Page 99 of Between Two Kings

“Can’t I give him my venom?”

“You can,” Caspen said slowly. “But anyone could still petrify him.”

“Isn’t there some way to protect him from that?”

There was always a loophole, always a way to bend the rules. But Caspen shook his head. Tem knew she was requesting too much of him—searching for exceptions and miracles.

“No. It is permanent.”

“I don’t mean a way to reverse it. Isn’t there some way to prevent it in the first place?”

“Not that I know of. It is our most ancient weapon. We are not immune to it ourselves.”

Tem thought about how the villagers had won the war with mirrored shields. If basilisks themselves could be petrified by their own gaze, there was no hope of protecting Gabriel.

“He wouldn’t be coming here as an enemy, Caspen. It would be a way for him to experience what I’ve experienced, a way for him to see the good.”

“Are you willing to put his life in danger for that?”

Tem paused before answering quietly, “His life isn’t the only one in danger.”

There was no other way to say it, no other way to convince him that this was about so much more than just Gabriel seeing how the basilisks lived. The burning church flashed through her mind. This was only the beginning. Tem was sure of it.

She thought of the last thing she’d said to Gabriel, in the cold and windy alley:

When will it be enough?

When they give back what they took from us.

But what had been taken? Did Gabriel mean the food the villagers had lost since the bloodletting stopped? Or did he mean something deeper—the lives of Jonathan and Christopher, something that couldn’t be given back? Either way, they had to try.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Tem whispered.

Caspen took a deep breath, turning to look at her. “If your friend gets hurt, you will never forgive me.”

Tem frowned. Is that what this was about? Was Caspen worried about the effect this could have on their relationship if things went badly? It was a worry Tem did not share. She knew Caspen would never let any harm befall Gabriel. Even if he didn’t agree with him coming here, he had agreed to protect the people she cared about.

“What if this is our only hope?”

Caspen shook his head. “This is hardly hope. It is delusion.”

His words stung. But Tem understood them. “Caspen,” she murmured. “It will only get worse—all of it. If we don’t try to make peace with the villagers, there could be another war.”

He snorted. “We are far from another war, Tem.”

A few months ago, she might have believed him. But the desecration of the church was an act so extreme, she didn’t know what the villagers might do next. “I’m being serious,” Tem insisted. “If he came here, he would love it. I know he would.”

“I cannot guarantee his safety, Tem.”

“But can’t you…I don’t know…call a council meeting or something? They could guarantee his safety, couldn’t they?”

For some reason, Caspen went very still. He looked at her for a long time, so long she became nervous beneath his gaze.

“What is it?” she insisted.

“There is no need for a council meeting,” he said quietly.

“Why not?”