Filed To Story: Spit or Swallow: Kiss Of The Basilisk
The whiskey had not been kind to her.
Tem woke with a groan, massaging her temples in an attempt to alleviate her pounding headache. Her first thought was of Leo. She pictured him waking up next to Vera, their naked bodies intertwined, their lips touching.
The visual was enough to bring the whiskey right back up.
When Tem was done in the bathroom, she crossed to the closet, opening it to find a row of dresses in her size. She pulled on the closest one before placing her hand on her bedroom door and pausing. What to do next? Tem could think of only one thing, and it was undoubtedly dangerous. But she was here, in the castle, and she would use the situation to her advantage even if it meant taking a risk.
She knew about this part of the competition from school: the girls were given free rein of the castle and expected to spend time with the prince if he requested it. He would bed them as he saw fit. There were no rules regarding the speed or timing of the final eliminations: sometimes the girls were in the castle for days, sometimes for months. Leo was in charge now, and he would choose his wife when he was ready.
Tem stood at the door, still hesitating.
She had no desire to open this door if it meant seeing Vera emerging from Leo’s room, her hair messy from sex, her eyes glazed over after a night of lovemaking.
Yet she had to open it.
The hallway was mercifully empty; perhaps Leo wasn’t even awake yet. Tem descended the stairs to the ground level, her bare feet brushing against the gold-flaked tiles in the foyer. She stood there for a moment, listening to the sounds of the castle. A distant bout of laughter came from the kitchen, and Tem knew the staff was preparing breakfast. She took a moment to close her eyes, focusing her energy on a single word:
Caspen.
He answered immediately. Tem.
I want to see my father.
She said nothing of the elimination process, mentioned no part of what had happened last night in the maze. Caspen sensed her evasion but didn’t address it. Instead, he replied, That is not a good idea.
Why not?
Someone may see you.
Tem was having trouble hearing him; it was as if they were talking through a wall. It’s early. No one is around.
It is not safe.
I’m not asking permission, Caspen.
He bristled. Some small part of her enjoyed his distress. Then what are you asking, Tem?
Do you know where he’s being kept?
No. I do not.
Haven’t you asked him? Or any of the basilisks who were imprisoned here?
Bloodletting weakens basilisks. They cannot use their minds as we can.
Tem thought about how her conversations with her father were always brief-a few words at most-before his voice faded. Fine. I’ll ask him myself.
She sensed his disapproval.
You need to be careful, Tem.
I will be.
You should-
But his voice cut off abruptly.
Caspen? Are you there?
No response.
Tem shook her head as if to clear it. She would worry about their connection later. Caspen wasn’t the basilisk she needed to talk to anyway.
Tem concentrated again, feeling for another presence nearby. When she found it, she wasted no time. Where are you?
She stood in silence, awaiting an answer. His response was barely a whisper.
Below.
Tem pursed her lips as that connection faded too. It was their shortest conversation yet, and it wasn’t much to go on. But it wasn’t a stretch to guess what “below” meant. Surely, there would be dungeons in the castle, places where the royals kept traitors during the war. And where they kept basilisks after the war.
Tem slipped through the castle, searching for the first stairway that headed down. When she found it, she took it quickly, walking on the pads of her feet so she didn’t make a sound. She was already rehearsing a story in her mind in case anyone found her: she would say she was looking for the kitchen, that she was hungry after a night of drinking at the ball. It was only half a lie; her stomach growled as she descended the endless staircase.
Eventually, the temperature began to drop.
Tem passed doorway after doorway, ignoring them all. The dungeons would be deep beneath the castle, lower than anything else, far away from anywhere a servant might stumble upon them accidentally. She walked for what felt like forever. But then, she came upon a metal door.
Tem knew immediately from the smell of the air that she had arrived.
Death and decay clung to her nostrils as she groped through the darkness for the door handle. It wasn’t even locked. There wasn’t a guard in sight-not a single person watching over the entrance to a long row of dark, hopeless cells. At first, Tem was shocked by the lack of security. But the moment she saw what was in the first cell, she understood why there were no guards down here. There was no need for security when the prisoners were this weak.
A female basilisk wearing her human form was shackled to the stone floor. There was nothing else in the cell, not even a cot. A complicated tangle of metal wires was fused to the basilisk’s fingers, trailing up into a hole in the ceiling. Tem had no idea what their function was, only that they must be part of the bloodletting process. Even now, she could see the color of the wires change from silver to gold, pulsing intermittently as the basilisk’s face twisted in pain. Tem’s heart broke at the sight of someone-someone like her-being treated like this. It was abhorrent.
All the cells were filled.
Tem couldn’t explain it, but she knew which cell contained her father. It was as if she were drawn to him by the invisible connection that had brought him into her mind in the first place. Tem followed their connection down the row of cells until she reached the very last one, stopping in front of it and squinting into the darkness.
There he was at last.
Even slumped against the rough stone wall, Tem could see her father’s beauty. His shoulders were broad, his eyes burnished gold. But unlike the gleaming, molten brightness of Caspen’s irises, her father’s eyes were dull-almost closer in color to copper-and Tem wondered if it was an effect of the bloodletting. He was tall, just like all basilisks, but stooped beneath the weight of years of torture.
Her heart called out, Father.
It was strange to say that word to him. Tem had no memory of this man; by the time she was born, he was already gone. But now she studied his face, and despite the dim lighting, she saw their resemblance. He had hair just like hers; it was lank now, but Tem recognized the same curls that also framed her face. His hands were resting palm up in his lap, silver wires fused to his fingers. Even in the darkness, Tem could count twenty-four freckles on his hands. Twelve on each side.
Her father opened his eyes. They stared at each other.
What is your name, child?
Tem’s heart performed a mournful swoop. He didn’t even know her name. Temperance.
She couldn’t be sure, but she swore he smiled.
What is your name? Her mother had never told her.
Kronos.
“Kronos,” she whispered it aloud, imagining a world in which she’d grown up saying it.
Her father tilted his head. You should not be here, Temperance.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.