Filed To Story: Spit or Swallow: Kiss Of The Basilisk
“You seriously can’t go two weeks without kissing a stable boy?” Tem said.
Gabriel laughed. “I could. But why would I want to?”
She had no answer to that.
By the time they got to the Horseman, Tem was aching for a drink. The bar was busier than usual, which wasn’t a surprise. The entire village was on edge, anticipating the events of the next several weeks.
“Beers?” Gabriel said.
“You’re buying.”
“Anything for you, dearest.”
Tem slid into their usual booth and looked around the room. There was Vera, sequestered in a corner with Jonathan. She was sitting aggressively close to him, practically on his lap, with her breasts pushed together. Two tables over was a group of girls talking excitedly. Tem recognized them; they would be going through the training with her. She wondered if they were as nervous as she was. If the way they were laughing was any indication, she doubted it.
By the time Gabriel returned with the beers, Tem’s stomach had worked itself into a fiddly knot.
“To Kora,” Gabriel said, raising his glass to hers. It was the traditional toast.
“To Kora.” Tem downed half her beer in one gulp.
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Thirsty?”
“Very.”
He followed her gaze to Jonathan and Vera, who were kissing each other like it was their last night alive. He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t they know they’re in public?”
“True love waits for no one,” Tem said bitterly.
Gabriel snorted. “That’s not true love. That’s an unplanned pregnancy waiting to happen.”
Tem had to laugh at that. She doubted Vera was stupid enough not to take the infertility herb, considering how much sex she had on a weekly basis. All the girls took it, including Tem, although it wouldn’t matter during the training; it wasn’t possible to become pregnant by a basilisk. At least that’s what everyone said. But the same stories had circulated the village for years that, in extremely rare cases, it was possible. And if it were to happen, the baby would be an abomination of nature: half human, half basilisk, forever caught between the two species, never fully fitting in with either. But that was nonsense. Nobody Tem knew had ever met such a creature, and there was no reason to believe the rumors.
Gabriel’s voice pulled her from her musings: “Who do you think will win?”
Tem looked up at him. “Win what?”
“The prince’s hand in marriage, of course. Who will be the lucky lady?”
Tem found it telling that he didn’t automatically assume it would be her. Even her best friend had no faith in her abilities. She could only answer with the truth. “Vera. She doesn’t even need the training.”
“Hm,” Gabriel said thoughtfully, taking a sip of his beer. “She’s too easy. Men don’t like that.”
Tem cocked an eyebrow at Jonathan, whose hands were unashamedly down the front of Vera’s dress. “It would seem that men do.”
“That’s not a man, Tem. That’s a boy.”
Tem could hardly tell the difference. “Who do you think will win?”
Gabriel shrugged. “You, of course.”
Tem blinked. Maybe he did believe in her after all. “You must be joking.”
“I’m not. Why shouldn’t the prince choose you?”
“I can think of a hundred reasons.”
“Name one.”
Tem could’ve listed them all, but she chose the most obvious. “I’m inexperienced.”
“That’s what the basilisk is for.”
It was the conversation at the bakery all over again.
Tem bristled. “I know what the basilisk is for. But even if I learn everything there is to learn, I’ll never look like that.” She jerked her head at Vera, who was barely distinguishable from Jonathan.
Gabriel scoffed. “If you ever look like that, I’m never hanging out with you again.”
She shot him a glare. “Be serious, Gabriel.”
“I am serious, Tem. You’re too hard on yourself. You’re a catch.”
“It doesn’t count when you say it.”
“Does it count when Old Steve says it? Because I’m sure he would if we asked him.”
Tem resisted the urge to pour her beer on his lap. “The prince has to think I’m a catch. And I can assure you, he won’t.”
Gabriel tapped her twice on the nose. “You’ll never land a man with that attitude.”
“The prince is hardly a man,” she grumbled, swatting his hand away.
The prince was twenty years old, just like Tem. Only girls born in the same year as the prince were eligible for the training. She’d never seen the prince up close, although if Vera’s bullshit story about running into him in the town square was to be believed, his eyes were green. Tem didn’t believe the story, and she definitely didn’t care what color his eyes were.
“It could be worse, you know,” Gabriel said.
“What could?”
“The training. At least the prince will make his choice based on who he likes in bed. If it were based on other skills, you’d have no chance at all.”
Tem frowned. “What other skills?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Cooking, for example.”
“Cooking?”
“I’ve had your shepherd’s pie, Tem.” He wrinkled his nose. “Gamey.”
Thankfully, at that moment, Peter walked through the door.
Gabriel leaped to his feet, adjusting his jacket and running a hand through his hair. “Duty calls,” he said before making a beeline for the stable boy.
After that, there was nothing left for Tem to do but watch Vera and Jonathan test the bounds of what was appropriate to do in public. Two beers later, Tem was ready to go.
True to her word, she wasn’t home late. But the cottage was quiet when she arrived, her mother already in her room, probably asleep in anticipation of an early morning on the farm. Tem washed her face in the bathroom before crawling into her bed and staring once more at the ceiling. Usually, she would touch herself before falling asleep, but the thought of meeting the basilisk tomorrow was so intimidating that she couldn’t even do that. She tossed and turned violently, unable to settle.
When she finally slept, she dreamed of fire.
It didn’t burn her. Rather, it warmed her gently, from the tips of her toes to the base of her skull. The fire felt familiar somehow, as if it were sent by someone she had known a long time ago. Flames licked her fingers, her palms, her arms. A single breath brushed her cheek. Then it was over.