Filed To Story: Spit or Swallow: Kiss Of The Basilisk
Tem cried Kora’s name when she came.
As she drifted off to sleep, she imagined the princes on either side of her, cradling her body between theirs.
The next day dawned cold and joyless.
Tem completed her farm chores on autopilot, forcing herself to stay busy until dusk. When the sun was finally setting, she joined her mother on the path to the village.
The town square was packed with restless people, and Tem scanned the crowd for Gabriel, but he was nowhere to be found. She wandered the square alone, taking in the elaborate decorations. There was gold leaf everywhere-plastered on the shutters of the cottages facing the square, lining the wooden stage, even flecked across the cobblestones. Tem shuddered at the sight.
The Passing of the Crown always occurred at this point in the competition, when the prince was nearly ready to choose a wife. It was a way for the current king to express faith in his son’s choice-to show that the next generation was ready to rule. If the Passing of the Crown went well, the villagers could expect the king to cede power to the prince on his wedding day.
Someone pressed a glass of mead into Tem’s hands. She sipped it slowly, losing herself in the bustle of the square. It wasn’t until a hush fell over the crowd that she looked up to see Leo ascending the stage.
He walked straight to the edge, facing the villagers. Behind him stood Lilly, radiant in a green cloak that made her blond hair even brighter. Next to her was Maximus, whose face was drawn in tight apprehension. Tem could only imagine what he was thinking.
“Thank you all for being here tonight,” Leo said, his voice carrying over the square. “You honor me with your presence.”
To Tem’s surprise, this announcement was not met with applause. Instead, a murmur swept through the crowd-one tinged unmistakably with disapproval. Before Tem could worry about this, Maximus stepped forward too.
“As you all know, the Passing of the Crown is a momentous occasion,” the king began. “It is a tradition that has gone on for centuries and will go on for many more.”
His speech was long, and Tem found her mind wandering. She thought about Caspen and how the basilisk traditions were so very different from the human ones. If only all it took for her to be accepted by his people was a simple ceremony like the one she was about to watch.
Then again, were the two traditions really so different?
The Passing of the Crown was also a test of a father and son’s relationship. There was no law that said Maximus had to pass the crown. Tem had never heard of a king withholding his blessing from his son, but surely in the long history of the kingdom, it had happened. She couldn’t imagine anything worse for the royals. Tensions were already running high now that the truce was broken; it would not be wise to present anything other than a united front, especially when the villagers were growing restless. There was a palpable shift in their energy tonight-an underlying ripple of tension that hung in the air like fog. Tem didn’t like the feeling, and for some reason, she feared it.
Her thoughts snapped back to the present as Maximus clapped his hands together sharply. Tem watched as Lord Chamberlain stepped forward and placed a golden crown on the king’s head. Tem knew this was meant to symbolize the current state of power. Maximus turned to Leo, who knelt at the front of the stage. The crowd fell silent as Maximus raised his hands, touching just his fingertips to the crown.
He hesitated.
Tem remembered how Maximus had criticized Leo for acting childish, how he didn’t trust his instincts. She thought about how he’d spoken to Vera personally to tell her she was his favorite. Leo’s affiliation with Tem would no doubt give the king pause. But if Maximus didn’t pass the crown, he risked undermining the facade the royals fought so hard to keep intact-the illusion that everything was perfect, that there were no cracks in the foundation. As much as Maximus might want to teach Leo a lesson by not passing the crown, the ramifications of such an act would reverberate far beyond tonight’s events. It would damage the royals’ reputation and sow seeds of doubt about their ability to rule. It would upset the balance.
An eternity passed.
Then, with the same steady control she’d come to expect from the king, Maximus lifted the crown from his own head and set it slowly on Leo’s. For a moment, there was silence.
A voice screamed from the crowd, “Justice for Jonathan!”
Everyone turned collectively toward the source of the cry. Jonathan’s older brother, Jeremy, was standing on a wooden crate with his fist in the air. Tem felt a chill go down her spine at the sight.
“Justice for Jonathan!” he yelled again.
“And for Christopher!” another voice cried.
Tem heard several sounds of approval. The villagers agreed.
She looked back at Leo, who was slowly standing. His eyes held a coolness Tem knew well.
“Such a loss is devastating,” Leo said, his voice firm and clear. “It is unacceptable, and my family mourns with yours. You have my word that the snakes will not go unpunished.”
“How?” Jeremy said. “How are you going to punish them?”
Now Leo glanced at his father. Maximus lifted his chin, the motion so subtle it was nearly imperceptible. It was a test, and one Tem dearly hoped the prince would pass. The king was telling his son to take the reins. If Leo was worthy of the crown, he would one day need to navigate situations just like these.
Leo cleared his throat before continuing. “I understand and share your need for justice. But these matters require lengthy discussion. We will not make any rash decisions.”
“Fuck your discussions. My brother is dead. We should drive the snakes from their caves!”
The crowd roared. A flicker of fear curled in Tem’s stomach. The villagers were agitated; there was no calming them. The chant began slowly. Tem barely heard it at first, but it built to an unstoppable rhythm, and there was no mistaking the words that grew into a frenzied roar.
“Kill the snakes! Kill the snakes!”
A frown creased Leo’s forehead. He turned once more to his father, who glared at him before stepping forward with undeniable authority. Tem flinched at the look on his face.
“My people,” Maximus cried, raising his hands in solidarity. “I feel your pain.”
But the crowd would not be appeased. They wanted blood.
“Kill the snakes! Kill the snakes!”
Even Maximus could not control this. He raised his hands higher, as if to fend off the chants.
“We will ensure that the snakes pay for their sins,” he yelled over the cries of his people. “They will suffer the consequences of their actions.”
But it was not enough. The villagers only grew louder.
Tem understood that they were angry-that a most fundamental part of their livelihood had been offended. The truce was supposed to protect them; it was supposed to guarantee their safety. If they could not trust the truce, they could trust nothing. The villagers lived under the protection of the royals, and when that protection failed, what did they need the royals for? It was not a good position for Leo. It was perilous.
Tem was jostled around as the cries of the crowd grew louder. Her eyes met Leo’s, and she saw a sudden flash of concern in them-concern not for himself, she realized, but for her. He stepped toward the edge of the stage-toward her. Tem quickly shook her head. If he entered the crowd, he would surely be swarmed. She gave him a look that said: I’m fine.
Leo didn’t seem convinced.
For the first time, Tem feared for the human prince. His jaw was tight, his fists clenched at his sides. He was not immune to danger just because he was the son of the king. It only made him more prone to it. Tem knew she hadn’t imagined the precarious moment of delay when Maximus passed the crown. And now this.
Before she could do anything else, Leo’s eyes widened in fear.
A man was climbing onstage.
The villager lunged immediately in the prince’s direction, his arms outstretched, his mouth an angry slash. Leo raised his hands in defense, but it was Maximus who stepped forward to block the blow.
Tem gasped as another man joined the first.
She could do nothing but watch as the two men advanced on the prince and the king, their hands curled into fists. It was unprecedented; she’d never seen such a blatant display of insurgence. Another figure launched themselves onstage, and this one she recognized: Gabriel. He shoved the first man away from Leo before turning to the second. Members of the royal staff were now running forward as more villagers swarmed the stage. The crowd screamed, and Tem covered her ears against the sound.
A hand grabbed her arm. It was her mother.
“Come, my dear. It is not safe.”
She was right; it wasn’t safe. The crowd was in a furor, yelling and chanting and throwing things at the royals. Glasses shattered on the cobblestones as people tore down the great golden banners draped across the square. It was madness.
Tem watched as Maximus grabbed Leo by the shoulders and yanked him back toward Lilly, who was standing with her hands over her mouth. Tem’s mother was pulling her in a similar fashion, directing her to the edge of the crowd. The last thing Tem saw was the golden crown on Leo’s blond head as his father ushered him off the back of the stage.
Tem and her mother hurried along the path home, not stopping for anything. Their little cottage seemed extra quiet after the chaos of the town square, and her mother immediately crossed to the sink and began washing the dishes. Tem knew it was a way to soothe her nerves, and she stood beside her in solidarity, drying dish after dish.
Neither of them spoke.
Tem used the silence to reach for Caspen with her mind. He answered immediately:
What is it, Tem?
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