Page 131 of Between Two Kings

“I am saying that Evelyn is smart. She fooled my son once, and she has fooled him again.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You should. You are just as smart as she is.”

Tem heaved a great sigh. That was certainly no compliment. “If you don’t explain yourself, I’m going to come over there and smack you.”

Shock passed quickly over Maximus’s face, but Tem didn’t bother apologizing. He was no longer king, and even if he had been, she wouldn’t have cared anyway. She’d had enough of the men in this family tonight.

“I never liked Evelyn,” Maximus continued slowly. “At first my son met her in secret, but eventually she came to the castle. And every time she came, things went missing.”

Tem blinked. “What kind of things?”

“Forks. Knives. Cutlery of all kinds.”

“So…you didn’t like her because she was stealing forks?”

“She was stealing gold, stupid child.”

All the cutlery in the castle was a result of the bloodletting. Tem stared down at her own hands, which were turning the wires gold. She felt faint.

“She did not leave because of some ridiculous letter. She left because I offered her a higher price than what she could steal from me one fork at a time.”

Tem went cold.

Here it was, straight from Maximus’s lips: the truth. The thing she suspected but hadn’t wanted to face. The thing Leo was unwilling to face. Because if what Maximus said was true, it meant that Tem had made a terrible mistake. It meant that she had been utterly wrong in ordering Leo to find Evelyn. It meant that everything they had fought for was for nothing—that the promise of a future for him and his supposed true love was moot. It meant that Evelyn was not who she pretended to be. It meant that nothing would ever be the same.

Tem said the only thing she could think of: “Fuck you.”

Another strangled laugh, dark with vindication. “Why do you care?” Maximus sneered. “You left him just like she did. And she will leave again.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Evelyn left on the promise of riches, and I have no doubt she returned for the same.”

Tem frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means she only returned when my son became king. No doubt she thought that status would guarantee her lifestyle. As you can see”—he looked pointedly at the wires attached to Tem’s hands—“it didn’t. Evelyn did not return for love. She left once. She will leave again.”

“You can’t know that.”

“History will always repeat itself,” Maximus sneered. “We do not learn. We do not correct. We forget, and then we repeat the mistakes of our past. It’s a pattern, Temperance. One that cannot be broken.”

Tem shook her head. She refused to believe that the future was written—that they had no say in the outcome. It was what Apollo believed—that fate was predetermined. But Tem believed that history only repeated itself if you let it. And Tem would not let it.

“Tell me, Temperance. Have the villagers taken kindly to your decision?”

Guilt swooped in her stomach. “What decision?”

“The decision to cut off their food supply?”

The guilt only grew.

“Ah,” said Maximus. “You did not think it through, did you? The effects would have been nearly immediate, I assume. We pay for our imports on the day they arrive. Without the bloodletting, there would be no means to pay for more. But that was of no concern to you, was it? You just wanted to stop the bleeding.”

“I wanted to protect my people.”

“Are the villagers not also your people? Your mother raised you. Surely that counts for something.”