Page 75 of Between Two Kings

Tem frowned. “But I have your venom in my bloodstream, and you’ve never siphoned from me.”

“That is because you merely drank my venom. If I had bitten you properly—with my fangs, while wearing my true form—I would have been able to siphon from you too.”

“Thanks for not biting me, I guess.”

Caspen smiled. “You are very welcome, my love.”

Tem pictured Caspen on the stage, ripping his father’s torso to shreds. It was hard to believe that Bastian would want his power to go to the very person who had destroyed him. But such was the basilisk way.

“So…the Senecas want my power. Are they going to kill me or siphon from me?”

Caspen’s jaw tightened. “I cannot know that. But my brother was right.” It looked like the words pained him to say. “You are not safe when you are alone.”

Tem understood Caspen was afraid for her, and she could understand why. It seemed like everyone wanted to take from her. Always, always taking. It was exhausting, and Tem was tired of it. There was never enough of her to go around—never enough to make everyone who wanted something happy. It was beginning to wear on her, to rip her at the seams.

Tem sighed. Unlike the other customs basilisks adhered to, this one wasn’t sexual at all. It was serious, and it was dangerous. And it put a target on her back. From the way the basilisks in the courtyard had just looked at Tem, Caspen had every reason to be scared for her. She could feel it in the way his hands were gripping her waist a little too tight, as if he feared she might disappear.

“Caspen,” she said. “Nobody’s going to kill me. They’d be idiots if they tried.”

His grip didn’t lessen. “And why is that?”

“Because then you’d kill them.”

Caspen let out a soft laugh. “I suppose that is true.”

It was certainly true. Tem might be a tempting source of power, but Caspen was a terrifying source of wrath. She couldn’t imagine that anyone under this mountain would dare to touch her. He was already the Serpent King—there was no one more powerful.

No one except for her.

Chapter Thirteen

Sunday came quicker than Tem would have liked.

The castle was decorated for winter; great boughs of holly were strung along the arch of the entryway, and more still hung in the foyer. White candles had been traded for red ones, and the great drips of wax looked like blood. Tem couldn’t stop staring at them.

“It was Evelyn’s doing,” said Leo stiffly.

Tem frowned at the tension in his voice. Then it made sense.

The decorations were expensive. And unnecessary. Evelyn had spent money on something that had no purpose—something strictly superficial. It was an abhorrent thing to do in a time of financial crisis. Tem couldn’t believe where the woman’s priorities lay. Who cared about decorations when the villagers were starving? Evelyn, apparently.

As if on cue, Evelyn appeared at the head of the stairs. “Doesn’t the castle look beautiful?” she purred.

Neither Caspen nor Tem answered. They were both incapable of lying, and it would have been impossible to say they found this beautiful. Instead Tem took Caspen’s hand in hers and squeezed.

This is going to be a long night.

He squeezed back. Of that I am quite sure.

Leo seemed to know it too, because he didn’t say anything either. The three of them stood awkwardly as Evelyn flounced down the stairs. By the time they were seated in the dining room, Tem was already reaching for her wineglass. If she was in for a long night, she at least wanted to be drunk for it.

“Wedding preparations are going splendidly,” Evelyn said, although no one had asked.

Tem downed her wine.

“We’ve ordered sixty white swans for the occasion. They’ll look beautiful in the pond.”

Again, no one spoke. Tem couldn’t imagine how much sixty white swans had cost them or where they would even import them from. She’d never seen a single swan in the village, much less sixty of them. It was absurd.