Bonus chapter
Leo
Thelonius,” Maximus said. “Come with me.”
Leo groaned. It had already been a long day, and it was bound to be a long evening: in a matter of hours the elimination process would begin.
He’d counted on at least an afternoon of peace before the girls competing for his hand would show up at the castle and he would have to pretend to want them.
Yet here his father was, looking at him expectantly.
“Can’t it wait?”
Maximus shook his head. “It cannot.”
With a sigh, Leo followed his father to the parlor, where he gestured at a pair of armchairs before the crackling fire. With another sigh, Leo sat. His father sat too, regarding him with a discerning coldness Leo knew well. Whatever was coming, he doubted it was good.
“Tonight is an important night for you, Thelonius.”
Leo shifted in his seat. That was the understatement of the century.
“I know.”
His father leaned forward. “Do you? Are you truly ready to accept the responsibility that comes with being king?”
Quite frankly Leo had no idea. He doubted he was ready to be king, and even if he was, he doubted his father thought so.
“What do you think, father? Am I ready?”
Maximus leaned back, clasping his hands in his lap. It was then that Leo noticed a small, black velvet box on the arm of his chair.
“I think you will rise to the occasion.”
Was his father . . . complimenting him? If that was praise, he would gladly accept it.
Leo pointed at the box. “What’s that?”
Maximus’s gaze trailed to the box. “That,” he said, “is your legacy.”
A silence fell. Leo didn’t know what his father meant, and he was almost too afraid to ask. Ever since Evelyn left, it had seemed impossible to earn Maximus’s favor. Yet for some reason, tonight felt different. His father seemed anticipatory. Even hopeful.
“It is time for you to become the king I know you can be,” Maximus said quietly.
Another silence. Leo sat completely still as his father reached for the box and opened it.
Inside was a thick, golden cuff that perfectly matched the one on his father’s wrist. The gold was shiny and smooth, reflecting the firelight with an ethereal quality that Leo couldn’t understand.
Almost as if it were made from magic. Maximus looked at Leo.
“Give me your wrist.”
There was nothing to do but obey.
Leo extended his wrist, watching as his father shaped the cuff around it, adjusting until it was tight. When he was done, he raised his own arm, placing the cuffs next to one another.
“Great,” Leo said dryly. “Now we match.”
Maximus’s eyes darkened. “It is an honor to wear this,” he snapped. “You have no idea what I went through to make it.”
Leo frowned. His father never talked about his past, nor had he ever mentioned a proclivity for goldsmithing.
“What do you mean?”
But Maximus only shook his head. Whatever window into his soul that had briefly opened was closed again. When he said nothing more, Leo followed up:
“Why are you giving this to me now?”
His father hesitated, then said: “Let it serve as a reminder of why you are doing this.”
“And why am I doing this?”
Now Maximus stood. “Do not feign stupidity, son.”
That was the last thing Leo was feigning.
He understood perfectly well why this was happening: he knew he had crossed a line by courting Evelyn, and he knew his father was angry about it.
He knew that the competition was Maximus’s chance to right his son’s wrongs—to ensure that the kingdom progressed in a direction he approved of.
What he didn’t understand was why this particular piece of jewelry was now on his wrist.
“I’m just asking because—”
“You are doing this because it is your legacy,” his father snapped. “It is your destiny. And if you do not do this, our kingdom will fall into ruin. Is that what you want, son?”
“No,” said Leo through gritted teeth. “It isn’t. But I don’t want—”
“This is not about what you want.”
“But I—”
“You are doing it because I demand it of you.”
Father stared at son. The fire crackled.
Not ask it of him. Not request it of him. Demand.
“Very well,” Leo whispered.
“Good,” Maximus snapped, standing suddenly. “Then we are aligned.”
He swept from the room.
Leo stared numbly at the fire. The cuff felt like a shackle.
He stared at the burnished gold, turning his wrist so that it caught the light.
It was a beautiful thing—there was no doubt about that.
Yet somehow there was a sadness to it: a weight Leo could not define.
With nothing else to do, he stood, poured himself a generous glass of champagne, and chugged it. Then he made his way to the ballroom.
Most of the royals were already there: he immediately spotted his cousins from the sea, draped in fur.
Leo trailed through the crowd, seeing little and feeling even less.
Three more glasses of champagne later, he was resigned to his fate.
The girls vying for his attention were decently pretty.
Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
But it took only a single flirtatious wave from a girl with a heart-shaped face to make Leo dip into the hallway to take a break.
He didn’t want to talk to her. He didn’t want to talk to anyone.
The only girl he wanted had disappeared into the ether, leaving Leo behind.
Every word of her letter was still emblazoned on his brain:
I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.
It was a dagger in the heart then, and it was even worse now. Time was supposed to heal all wounds. Yet it had only made this one worse.
Leo stumbled up the stairs to his bedroom, wondering if anyone would notice if he just locked himself in for the duration of the evening.
He was just about to enter when something caught his eye.
The door to the study was open. Leo frowned.
No one was supposed to be up here. Perhaps it was a maid, cleaning.
But it was a little late in the evening for that.
Still frowning, Leo crossed the hallway and pushed the door the rest of the way open.
A girl with long, curly hair was standing in the study, looking at the basilisk skull set on a velvet cushion.
Her fingers were outstretched, as if she intended to touch it.
Leo leaned against the doorframe. “Looking for something?”
The girl whirled around, her brown eyes widening in surprise. There was a pause.
“Is it real?” she asked.
Leo stepped into the room. “Is what real?”
She pointed at the skull. Another pause followed, and he broke it: “What do you think?”
The girl didn’t reply. In the silence, Leo approached. Her expression was dark. Worried.
“You’re displeased,” he said quietly.
“No, I—” the girl cut herself off, pursed her lips, and finished carefully: “I’m . . . just surprised.”
“I’d rather you didn’t lie to me,” Leo said. “Plenty of people do that already.”
The girl looked up at him in surprise. Perhaps she wasn’t used to such honesty from the royals.
Or perhaps she wasn’t used to the royals at all.
This girl had clearly grown up far away from the confines of the castle.
Despite the way she was dressed—in a gown of emerald silk, cut low to expose exquisitely freckled skin—her hair was wild and her skin bore no traces of makeup.
His eyes slid down her body, taking in every curve.
A tiny golden charm in the shape of a claw glinted between her breasts.
“You lost a bet,” she whispered.
“I beg your pardon?”
The girl turned abruptly back to the skull. “Seems like a morbid thing to keep around, doesn’t it?”
It was a rather morbid thing to keep around, if Leo was being honest. But it was also a family heirloom, and his father’s most prized possession. When he told the girl as much, she frowned. “What kind of family keeps a skull as an heirloom?”
“Mine, I suppose.”
The girl shook her head in obvious disgust. Leo wished he had a different answer for her, but it was true—his father hated the basilisks and savored any opportunity to disgrace them.
The skull was indeed his prized possession, passed down from his own father before him.
Eventually, it would belong to Leo. It was tradition.
“We’re not all bad, you know.”
This was met with yet more silence. The girl seemed to be deep in thought, lost in her own mind. Leo fought the wild urge to ask her what she was thinking about. Somehow he knew she wouldn’t tell him. Instead he extended his hand and said, “Thelonius. Although I prefer Leo.”
Half of him expected her to ignore the gesture. But to his delight, she took his hand and replied, “Temperance. Although I prefer Tem.”
“Temperance,” he said slowly. Her hand was warm and soft. He wanted to hold it forever. “It certainly is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Thanks,” she said suspiciously.
Leo smiled. This girl was not easily fooled, nor was she dazzled by his title. Any of the other girls in line for his hand would have taken advantage of a moment alone with him and been on their knees already. But not this girl. This girl had . . . substance. This girl was special.
“Are you enjoying the party?” he asked, simply to keep her here.
“It’s . . . impressive.”
An evasion. That wouldn’t do at all.
“That wasn’t a yes.”
“Oh,” Tem blinked in surprise. Then the suspicion returned. “I just mean . . . I’m not used to these types of events. Parties, I mean. I . . . haven’t been to many.”
The words were said haltingly, as if she wasn’t sure how much to disclose. She was wary of him, this special girl. That wouldn’t do either. Perhaps if he agreed with her, Tem might soften. “I suppose it is a little stiff, as these things generally are.”
“It’s better than being at home,” she shrugged.
“Is it? I can’t imagine being in your position.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I would be furious if I were you, paraded in here like a lamb to the slaughter.”