Page 156 of Kneel Before Me

Maximus did not bother protesting. He could do no more here, and by the look on his father’s face, disobeying was no longer an option. He followed Augustus to the carriage, staring determinedly out the window as it pulled away from the village.

“Explain yourself,” his father said. His voice was deceptively calm.

“Blood was being shed,” Maximus said through gritted teeth. “So I intervened. Any good king would have done the same.”

“Basilisk blood deserves to be shed.”

They held rather differing opinions on that at that moment.

“There were villagers in the line of fire,” he threw back. “Our people, Father. Or have you forgotten?”

“It is you who has forgotten your place. I should take that crown from your head.”

Instinctually, Maximus touched the crown. Somehow, despite everything that had just happened, it was still on his head. It was heavy.

“You passed it to me,” he snapped. “That was your choice. You cannot control what I do now that I wear it.”

Maximus knew he was out of line. Yet he also knew that his father responded to power. If he allowed Augustus to take the crown back, he was not worthy of it in the first place.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. When they reached the castle, his father stalked off into the parlor, slamming the door behind him. Maximus ascended the stairs, checking on Lilly before shutting himself in his bedroom. He removed the crown slowly, setting it on the mantel and staring at the intricate gold whorls. Diamonds nestled in numerous nooks. It was a gaudy thing, not meant for personal use, its sole purpose to represent power. The gold shone in the firelight. For some reason, the sight made Maximus sick. Generations of kings in his family had worn this very same crown, passed down from their fathers just as his father had passed it to him. How much basilisk blood had been spilled to make it?

It was an honor. It was a burden.

He ran a weary hand over the back of his neck, touching the raised scars there. They were supposed to tether him to his family—to his father, specifically. But most days they felt like a noose around his neck, ever tightening, unyielding. Being king is about doing what needs to be done.

What if he wanted to do things differently than his father had? He was already well on his way to doing so. There was only one person who was truly in charge of his future, and it was not the current king. If he wanted to rule his kingdom his own way, he would. And if he wanted to choose Daphne, he would. That was the entire plan, after all. He had no desire to live in a world where she was not the center of his orbit. In recent days he had dared to dream about a life with her. He knew it was unlikely, if not downright impossible. But he dreamed nonetheless. He pictured her in a white dress, walking down the aisle toward him. He pictured her holding Lilly, like she’d done the first night they met. He pictured her holding more children too, ones they would have together.

Maximus shook his head, crossing to the bar cart to pour himself a glass of wine. He took a healthy gulp, then poured some more. Did Daphne get away from the guards—from the basilisks? His thoughts ran wild, spinning entirely out of his control. What if the serpent woman had circled back for her and her brother had followed? He couldn’t stand not knowing. Before he could decide what to do about it, there was a knock on his door. Maximus frowned, sighed, downed his wine, and opened the door.

“Your Highness.” The last person he wanted to see. Constance.

“What are you doing here?”

“Your father sent for me,” she said, sweeping into the room before he could stop her. “He thought you might like some company.”

Maximus had neither the time nor the stamina to explain to her how wrong she was. If he wanted company at all, it certainly wasn’t hers. Constance was already crossing to the bed, sitting on the edge and looking up at him expectantly.

“Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?”

Maximus didn’t even hesitate. “No.”

“No?”

“Constance, darling. I can offer you nothing. I’m afraid you won’t find what you are looking for here.”

“But your father said—”

“My father.” Maximus crossed to the door, holding it open for her expectantly. “Was mistaken. I do not desire company tonight. At least, not yours.”

Hurt flashed over Constance’s face, but it had no effect on him.

Maximus was filled with a lightning strike of adrenaline that made him feel as if he could accomplish anything. Even this. He pushed the door open even farther. “I shall escort you out.”

Constance hesitated for a moment longer, her mouth twisted in displeasure. At last she stood, sweeping out of the room just as smoothly as she’d swept in. He walked her all the way to a carriage, not bothering to say goodbye. Then he climbed into one himself.

“Take me to Daphne Verus’s home.”

The footman frowned. “I don’t know where she lives.”