Page 145 of Between Two Kings

“It is a matter of transference,” Apollo said. “When we take their life force, it makes us stronger. In turn, they lose the flesh that tethers them to life. They become stone.”

“Transference,” Tem repeated quietly. It wasn’t a word she had heard before.

“The power will come from here”—Apollo placed the palm of his hand over her sternum, right above her breasts, and she felt suddenly even warmer—“in your heart. You must pull it from the deepest part of you.”

“Pull?”

“Yes. The ability to petrify is already inside you. You need only wield it.”

None of that made much sense to Tem. She was getting impatient again. “But how do I wield it?”

“First you must transition.”

Tem wasn’t surprised; she’d expected this. Still, it made her nervous. Surely, Apollo would judge her if she couldn’t turn. Or worse—he would know why her body was betraying her.

“And then what?”

“And then I will guide you the rest of the way.”

Tem nodded. She couldn’t do much else. Her stomach was rapidly twisting into a knot.

“Do you still wish to proceed?” Apollo asked.

Tem hesitated. She was grateful he’d taken her here, to this dying man, where the petrification would be a blessing instead of a curse. But Caspen was right: it was a terrible thing to take a life.

“Does it hurt them?” she asked.

Apollo shrugged. “Truth be told, I do not know.”

Tem thought of Jonathan and Christopher. She wouldn’t have minded if they’d suffered. But she did not want this old man to suffer. She wanted to bring him peace and to do it as quickly as possible.

“Do you still wish to proceed?” he asked again.

Tem didn’t hesitate this time. “Yes.”

If it had been anyone else in the cottage, she might have said no. But the predator in her knew that this person was beyond life—that they were already as good as dead—that what she and Apollo were about to do would not rob them of anything that wasn’t already gone.

Apollo nodded at the chicken coop. “He will come outside to feed them at dawn. That is when we will strike.”

Tem nodded too. She was quite familiar with the feeding schedule of chickens. The sky was already beginning to lighten; dawn was not far off. They stood together, Tem watching the cottage and Apollo watching her. If Tem wasn’t already used to seeing a plethora of naked bodies beneath the mountain, it would have been downright impossible not to watch him back. But weeks of exposure had trained her for this, and with great will, she averted her eyes from his cock. Apollo, on the other hand, practiced no such discipline. He stared at her openly, shamelessly, and even as the sun rose and dappled the grass with gold, his gaze never wavered. It was only when the door to the cottage opened that he finally tore his eyes away from her to look at the man who emerged.

He was nearly doubled over. They watched as he hobbled toward the chicken coop, his shoulders hunched against the morning chill. He didn’t look up—Tem wasn’t sure he would have seen them even if he had. His eyes were sunken holes. She could smell his age. His organs were rotting, his body nothing but the vestige of a life already lived. His skin was paper thin, draped over his bones like a well-worn sheet. When he reached the coop, he paused. Tem straightened, and so did Apollo.

Wait.

Tem waited.

They watched as the man fumbled with the latch before reaching for the feed scoop. His hands shook so hard he could barely grasp the handle. A great rush of sadness filled Tem, replaced almost immediately by resolve. It was true that they were ending his life. But they were also doing him a favor. Nobody deserved to live like this.

The man was still struggling with the scoop. His fingers were swollen and gnarled—probably arthritic, and certainly painful. It wasn’t until he finally secured his grip and turned his attention to the chickens that Apollo said, Close your eyes, Tem.

Tem closed her eyes. The moment she obeyed his order, Apollo’s presence grew in her mind.

Transition now.

Tem tried to do what he said, searching within her for the thing that yearned to get out. But it was no use. She felt the familiar tightness of constraint—the same thing that had happened every day since the wedding. Tem wished she could shield herself from Apollo. Caspen never judged her when she got to this final, important stage. Now, with Apollo, Tem felt nothing but embarrassment. She was a Hybreed—she was supposed to be the most powerful creature underneath the mountain. And yet here she was, unable to do this most basic thing, helpless.

Apollo was inside her mind, and she could feel his reaction. Unlike the amusement or even cruelty she expected, he felt only gentle sympathy and great understanding.