Filed To Story: Spit or Swallow: Kiss Of The Basilisk
Before she could put her foot in her mouth again, Tem retreated to her bedroom. It was her sanctuary in more ways than one: every time the world seemed too large, she knew she could end the day alone in her bed.
Tem hung her cloak in her wardrobe before lying down and staring blankly at the ceiling. She felt endlessly tired, like the weight of the entire world was on her shoulders. And it might as well have been. If she didn’t do well tomorrow, she would let her mother down. They were humble farmers, and people like Vera looked down on them. They had nothing. If Tem were to win the prince’s hand in marriage, their entire reputation could change.
Tem wanted nothing more than to make her mother proud, which entailed getting as far along in the training process as possible. She stood no chance of winning. But if she could make it past the first elimination round at least-maybe even the second, Kora willing-then maybe her mother would forgive her when the prince didn’t choose her. There were matches available for girls who ranked highly in the training but didn’t marry the prince. She could marry a duke or a lord of some sort. But even if the prince was impressed with her-an impossibility-she wouldn’t have a true chance with him unless she was one of the final three girls. Those three girls would sleep with the prince, showing off everything they’d learned during the training. The prince would choose his wife after that.
Tem rolled onto her side with a sigh. She stared at the palms of her hands, which were sprinkled with freckles. The tiny dots of pigment trailed from the end of one palm to the other, forming a pattern across her skin not unlike a constellation.
“You hold the stars in your hands,” her mother had always said, rubbing Tem’s fingers between hers. “Just like your father.”
But when Tem had asked to know more, her mother had grown quiet, and Tem had learned quickly not to dig any deeper. She knew her father was a sore subject. Her mother had left him before she was born, and that was the extent of her knowledge. Tem had often wondered what he could have done to make her mother leave, especially given how difficult it was to run the farm without a man shouldering some of the burden. But it was useless to wonder. And Tem didn’t care to know anyway. It wouldn’t change the way the villagers whispered about them or the way Vera looked at her like she was some disgusting bug she needed to squash. Things were never to be fair for them. Tem had accepted that long ago.
The only thing that mattered was what would happen in the caves tomorrow.
Vera’s words replayed in her mind: Get some rest, Tem. You’re going to need it. Tem closed her eyes. By the time she woke, it was dinnertime.
Her mother was at the stove, tending a pot of stew. Tem pulled a loaf of bread from the cupboard and had barely begun to slice it when there was a knock on the door. Tem knew from the sound of it-five short, sharp braps-that it was Gabriel.
Her mother’s head popped up from the pot.
“Don’t let that infernal boy in.”
Tem rolled her eyes. The last time Gabriel came in, he’d accidentally knocked over the drying rack, shattering several of her mother’s favorite serving platters. Tem had spent hours trying to glue the ceramic back together, to no avail. Gabriel couldn’t help it; his limbs moved almost of their own accord, with utter disregard for inanimate objects-or people for that matter.
“I won’t,” Tem said, already gathering her cloak. She’d forgotten Gabriel had wanted to drink tonight, and now that she had remembered, it sounded like the best thing in the world.
“And don’t stay out too late,” her mother insisted.
“I won’t.”
“And don’t-“
“I won’t.” Tem placed her hands on her mother’s shoulders.
Her mother looked up at her. “Tomorrow is important, Tem. I just want you to-“
“Make an impression. I know. And I will.”
“I want you to make a good impression.”
“I will.”
Her mother didn’t look convinced. Tem wasn’t really convinced either.
Brap brap brap brap brap.
Tem glanced at the door. “I have to go. I’ll be back early, I promise.”
She pressed a quick kiss to her mother’s temple before throwing on her cloak and opening the door. There stood Gabriel, all six chaotic feet of him. He wore a long leather jacket, his caramel hair lightly tousled from the walk over.
“Leather?” Tem said. “Really? You said you weren’t trying to take someone home tonight.”
“I’m always trying to take someone home.” Gabriel stuck his head through the doorframe to give Tem’s mother a jaunty wave. “Hello, Mrs. Verus. You’re looking lovely this evening.”
Tem’s mother gave him a scalding glare.
Gabriel was unfazed. “What’s cooking? Smells delightful,” he crooned.
“We’ll be back soon,” Tem said hurriedly, pushing Gabriel onto the porch.
He threw his arm around her as they stepped into the garden. “Your mother doesn’t seem to like me anymore.”
“You terrorized her serving platters. The woman holds a grudge.”
“Pah.” Gabriel flicked his fingers as if that was of no concern to him. “Give me a week. I’ll be back in her good graces.”
Knowing Gabriel, he would be.
“But enough about me.” His arm tightened around her. “Can you smell that, Tem?”
“Smell what?”
He made an exaggerated show of sniffing the air. “That is the smell of your virginity disappearing into the wind.”
She shoved him as hard as she could, with little effect.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t be trying to get you laid tonight?” he continued without missing a beat. “It couldn’t hurt to get you some practice before tomorrow.”
“With who?” Tem asked bitterly.
“I’m sure we can find a lively bartender who would delight in your company.”
“The only bartender at the Horseman is Old Steve. You want me to fuck Old Steve?”
“No. But I’m sure Old Steve wouldn’t mind fucking a pretty young thing like-“
She smacked his arm. “Why don’t you fuck Old Steve?”
Gabriel gasped dramatically. “Please, Tem. I have standards.”
“Not that I can see.”
“Bit feisty tonight, are we?”
She smacked him again, and this time he threw his hands up in surrender.
“Fine, neither of us will fuck Old Steve. His loss. I, on the other hand”-he grasped the lapels of his leather jacket, snapping it down smartly against his shoulders-“am on a mission to get the stable boy to notice me.”
Tem frowned. “From what I saw last night, Henry already noticed you.”
“No, not Henry. Peter.”
“What’s wrong with Henry?”
“Nothing. He’s been commissioned for a travel assignment. He’ll be gone for the next two weeks.”
“What travel assignment?”
“He’s helping ferry people in for the eliminations.”
It was customary for the prince’s extended family to congregate for the duration of the training. Those with a high enough ranking would stay in the castle, while the rest would infiltrate the village’s inns. It was a notoriously fruitful time for the village economy. Even the homeliest bed-and-breakfast would experience a boost from the uptick in wealthy patrons.