Page 242 of Kneel Before Me

Her gaze flicked to his. She certainly looked well. Her cheeks had a healthy flush, her eyes were bright. The sickly paleness of the past few days was gone from her face. But there was something in her expression that he could not identify—an intensity she hadn’t possessed last night.

“Daphne,” he said again. “Is there something on your mind?”

She crossed her arms. “Yes.”

“Will you tell me what it is?”

“Only if you tell me something in return.”

Maximus straightened. An exchange. He could handle that. “What do you wish to know?”

Now Daphne paused. “Well… It’s more of something I want to see, actually.”

Whatever she wanted to see, Kora knows he would show it to her. “In that case, what do you wish to see?”

Her eyes narrowed as she spoke two words into the space between them. “The dungeon.”

Maximus wondered whether his shock showed on his face. He masked it as quickly as he could—a long-honed talent of his, necessary growing up with Augustus as his father.

“Why would you want to see the dungeon?” Maximus asked, his voice too casual, his tone too light.

Daphne drew herself up fully, looking him directly in the eye. “You know exactly why.”

What in Kora’s name was going on? Did she…know? But that was impossible. There was no way Daphne could know what happened in the dungeon. Maximus himself had not known until recently. Who could have told her?

Before he could follow this train of thought to completion, Daphne spoke again.

“Maximus,” she said sharply. “Show me.”

Now he was the one who straightened, drawing himself up to his full height, staring down at her like the future king he truly was. “Very well,” he said. “I will show you. But I cannot guarantee you will like what you see.”

“Just take me there. Right now.”

Without a word, Maximus offered his hand. Without a word, Daphne took it.

They exited the study together, walking quickly through the castle, going ever lower. Maximus led her down every single dank, dark stair, his heart growing heavier with every moment that passed. A reckoning was coming. He was sure of it. By the time they reached the bottom, Daphne was shivering.

“Here we are,” Maximus said rather uselessly.

“Open the door.”

Maximus took a key from the wall, turned it in the lock, and pushed the door open. Immediately, a chill seeped into his bones. He remembered the first time he’d been here—how disturbing the sight of the imprisoned basilisks was. Even now, it shocked him. For some reason, Daphne didn’t look shocked. She looked…sad. He watched her as she examined the cells, her eyes traveling from one basilisk to the next, taking in their slumped forms and the twisted wires.

Daphne turned to Maximus. “How can you let this happen?”

Maximus frowned. He found it odd that she hadn’t asked what the wires were for. “It is my father’s doing,” he said.

“It will be your doing as soon as you become king.”

Maximus opened his mouth, then closed it. Why were they here? Why was she confronting him about this? And how did she know? “I am not king yet,” he said.

“And once you are?”

He had no answer for her. He did not want this horrible practice to continue; he knew in his heart that it was wrong. But to reject it would be to reject his family’s legacy, and there would be no going back from that. Now that he was faced with actually choosing a side, he found it difficult to do so. Daphne spoke before he could.

“This is wrong, Max.”

“I know. But…it’s tradition.”