Filed To Story: Spit or Swallow: Kiss Of The Basilisk
“Are his feelings reciprocated?”
She fought the urge to make a face. “That’s really none of your business,” she muttered.
Maximus leaned in. He had the same gold incisors as Leo. “Who my son loves is invariably my business.”
“Loves?”
“He can’t take his eyes off you.”
“Maybe he needs his eyes checked,” Tem said tartly.
“Do not make light of this. Even now, he watches.”
Tem scanned the parlor for Leo. He was leaning against the fireplace, whiskey in hand, staring at her with a slight smile on his lips. When their eyes met, he raised his glass in her direction.
Maximus’s fingers wrapped around Tem’s arm, digging painfully into her skin. “Everyone has their place, Temperance. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean”-his fingers tightened-“there is a natural order to things. A hierarchy, if you will.”
Tem scrunched her nose. She didn’t like where this conversation was going.
“We must honor that hierarchy,” the king continued. “Otherwise, things may become…unbalanced.”
“Unbalanced?”
“Yes. Unbalanced.”
He was still holding her arm.
“Take the basilisks, for example. They provide a service. Their place is beneath us.”
Tem hated the way he was speaking to her-as if he were explaining a simple concept to a small child.
“Should the snakes ever question their place, the balance may falter. So tell me, Temperance: Do you know your place?”
Tem didn’t answer. She was afraid if she did, she might say something rather rude.
“It is my son’s duty to choose a suitable wife.” Maximus’s sharp eyes met hers. “Are you worthy of that privilege?”
Tem held his gaze. “Your son will be the judge of that.”
“Apparently my son’s judgment is questionable.”
A thorn of resentment pricked Tem’s side.
She didn’t want Leo. Couldn’t want him less. But Maximus was insulting her, saying she wasn’t good enough for his weasel of a son. And why shouldn’t she be? She was just as good as Vera-or any of the other girls-despite the fact that the world had told her otherwise. Tem tried to quell the anger inside her, but it wouldn’t be stopped. She turned to face Maximus.
“If I wanted your son, I’d have him,” she said coldly. Then she wrenched her arm from his grasp and walked straight toward Leo.
He raised his eyebrows. “Let me guess,” he said as she approached. “My father told you you’re not worthy of me.”
“How’d you know?”
To Tem’s surprise, a harsh darkness flashed across Leo’s face. “That’s his specialty, I’m afraid.”
Tem frowned. There was no mistaking the change in his mood. Without thinking, Tem reached for Leo’s arm. The moment she touched him, he relaxed, his expression sliding into one of practiced indifference. He downed the rest of his whiskey.
“Shall we?” he asked.
“Shall we what?”
“Get on with our date. Unless you’d prefer we stay here and mingle with my family all evening.”
Tem would not prefer that.
At the expression on her face, Leo laughed. Then he crooked his elbow, clearly indicating he wanted Tem to take it. So she did. Without another word, Leo steered her from the parlor and out to the back patio, where a small, candlelit table was overlooking the maze. He pulled out one of the chairs, gesturing elegantly for her to sit.
“After you,” he said.
Tem sat slowly, watching Leo the entire time. He seemed calm, but there was a glimmer of rage just beneath the surface that Tem had no idea how to address. She decided to break the tension. “This is…lovely.” She waved her hand at the table.
“You’re lovely,” Leo said without missing a beat.
Tem scoffed. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Compliment me. You’re terrible at it.”
“I can’t be that bad. You’re still here, aren’t you?”
“I’m still here because I’m hungry. And it seems like there might be food.”
Leo smiled. “There will most certainly be food.”
“Great.”
“Is that the key then?”
“To what?”
“To you. If I feed you, will I earn your favor?”
“I’m not a horse, Leo.”
Leo let out a deep laugh. “Clearly not.”
Tem rolled her eyes and promptly changed the subject. “You father seems…intense.”
Leo’s laugh turned bitter. “That’s the kindest way I’ve ever heard him described.”
“How would you describe him?”
True, unfiltered pain flashed across Leo’s face. He leaned back in his chair, arching his neck to look at the stars. Tem let the silence sit, studying the tight angles of his jaw. Finally, he whispered, “Heartless.”
He dropped the word with such aching bitterness that a chill shot down Tem’s spine.
“Leo.” She said his name softly, in a way she’d never said it before.