Filed To Story: Spit or Swallow: Kiss Of The Basilisk
“Apparently.”
There was a silence, and Tem dearly wished Leo had gotten her that drink. It was difficult not to feel nervous when Bastian was looking at her as if she were his next meal. It was not unlike the way he’d looked at her during the ritual.
“Congratulations on your nuptials,” the king offered.
“Thanks.”
A pause. The wedding guests milled around them. Then Bastian asked, “Are you ready to perform the crest?”
Tem didn’t know how to answer him. She settled on “As ready as I can be.”
Bastian nodded. “I hope you succeed.” Somehow it sounded like a threat.
“Do you?”
A cruel smile slowly twisted Bastian’s face. At the sight, Tem felt rather ill. “Of course,” he said with feigned nonchalance. “Why would I not?”
“Because it wouldn’t benefit you.” The moment the words slipped out, Tem realized they were true.
To her surprise, Bastian let out a low chuckle. “I do not do anything that does not benefit me, Temperance.”
Tem frowned, unable to stop her train of thought.
If she successfully performed the crest, it would give her an indescribable amount of power-far more power than Bastian possessed. It was not an ideal situation for someone who wanted to retain control over the quivers. Tem couldn’t imagine a world in which the Serpent King would allow someone like her to surpass him. She voiced her realization out loud. “Once I perform the crest, I’ll be more powerful than you,” she said.
Bastian tilted his head. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“How fascinating. I did not realize you coveted power so.”
Something was brewing within Tem-an epiphany she didn’t want to face. “I don’t,” she said slowly. “But you do.”
The king raised a single, thick eyebrow. “Is that so?” he said again.
She crossed her arms, focusing on Bastian’s face and blocking out the rest of the wedding. “Why would you let me become more powerful than you?”
Bastian’s eyes narrowed. “Are you accusing me of something, Temperance?”
Malice bit into his voice, and the chill from earlier returned to Tem’s spine. He was testing her, seeing whether she’d challenge him.
As it so happened, Tem was in a challenging mood. “You don’t do anything that doesn’t benefit you. You said so yourself. So why do this?”
The cool stone of Bastian’s face hardened. “Those who have no experience with power do not deserve to wield it. Would you not agree?”
The words of her father came to her suddenly:
Power corrupts.
“No,” Tem said, jutting her chin. “Those who deserve to wield power are the ones who will not be corrupted by it.”
Bastian snorted. “That is the opinion of a child. Corruption is merely the other half of the coin. It is inevitable. War is inevitable.”
“No. It isn’t.”
“Ah,” the king said. “But it is.”
Tem shook her head. She thought of the conversation she’d just witnessed between Caspen and Leo, how the two men had been willing to put aside their differences for the greater good. “It doesn’t have to be that way,” she said. “There can be peace.”
“Perhaps,” mused Bastian. “But why risk it?”
“What are you saying?” Tem whispered.
Bastian smiled at her-a cold, calculating smile. “I am saying that we cannot always get what we want, now can we?”
The same thing Caspen had said when she’d asked him to spare Jonathan’s life.
Like father, like son.
In the following silence, Tem’s heartbeat pounded in her chest.
Bastian stepped closer, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Caspen step closer too. “So, Temperance,” he said quietly. “Why don’t you tell me why I would let you become so powerful.”
Tem’s palms were beginning to sweat.
Bastian wanted war. He coveted war. The Serpent King had held power for too long, and he was not willing to relinquish it. There was no scenario in which this wedding ended with peace. Tem saw that now. The council meeting was simply a way to get the Senecas to fall in line-to get her to fall in line.
It was crystal clear to her.
Tem realized finally what the crest really was: a ruse. A false promise-a lie. Of course it was too good to be true. Of course there would be no peace. The crest did benefit Bastian after all. It was true that it would make Tem more powerful than him. But that was exactly what the king wanted. She was merely a tool-a vessel through which Bastian could ultimately take that power for himself. Caspen’s words came back to her suddenly: He is the only basilisk with enough power to crest anyone he wants.
The inevitable truth dawned.
“You plan to crest me,” Tem whispered.
A slow, sick smile twisted Bastian’s lips. “Clever girl,” he said quietly.
Her eyes flicked to Caspen’s. The question she’d asked him so long ago rushed suddenly through her mind.
What happens to a basilisk when they’re crested?
They die.
Tem looked back at the king. “If you crest me, my basilisk side will die.”
“Yes,” the king replied calmly. “It will.”
Little did Bastian know it was dying already. Tem grabbed the golden charm around her neck, brandishing it between them.
“My engagement to Caspen is bound by blood,” she said. “His life is linked to mine.”
“Yes,” the king said again, just as calmly. “It is.”
She stared at him in disbelieving epiphany. “You would sacrifice your own son?”
Bastian’s nostrils flared. “My son,” he hissed, and Tem recoiled at the vitriol in his voice, “makes irrational decisions. My son is ruled by his emotions. My son”-he leaned in, and the temperature between them rose-“is clearly not ready to be king. And you, Temperance, are certainly no queen.”
The words were eerily similar to the ones Maximus had said about Leo. Two fathers. Two kings. Both with no faith in their sons. Tem had always known that Bastian was ruthless, that all basilisks were capable of cruelty. But this was despicable.
“And if I refuse?” Tem straightened. “If I don’t perform the crest?”
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.