CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Caspen
Three carriages stood before Caspen.
Guards surrounded them, all holding young roosters. It was a tactic used during the war—the crow of a full-grown rooster was fatal to a basilisk, but the crow of a young one merely weakened them. The guards stood at attention as a tall, thin figure emerged from the third carriage. The prince.
He wore armor bearing the royal insignia—a rooster defeating a snake—and a golden crown sat upon his icy-blond head. Caspen suppressed a wave of rage at the sight.
“Well,” Maximus said in a tone that implied they were at a dinner party rather than in the middle of a kidnapping, “what have we here?”
Caspen stepped forward. He pointed at Harmony and Kronos, who were both restrained by other basilisks, their arms pinned behind their backs. “Release them. Now.”
Maximus tilted his head. His eyes slid to Daphne, who was watching him with an expression of unrestrained loathing. What had happened between the prince and his first choice?
“I’m afraid I cannot do that.”
Caspen shifted his weight, already tired of this charade. “Why not?”
The prince crossed his arms. “I must take what was promised.”
“You shall take nothing from me.”
“Oh yes.” Maximus lifted his chin. “I shall.” He raised both hands, turning toward Harmony and Kronos. “Bring them to me.”
Complete pandemonium ensued.
Neither Kronos nor Harmony would go easily, and neither Caspen nor Apollo would let them.
Caspen’s body thrummed with power as he fought both basilisk and human, throwing himself at whoever dared throw themselves at him.
He fought his own people, not bothering to transition, oblivious to anything other than inflicting pain.
Apollo did the same, brother alongside brother, both of them tearing apart anyone who came in their path.
Harmony’s face came to him through flashes of blood and smoke, her skin pale, her eyes wide with fear.
At some point, Agnes joined the fight. In any other circumstance, Caspen would have reprimanded her.
But she remained on the fringes, only intervening when a basilisk came near Daphne.
The human girl was crying; she kept trying to get to Kronos and Agnes kept having to hold her back.
It was not until two palace guards had Kronos in a headlock that Daphne finally managed to slip into the fray.
“Agnes,” Caspen cried. “Get her out of here.”
No sooner had he said the words than Agnes attempted exactly that, diving toward Daphne and trying to pull her away from the havoc.
But the human girl was entangled with a basilisk—he was between her and Kronos, still in his human form—and Caspen watched in disbelief as Daphne arched her head back, pursed her lips, and spit.
Her saliva landed on the basilisk’s cheek. Immediately, he began to transition.
There was no time to intervene.
No time for Caspen to disentangle himself from the basilisks he was already fighting, no time to move.
All he could do was watch as Agnes threw herself in front of Daphne, pushing her away from the transitioning basilisk as he opened his mouth, bared his fangs, and clamped them down on his sister’s neck.
“AGNES!”
Caspen did not know whether the cry belonged to him or Apollo. All he knew was that he was running—not nearly fast enough—toward his sister. In the opposite direction, Harmony was being loaded into the first carriage.
Caspen did not go after her. He did not look up as the carriage drove away. Instead he caught Agnes just before she fell to the ground, his hands cradling her head as her body went limp in his arms.