Page 19 of Kneel Before Me

He sighed, and the sound was so familiar Daphne laughed. It was a sigh she’d heard many times before—from her mother, from the teachers at school. The sigh of utter exasperation.

At her laugh, Kronos crossed his arms. His muscles flexed. “It is no fault of mine that your human mind cannot comprehend my intelligence.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“If you are so fascinated by my riddles, solve this: What cannot be touched but can be broken?”

Daphne blinked. She’d heard plenty of riddles before—usually from Steve, the bartender at the Horseman after he’d had a few too many meads—but never that one. She frowned. “I don’t know, what?”

Kronos raised his eyebrows. “Do you not care to guess?”

Daphne shrugged. “I want to know the answer.”

“It is not only the destination that matters. There is value in the journey.”

“Oh, come on.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I can’t believe you think you don’t talk in riddles when you say shit like that.”

Kronos looked genuinely offended at her outburst. “It is not shit,” he said emphatically. “It is the truth.”

“Basilisks love the truth.”

It wasn’t a question—merely an observation given the topics they’d covered so far.

“Yes,” Kronos nodded. “We do.”

Daphne nodded too. “What else do you love?”

For some reason, he stilled. His deep golden eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re a stranger,” Daphne said. “We’re getting to know each other, aren’t we?”

It was a genuine question—she wasn’t quite sure he wanted to get to know her at all. Yet he was still here, wasn’t he? He could have left long ago. So could Daphne. They were both sitting here, inches apart, in front of a crackling fire. It was more intimate than anything she’d experienced with another human being.

“I love…” He paused, and she saw him considering his response. “The stars.”

It was an interesting answer.

“Why?”

“Because they are older than me.”

Daphne had no idea how old Kronos was. But she could imagine that for someone who had lived as long as he had, having something older than him was no small feat.

“I love them too,” she said quietly. It was true; she’d gazed at Alpha Serpentis just yesterday. It was always visible during autumn, and it was her favorite constellation.

“Why?” Kronos asked.

Daphne considered her answer. There were plenty of stars in the sky, but the winding tail of the Alpha Serpentis reminded her of a woodland path. She imagined herself following it, walking among the heavens. It was said that Kora herself—the goddess of fertility and the deity the villagers worshipped—hung the stars in the sky.

“They’re peaceful,” she said.

“That they are.”

Her eyes dropped to his hands. The unique pattern of freckles reminded her of the stars. Before she could lose her nerve, she said, “Your palms.” She pointed. “They have constellations on them.”

Kronos glanced down at his hands. He frowned, and Daphne was momentarily afraid she had offended him. Then he held them out to her.

“Would you care to take a closer look?”