Page 54 of Bitten By the Basilisk

“I suppose she does have other reasons to stay, like her mother.”

“Exactly. I just need to give her even more reasons.”

“Are you sure you want her at the banquet? I doubt your father will be welcoming.”

Silas firmly shook his head. “He’ll avoid undermining me in front of others. Right now, my biggest concern is Lance. If he challenges me tonight, Alice might find it upsetting.”

“There’s not much you can do besides warn her,” Nic said, shrugging. “But she doesn’t seem like the type to freak out…much.”

Silas sighed, knowing Nic was right. Even if Lance decided not to challenge him, which was unlikely, another rival could at this or any future gathering of serpent-folk.

After he saw Nic off, he made his way toward the Nest’s main courtyard to stroll and clear his head before more serpent-folk arrived.

His mother had overseen the courtyard’s redesign over ten years ago. Though she wasn’t an architect, her aesthetic taste could not be disputed. When he wasn’t cooking in his kitchen, he came here to decompress.

The courtyard employed several parametric features, such as a slatted canopy above the serpentine concrete walk, which passed through a pair of fountains made of rounded white stone slabs stacked from smallest to largest.

He stood near the larger of the two, his hands tucked into his pockets, and stared at the smooth sheet of water sluicing from the top slab to disappear into a bed of pure-black pebbles, where a pair of sparrows hopped in and out of the splash zone.

All too soon, the click of heeled footsteps told him someone was approaching. He pulled his attention from the two sparrows and glanced to his left.

He stood straighter, a bit surprised to see his mother, Vesta. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen her when it hadn’t been scheduled.

Though he resented the way his parents acted with each other, Vesta could be rather pleasant on her own.

She wore her usual chic style. Today’s fit consisted of high-waisted, straight-leg navy pants, a matching double-breasted wool coat, and a fluffy white turtleneck. She usually left her dark-blonde hair down, but it was currently tied back in a high, loose ponytail. The only signs of aging were fine wrinkles around her eyes and a slight hollowness to her cheeks.

“It’s been a while,” he said with an acknowledging nod.

His mother smiled softly, coming to a stop next to him and tucking her hands into her coat pockets. “You look well, now that you’re not scowling.”

“Was I?”

She gave a small nod. “I happened to be at a window when your father’s car arrived. Saw you come this way.”

He sighed as he returned his gaze to the fountain’s waterfall. The sparrows were gone. “I met someone yesterday—Grace York’s daughter—and everything in me says she’s mine. Father, of course, doesn’t approve.”

His mother made a delicate snort. “Such a snob.” She took a step closer. “Tell me about her.”

Silas felt his expression soften. “She’s clever and hardworking. Resilient. Loves art and painting. Loves her mother. And she’s incredibly beautiful.”

“She sounds wonderful,” Vesta said with sincerity. “What’s her name?”

“Alice. I managed to persuade her to come tonight.”

“Hm, I imagine she was hesitant.” His mother then sighed. “With good reason. Still, I look forward to meeting her.”

He hoped she meant it, as she always appeared to relish his father’s irritation more than anything else.

Silas’s phone buzzed against his hand inside his pocket. He checked the new message, hoping it was from Alice, but it was Bruno informing him that a charter bus of serpent-folk who had flown in from several Southern states would arrive in a few moments.

He put his phone away with a sigh. “Duty calls.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” his mother asked.

He glanced around the courtyard as he considered her offer. “Yes, actually. I already sent Nic to supervise the rest of the setup for tonight, but I’d appreciate any insights you could share with him.”

“I’d be happy to,” she said with a smile. “I’ll head straight there.”