CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Maximus
You can’t take him from me,” Daphne had screamed.
But he could.
Maximus took the one thing she loved the most—the one thing he knew would destroy her.
In doing so, he had broken what was left of their trust. Perhaps Daphne truly had respected him once.
But Maximus no longer cared to be good. Being good got him nowhere.
He did not doubt that he would never hear her voice again.
He would only remember her bright, defiant eyes as his carriage drew away.
Maximus spent the following months in a fugue state.
He married Constance. He got her pregnant.
She turned cold when it became clear he would never love her.
His wife became thoughtless with her words, reckless with her actions.
When she died giving birth to Thelonius, Maximus didn’t even cry.
Nothing could touch him anymore; he was numb.
He would never open his heart to anyone again. He would not be weak or sentimental. He would strike first before anyone could strike him. That was the only way to beat the basilisks, and it was the only way to guard his heart. Maximus was beyond the point of regret.
He wore a golden cuff on his wrist. It was no ordinary piece of jewelry; he had made it specifically from one basilisk’s blood—Kronos.
As soon as Thelonius turned twenty, he made him one too.
Maximus upheld the ancient traditions; he sharpened his son’s incisors, he administered the Cutting.
Sometimes he found himself down in the dungeon, staring at Kronos.
The snake had long since lost his luster—years of bloodletting had weakened him nearly to the point of no return.
The sight of Kronos hunched over, wires streaming from his fingers, emboldened Maximus.
The snake did not react when he was there.
Possibly he did not even notice. Sometimes Maximus wondered whether it would simply be easier to kill him.
Certainly, it would be kinder. But Maximus was not interested in being kind.
He was not interested in mercy. He wanted the snake to feel pain—to feel what Maximus had felt when Daphne chose a monster over him. An eternity of torture was not enough.
It angered him that he couldn’t see Daphne.
There was so much he wanted to tell her—so much he needed her to know.
But she had promised he would never hear her voice again, and he believed her.
That sweet, lyrical voice. Those gorgeous curls.
The freckles he’d counted again and again, never daring to believe they belonged to him.
They hadn’t. They’d always belonged to the weak, disgusting creature in the dungeon.
At least they were both alone. Constance was dead, and Kronos was captive.
That, at least, was a symmetry Maximus could accept.
He did not want Daphne to fall in love again.
He had a feeling she wouldn’t. But even if she did, it would not be with another snake.
He would make it his personal mission to hunt them all—to drain them of their blood and use it to build his legacy.
All in her name. Daphne would never know it, but she would be the reason why the snakes would bleed.
His father had been right: It was natural.
The circle of life. If there was something to be had, Maximus would make sure he was the one who had it.
That was power. Choosing to take.
Under his reign, the bloodletting increased.
Times were bad everywhere, and Maximus’s kingdom was the only one thriving.
There were rumors that the royals to the north were under siege—some evil had taken hold there, another monster, not unlike the basilisk.
That was none of his concern. The north was far away—far beyond the mountain, near the sea.
This kingdom had only one monster to worry about.
And Maximus had trapped it in the dungeon.
Lilly grew into a beautiful woman—the spitting image of her mother.
She married and had children of her own.
Maximus was proud of her. He wanted the same for Thelonius.
The entire affair with Evelyn took years off Maximus’s life.
He saw his son take the same path he had: falling in love with someone he should never have fallen in love with.
It was agony watching his son play out some delusional fantasy with a village girl; the entire experience nearly pushed him beyond what he could endure.
No matter. He would not let it happen again.
It was not the first time he’d been forced to solve a matter of the heart, and it surely would not be the last.
When it was time for Thelonius to choose a wife, Maximus would ensure he chose a suitable one. His son would not make the same mistakes he made.
Maximus would make sure of it.