Page 32 of Split or Swallow

Tem stared at the place where she had stood, wondering what the hell had just happened. Another cheer broke out, but Tem had no desire to return to the party. Instead, she splashed some more water on her face, glanced at her reflection in the mirror, and slipped back into the hallway.

She wandered aimlessly through the castle halls, heading vaguely upwards, taking a staircase whenever she encountered one. Eventually, she found herself in a room that looked like a study, with books on the walls and a heavy wooden desk at one end.

Tem took in the ornate rugs, the golden trim, the rich oil paintings. It was utterly different from her humble home, with its rough wooden floors and shuttered windows. She couldn’t believe such wealth existed. She could understand why her mother admired such things when she had none of her own. For the first time, Tem felt compassion for what she’d interpreted as her mother’s endless coveting. Maybe she had simply yearned for more, as Tem did.

Her eyes traced along the deep mahogany shelves, landing on an enormous fanged skull that rested on a velvet pillow. As if in a trance, Tem reached for it. Just as her fingers were about to touch the bone, a jolt shot through the claw, up her spine and down her arm, forcing her to yank her hand back immediately. Caspen’s voice thundered through her head, as strong and clear as if he were standing in the room with her:

Do not touch that.

“Why?” Tem whispered aloud to the empty room, cradling her hand against her chest. It still throbbed with his energy.

Because it does not belong to you.

His voice was so angry she wanted to cry. Too late, Tem realized what she had been reaching for. Without warning, Caspen’s mind overtook hers, and she saw a horrible montage of war: basilisks against humans, battles fought deep within the caves, the eventual near-extinction of Caspen’s entire family. Tem felt devastation, and didn’t know whether it was his or hers.

I’m so sorry, she thought, but Caspen was already gone. Her mind was empty, the claw suddenly cold. She stared at the skull numbly, wondering how humans could be so cruel. She couldn’t get the images out of her head—so much blood, so much death. Both sides had suffered, but it was clear the basilisks had sustained far greater losses. It was just like the painting she had seen downstairs.

Tem was just about to try to call Caspen back when she heard:

“Looking for something?”

Tem whipped around.

A young man stood in the doorway, staring at her. He leaned against the doorframe, his angular face cocked to the side. His ice-blonde hair was parted and slicked back, his sharp cheekbones catching the dim light of the candles. He wore a velvet suit of deep maroon, with a jeweled snake pinned to his lapel. There was a slim elegance to him that seemed vaguely familiar, and Tem realized he looked just like Lilly. They had the same thick hair, the same full lips.

So this was the prince.

CHAPTER FIVE

She’d never seen the prince up close—he was always waving from a balcony or sitting in a carriage in a parade. He was quite tall, his head nearly brushing the doorway. Tem didn’t have an answer to his question, so she said the only thing she could think of:

“Is it real?”

The prince stepped into the room.

“Is what real?”

Tem pointed at the skull. She wanted him to refute what Caspen had shown her. She wanted him to tell her it was merely a trinket—nothing more than plaster and clay.

Instead, he said:

“What do you think?”

During her silence, he approached, stopping when he was standing beside her.

“You’re displeased,” he said quietly.

“No, I—” Tem started, but had no idea how to finish, “—I’m just surprised.”

It was half the truth, at least.

“I’d rather you didn’t lie to me,” the prince said. “Plenty of people do that already.”

She looked up at him in surprise. His honesty was making her uneasy. She figured the royals were well-mannered and careful with their words. She hadn’t expected him to speak so candidly.

Rather than reply, Tem simply looked at him, and he did the same.

His eyes lingered on the low cut of her dress, taking in the curves the clingy fabric had given her. The open hunger on the prince’s face was so different than anything she’d ever known from a man. Caspen’s desire for her was always masked—lurking just under the surface, hidden beneath a restrained facade of indifference. The prince’s face hid nothing, and Tem felt an odd thrill at the thought. Before she could help herself, she whispered: