fear. The men were dragging her into the passageway. Caspen was nearly upon them, his arm outstretched, reaching for her, when someone blocked his path. Rowe.
“You took my father from me.”
Caspen attempted to push him aside, but he did not move. “I took only what you were willing to lose,” he snapped.
“I was not willing to lose my own father.”
There was no time for this. Harmony needed him. Caspen looked Rowe straight in the eye, aiming his taunt like a knife. “Were you not? If that is the truth, then why did you not fight me?”
Rowe hesitated. “I—”
“What kind of son does not intervene when his father is attacked?”
Caspen knew the answer, even if Rowe was unwilling to admit it. It was not an unusual situation in basilisk culture: father against son, brother against brother. Solomon had been ranked above Rowe; with him gone, Rowe was one step closer to the throne.
“How dare you?” Rowe whispered.
Caspen no longer cared for decorum. This wound would not heal anyway. There was no point in attempting reparations when what he had done was unforgivable. The only thing he could do now was assert his power and show that his actions were justified.
Without hesitation, Caspen swung his fist at Rowe’s face.
Rowe barely managed to turn aside before Caspen moved again, this time aiming for his sternum.
Here, finally, he made contact. Rowe’s bones broke beneath his fist, caving his chest in.
Rowe doubled over. Caspen took the moment of reprieve to scan the room for Harmony.
She was gone. Before he could move to look for her, Rowe was upright once more.
This time when he lunged, Caspen was ready for him. So was Apollo.
His brother appeared out of nowhere, his eyes dark with determination. It was only once they joined forces that they were able to beat the Seneca back, pushing Rowe toward the vials. The Drakon brothers landed hit after hit, forcing Rowe to his knees.
Caspen was just about to crack Rowe’s skull on the edge of the stone basin when he happened to look up.
What he saw made him freeze in his tracks.
Apollo froze too, his face tilting upward, watching in raptured silence.
Rowe wrenched himself from their grasp, using their moment of distraction to disappear.
Caspen could not blame him; he would have done the same. It did not matter anyway.
The brothers stared up in disbelief as one vial began to drain. Even with their father’s blood bond destroyed—even with Kronos ranked in first place—nothing would change. Perhaps Kora was waiting for something, although for what, Caspen could not know.
Whatever her reasons, her decision was final. Kora had made her choice, and she had chosen not to pass the power.
Bastian would remain the Serpent King.