Page 43 of Between Two Kings

Gently, Caspen removed his fingers, raising them to his lips and slowly licking them clean. When he was finished, he slid the straps of her dress back up her shoulders, covering her once more. Then he kissed her. Tem threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. She needed him so badly. Naked, raw, over and over again. The urge to mount him was so strong, she found herself pressing against him again, harder this time, willing him to give in. But this was Caspen. He never gave in.

Besides, they had arrived.

They exited the carriage together, hand in hand, Tem still thinking desperately about how a moment ago the fingers she was holding were inside her. But as soon as they entered the castle, any thoughts of sex fell away. Caspen stiffened immediately at the sight of all the gold. It was everywhere—laced into the tiles of the foyer, painted into the wallpaper. The first time Tem had come to the castle, she’d been impressed by such wealth after a lifetime on a chicken farm. Now she found it horrible, knowing the wealth had been created by the blood of basilisks.

“Right this way,” the butler said. They followed him through the halls to the same dining room Tem had waited in before the Frisky Sixty. Tem tried not to look at the door that led to the library, where all the girls had disrobed for Leo. She tried not to remember the way he’d kissed her against the other side of that door—the way he’d waited to turn the hourglass until the very last second.

Will you keep me around?

For as long as you’ll let me.

“Tem.” Caspen’s voice broke her from her memories.

“What?”

“Would you like a drink?”

A butler was brandishing a tray of champagne at her.

“No,” she said, even though her throat was dry. “Not champagne.”

“She will have a whiskey,” Caspen said.

The butler nodded, then disappeared.

In the middle of the room was a round table surrounded by four chairs. Tem stared at the seating arrangement, unsure how to proceed. The shape of the table perplexed her: it implied equality, as if none of them were more important than the others. She hoped dearly that that would remain the tone of the evening. Rather than make an executive decision, Tem opted to remain standing. Caspen seemed unconcerned with his surroundings, his gaze trained only on her, his expression calm.

You must relax, Tem.

But Tem couldn’t relax. It was the absolute last thing she could do. She was here—in the castle—and she was about to meet Evelyn. Nothing could have prepared her for this.

When she didn’t reply, Caspen squeezed her hand.

I am right here, Tem. Lean on me.

Gratitude rushed through her at his words. Caspen was right; that’s what he was here for. I will go for you, he’d said. Tem understood that meant he was here for her—to support her and to stand by her so she didn’t have to face this situation alone. She squeezed his hand in return.

When the butler returned with Tem’s whiskey, she downed it all in one gulp. A wave of fire was just hitting her sternum when she heard “Good evening.”

Tem didn’t need to turn to know the words were spoken by Leo. But she turned anyway to see him standing in the doorway, his long arms crossed. He looked closed off, as if he were protecting himself from something. Perhaps he was.

“Thank you for coming.” His gaze flicked to Caspen. “Both of you.”

Caspen didn’t respond, and Tem could only nod. Her lungs seemed to have stopped working properly; it was nearly impossible to draw air. Beside her, Caspen squeezed her hand again, but she hardly felt it. All she could focus on was the person who had just appeared behind Leo.

Dark-blond hair the color of honey. Round, pink cheeks.

Evelyn stepped forward slowly, resting her hand on Leo’s shoulder. Her white dress was conservative; not an inch of skin was showing. She looked, for lack of a better word, innocent. The polar opposite of Tem.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Evelyn said, extending her hand.

Tem stared down at it, unable to move.

Shake her hand, Tem.

But Tem couldn’t. To shake her hand would mean to accept the situation, and nothing could be more impossible. Shaking her hand meant succumbing to civility. Tem couldn’t fathom anything worse.

It was Caspen, finally, who stepped forward first.