Page 224 of Between Two Kings

Of course Caspen hadn’t heard of this. No one had. Her own father only knew about it because he’d experienced it himself.

But Caspen shook his head. “I do not believe you,” he said again, quietly this time. But Tem knew that he did. He reached for the goblet on the ground, picking it up and downing its contents. Tem looked questioningly at Apollo, who simply shook his head.

The elixir was supposed to make the basilisks merry—Tem had only seen it improve their mood. But now she was sure it was doing the opposite to Caspen. His eyes were glazed over, his skin flushed. Caspen always moved with incomparable grace, his motions carefully controlled. Now he was loose, as if someone had unscrewed his joints. Tem didn’t recognize him like this; he was not himself.

“You should have told me how you felt about him,” Caspen said roughly.

“I did tell you,” Tem whispered.

“I would never have let you crest him if I had known—”

“I told you that I—”

Caspen turned and hurled the empty goblet down the passageway with such force, it struck a gash in the stone wall. Tem gasped in shock. She’d never seen Caspen react like that before. When he turned back to her, she saw scales dappling his chest. Tem had never seen the look on his face that she was seeing now. She couldn’t believe it had come to this.

Beside her, Apollo touched her waist.

“I thought you merely cared for him, which I understood, given your circumstances. But you sent him away, Tem. You chose me.”

Everything he was saying was true. Tem had chosen Caspen. But her mind had made the choice—not her heart. And the heart was not so easily swayed. “I don’t know what to say, Caspen.”

He stepped closer. “Say you made the right choice. Say you do not love him.”

Only one of those statements was true. “Caspen, please.”

But Caspen would not be persuaded. She could see it in his eyes: he was past the point of no return.

“Say it, Tem. Now.”

“I made the right choice.” It was all she said. The silence hardened between them.

Tem knew Caspen was waiting for her to say the second part. But she couldn’t. There was no point in lying. Her body probably wouldn’t let her anyway.

It was all coming to a head now. Tem didn’t know whether it was ego or denial or sheer hope that had blinded Caspen for so long, but now there was no more hiding, no more pretending that Tem didn’t feel the way she felt about Leo.

“This cannot happen, Tem. You cannot sleep with him. If you do, I will have to—”

His voice cracked, and he broke off. The elixir had made him slow—made it so the real conclusion was coming to him now, a minute too late. Caspen’s eyes met hers. Tem knew he wouldn’t finish his sentence, and she didn’t even want him to. She still remembered every word of their conversation—the one where Caspen had told her that his father killed his mother. If Tem consummated the crest, he would be forced to do the same.

Caspen whirled on Apollo. “How long have you known?”

Apollo glanced at Tem, his hand still on her waist.

“Do not look at her. Look at me. When did you find out?”

Apollo sighed. “Recently, Brother.”

It was all he said. But it was more than enough.

Caspen’s eyes narrowed. “You knew and you did not tell me.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, and it was true.

Caspen had uncovered the worst of them. He was finally caught up, finally privy to the secret that Tem had been keeping for so long. But even worse than her betrayal was Apollo’s. She did not know their history, but she knew enough to recognize that it was playing out again, right now, with her. History would always repeat itself, just as Maximus said.

Caspen turned to her. “It is a shame you do not love my brother, Tem,” he said coldly. “You two are perfect for each other.” He delivered his last two words as he looked straight in her eyes. “Both liars.”

Tem knew he was angry and lashing out. But it didn’t make it hurt any less. “Caspen,” she whispered. “You said it yourself. I chose you. I haven’t slept with him. I haven’t consummated the crest.”