Page 278 of Split or Swallow

Wait—please. I need to know—which king can’t I trust?

He took a long time to answer. But finally:

Ours.

Bastian.

But why?

Her father took a deep breath, and the shackles bolting him to the floor clinked softly.

He values power above all else.

Most kings do.

Kronos shook his head, the motion clearly paining him.

Power corrupts.

It was all he said. Tem thought about what Bastian had already done to gain his power—what he had asked Caspen to do. Power did corrupt. It was crookedly tempting and cruel. It turned men into monsters, or perhaps monsters into men. Which was worse? Tem didn’t know anymore.

Kronos spoke again:

You have lingered too long. Go.

Tem’s grip tightened on the bars.

I don’t want to leave you.

Go, child. And do not return.

Tem knew he was right. She’d been down here far too long already—Leo could be awake by now. If he noticed her absence, it would only anger him further.

She dropped her hands reluctantly, taking one last look at her father.

I’ll come back for you. I promise. Just hold on. Please.

He didn’t reply.

There was nothing else to say. Tem retraced her steps out of the dungeon until she reached the stairs that led back up to the castle. She ascended them as quickly as she could and by the time she got to the main floor, her calves were screaming in protest. She was just crossing through the foyer when the parlor door opened and the last person she wanted to see emerged.

“Temperance,” Maximus said slowly, his calculating eyes flicking to her bare feet. “What brings you out of bed at such an early hour?”

The question was casual. The implication was not.

Tem sensed immediately that Maximus knew she’d been searching for things he didn’t want her to find. When she didn’t answer, the king stepped closer.

“Does my son know you’re sneaking around his home?”

Tem threw a question right back at him:

“Does your son know what goes on in his home?”

Maximus paused, his eyes narrowing.

“I do not know of what you speak.”

A lie. There was only one secret she could be referring to—one horrible, abominable thing the royals kept to themselves.