Page 245 of Kneel Before Me

“What?”

This had taken a turn. The entire conversation was spinning well out of Maximus’s control. The thing he loved most about her—her compassion—was creating a chasm between them now. When his father had first shown him the bloodletting, Maximus had been horrified. Somewhere deep inside, he’d suspected Daphne would not approve of it. Now, as she told him point-blank that his suspicion was correct, he was terrified at the prospect of granting her demand. To change centuries of tradition was to change the entire course of the future. It was too great a responsibility for him. But if he didn’t do it, he would lose her. She was drawing a line between them—stating an ultimatum—forcing him to choose.

“You said you would try,” Daphne whispered. “Remember? You said you would try to be a good king for me.”

Maximus did remember. “That was before. Things have changed, Daphne.”

“Before what?”

They were coming to the truth at last—the thing he suspected in his heart yet did not want to voice aloud. Yet she had given him no choice.

“Before I knew I had no chance with you. Perhaps I had one once. But not anymore. Am I wrong?”

She pursed her lips.

He leaned closer, repeating his question deliberately. “Am. I. Wrong?”

Daphne still didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. If Maximus had had a chance with her, that window was closed. Maybe it had never truly been open. At no point during the competition had her heart bent in his direction. He’d only seen her look at one person the way he wished for her to look at him. She had only ever wanted one thing.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” he said, already knowing he was right. Anger began to course through him. “That snake. You care about him, and he cares about you. I saw it when he came to the castle. I saw the way he looked at you. Is that why you want me to end this?” He threw his arms out wide. “You want to save his brothers and sisters? They would not save you in return, Daphne. The snakes are our enemies.”

“You don’t know anything about them.”

“And I suppose you do?”

She jutted her chin defiantly. Of course she did. No doubt her teacher had filled her head with all sorts of lies.

“Just because you don’t understand them,” she said quietly but firmly, “does not make them your enemy.”

“What would you have me do, Daphne? I cannot free them. If I do that, the kingdom will be in peril.”

“These people are in peril.”

“They are not people.”

Even he was surprised at the harshness of his tone.

Daphne took a step back from him. “What happened to you, Max?” she whispered. “What happened to your heart?”

Her words killed him. He did not know how to answer.

“Can’t you feel empathy?” Daphne insisted. “Can’t you care?”

“I could once,” he whispered.

“Yes.” She nodded, tears filling her eyes. “Once. But not anymore.”

In the depths of his soul, Maximus knew she was right. Daphne was breaking what was left of his heart. Without her, there was no point to any of it—no reason for him to try to be better. Without her, there was nothing.

“Just leave me, Max.”

“No.”

“Maximus.” She placed her hands flat against his chest. “Leave me.”

But he couldn’t. Daphne was here, right in front of him. It had taken them so long to get here; it had been agony to wait for this—for her. He couldn’t let her go any more than he could let go of one of his own limbs.

“I will leave you,” he said slowly, “when you say his name.”