Page 145 of Kneel Before Me

Basilisks.

They wore their human forms, but he knew immediately that he looked upon monsters. Their ethereal beauty was evident even in the dark, their aura chilling Maximus the moment he walked in. The sight of so many snakes in one place was so shocking that it took him a moment to see the way in which they were kept. Every single basilisk was shackled to the floor, their hands captured in a tangle of horrible wires that trailed up into the ceiling.

“Father…” Maximus whispered, utterly at a loss for words. “What is this?”

“This is your legacy.”

Maximus stared at the closest basilisk, a blond man with thick wavy hair. He stared at the wires welded to his fingers. If this was his legacy, he wanted no part of it. “I don’t understand.”

His father waited a long moment before speaking. “What do you know of basilisk blood?”

“Nothing.”

Maximus knew nothing about the basilisks beyond the fact that there had been a great war many years ago, and the humans had prevailed. That was the extent of his knowledge of the serpents.

Augustus turned to him. “Listen closely, Son. What I am about to tell you is a secret, passed down from king to king for generations. Nothing I say can leave this room. Do you understand?”

Maximus stared up at his father in disbelief. They’d had many private conversations before, but none of them like this one. Never in the dungeon, far below the castle, surrounded by their mortal enemy.

“I understand.”

His father nodded and gestured to the surrounding cells. “Basilisk blood is a magical substance. It can be alchemized into gold using a process called bloodletting.”

Maximus balked. “What?”

“These snakes”—his father pointed at the nearest basilisk, who didn’t even twitch—“are a source of wealth for us. When food is scarce or we have a particularly long winter, we are able to utilize their blood to pay for goods.”

“I…don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“How is this possible? How is this…allowed?”

Augusts let out a harsh laugh. “Everything is allowed, Son. The royals make their own rules.”

Maximus shook his head in an attempt to clear it. This seemed wrong. Understandable but wrong. He knew the basilisks were a terrible threat, that they lurked just beyond the wall, constantly in the periphery, ready to strike. But this…

“I don’t know what to say, Father.”

Maximus was rarely speechless. But the shock of seeing the basilisks captured in such a way was jarring him to his core. He’d been raised to fear the snakes. Now his father was telling him that there were snakes within the depths of his own castle? He couldn’t believe he’d been sleeping above this his entire life. “Aren’t they…dangerous?”

His father glanced down at him. “Do they look dangerous to you?”

They did not look dangerous to Maximus. They looked…tortured. Weak. As if to prove this theory, his father walked up to the cell directly in front of them, took a key from the wall, and unlocked it.

Then he turned to Maximus. “Come closer.”

Every instinct in his body told him not to move. It was impossible not to remember the gruesome stories, the terrifying legends of the basilisks. But the creature before him was not scary. It held the shape of a man and a weak one at that. So Maximus stepped forward, passing his father so he was standing inside the cell mere feet from the basilisk. Without prompting, he knelt. The snake before him opened his eyes.

“Hello,” Maximus said out of instinct alone. The snake did not reply, and he felt immediately stupid for saying anything at all. But it held Maximus’s gaze, golden eyes meeting gray ones. In those eyes Maximus saw nothing but pure hatred. It was a strange thing to see. Up until moments ago, he hadn’t known what was happening down here in the dungeon. But these snakes had been suffering a long time, and they blamed him. As they should, he supposed. His family was responsible for this. Disgust simmered deep in his chest, but to his surprise, it wasn’t for the snake before him. It was for his father.

Maximus stood. “Doesn’t this violate the truce?”

Augustus crossed his arms. “Of course it does. But we have a right to defend ourselves.”

He said nothing else, and Maximus did not inquire further. The royals made their own rules. That had been drilled into him since birth—that he was better than everyone else—how the guidelines of morality that others must abide by did not apply to him. It was a tenet he had always savored. But now, standing in the dungeon surrounded by prisoners, he was not so sure he savored it anymore.

“Do they have to be kept like this?” he asked.