Page 239 of Kneel Before Me

Kronos leaned in, and she saw pain in his eyes. “That does not mean it has been easy to bear. He is not worthy of you, Daphne. No one is—not even myself.”

“Kronos—”

But Kronos was not done. His next words came out in an avalanche.

“I cannot stand the thought of you with him. If I ever see you together, I will commit an act of violence. You are so much better than him. You are radiant. He does not deserve to breathe your air, nor to be in your presence. Men like him are not men at all—they are cowards. No matter what he has promised you, it is a lie. No matter what he says he will give you, I will give you more. He is unworthy of your love. He is unworthy of your body and your time and your attention. You cannot let him have what he wants, Daphne. And if he tries to take it anyway, I will kill him.”

Daphne stared at him in shock. “Are you saying,” she whispered, “you want me to leave the competition?”

Silence fell. They looked at each other in the dim firelight. Not two minutes ago he’d told her she needed to win. Everything he’d just said went completely against that.

“If you marry him,” he said slowly, “you will accept far less than you deserve.”

Daphne couldn’t argue. What he said was true.

And she did not want to marry Maximus; she did not want to live in Lilibet’s shadow and raise Lilibet’s daughter. The day Lilibet died was the day Maximus’s life had changed forever. His center of gravity had shifted; he would forever hold the mother of his child on a pedestal. If Daphne married him, she would always be his second choice. Perhaps a month ago, that would have been enough for her. But it was not enough now. Now she wanted to be someone’s first choice. She wanted to be someone’s Lilibet. Kronos had taught her that she deserved as much.

“I know,” she whispered.

Even such an admission was progress in and of itself. Before Kronos, Daphne would have accepted that no one would ever choose her first. But he had made her believe otherwise. Kronos was the one who had taught her that she was worthy—that she mattered.

“Daphne,” he said slowly. “Even if you won the competition, it would not guarantee anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Kora must choose to pass along the power. If she does not, it will remain with the current Serpent King.”

Daphne remembered now. Even if Kronos held the highest rank, it did not mean he would gain the throne. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying,” he whispered, “it may be time for both of us to make a choice.”

Daphne thought of what Kronos had told her back when they were only beginning: It would cost me something to be with you. How far they had come since then. Perhaps they were both willing to pay the price.

Daphne opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the door to Kronos’s chambers flew open. She barely had time to be surprised at the interruption before her stomach twisted as she saw who had entered. Caspenon.

“Kronos,” the son of the Serpent King said. “I must speak with you.” His eyes fell to Daphne’s. They widened, then narrowed. She expected him to tell her to leave, but to her utter bewilderment he said, “Good. You are both here.”

Kronos looked as surprised as Daphne felt. “What is the meaning of this?”

Caspenon straightened his shoulders. “Your rank has risen. It has surpassed mine.”

Kronos frowned. His eyes flicked to Daphne’s. “How?”

Caspen crossed his arms. “I was hoping you would tell me.”

“Did the prince make his choice?”

Daphne shook her head. “Unless he chose Constance—”

“He did not choose Constance,” Caspen said.

Kronos looked at him. “How do you know?”

“My vial is still red. They are all still red.”

Daphne frowned. “What does that mean?”

Kronos turned to her. “The blood in the vial of the basilisk whose student wins the competition will turn black the moment the prince chooses a wife. If all the vials are still red, it means he has not yet proposed.”