Page 122 of Split or Swallow

“Then what is your wish?”

The crowd seemed to disappear around them.

“To prepare you.”

“For what?”

The pulse returned, gently this time, throbbing rhythmically against her underclothing. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation. They were still closed when she heard Caspen whisper:

“For what comes.”

When Tem opened her eyes, they were no longer alone.

Another basilisk stood beside Caspen. This one had black hair that brushed his shoulders and cheekbones so sharp they reflected the light. He was several inches shorter than Caspen, with the same rigid posture. He appraised Tem with clear contempt.

“So, Caspenon,” he said, still looking at Tem. “This is your student.”

Something about the way he said ‘student’ made it clear he meant it as an insult.

“Her name is Temperance,” Caspen said, his voice purposefully even. Tem recognized his tone: it was the one he used when he was attempting to restrain his anger.

“Temperance,” the basilisk said slowly, tilting his head to get a better view of her. “Interesting.”

“And you are?” Tem asked before she could help herself.

The basilisk blinked, as if surprised she was addressing him directly.

“I am Rowe Seneca.”

“Interesting.”

Rowe is dangerous. Do not anger him.

Tem nearly jumped as Caspen’s voice returned to her mind.

Why not?

But he was already gone again.

Rowe’s gaze fell to the golden claw around her neck. A cross between disbelief and rage flashed over his face. He looked at Caspen.

“Tell me that is not what I think it is.”

Caspen tensed.

“That is none of your concern.”

Rowe stepped closer, and Caspen’s hand darted to Tem’s waist. Rowe’s eyes followed the movement with disgust.

“You are a disgrace to your quiver,” he snarled.

Caspen’s grip only tightened. “And you are a burden on yours.”

Rowe let out a bitter laugh.

“Better a burden than a traitor.”

The ballroom seemed to shrink as Caspen leaned forward, his face mere inch⁠es from Rowe’s.