Page 265 of Kneel Before Me

Their entire family was broken. Deltene was gone, and with her the calming presence she brought to the family. Bastian ruled the basilisks with an iron fist, becoming more erratic and power-hungry as the years went on. The bloodletting only increased. More and more basilisks disappeared, always more Senecas than Drakons. Caspen did not understand the discrepancy. All he knew was that the quivers became restless because of it. In the wake of cresting Solomon, Caspen lost the favor of many former friends, including Adelaide. She was among the basilisks who no longer respected him now that he had broken their most fundamental rule. It did not matter that power had remained with the Drakons; Caspen did not want victory if it felt like this. He did not want anything if it felt like this. Corruption was a poison his father had cultivated, that Caspen vowed to eradicate. He did not know whether he would ever become Serpent King. All he knew was that he would not crest another basilisk again—he would not do the unthinkable simply so that the Drakons could be in charge. Caspen knew some things were not worth the power. There was always another way.

Eventually, another competition cycle would begin.

Eventually, Maximus’s son would be ready to choose a wife.

Caspen would be ready to train her.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Daphne

The first few days without him were torture. Only after that did Daphne begin to forget.

Do not follow me. Do not come looking for me.

At first she woke suddenly during the night, crying his name. Sometimes she made it halfway out the door before she remembered she couldn’t go to the caves to see him. She couldn’t go anywhere to see him. Every time she turned toward the castle, an oppressive sensation returned to her chest—one that prevented her from moving. It was like wandering into dense fog. She did not know what she was looking for, only that she wished she could find it. Eventually, she slept through the night. After that things were easier.

You will do whatever it takes to keep yourself alive and safe. You will take care of yourself because I will not be there to do it for you.

Daphne abandoned being a seamstress and moved to a chicken farm. It did not matter that she had no husband; the crowing of the rooster gave her shelter in ways no man could. She surrounded herself with the one thing that would isolate her, shielding herself from the memory of the life she’d once had.

Tell yourself whatever you have to in order to leave me, Daphne. You will forget who we are to each other; you will forget what we have.

She named their daughter Temperance. It meant moderation. Restraint. Their child would never know her father. The thought made Daphne sad but also resolved. She told herself she left him, that his family would not let them be together, that he had chosen another. He never visited, and eventually she stopped expecting him to. The little bottle of salt spray stood on her dresser. She no longer used it.

When fate reunites us, you will remember.

The newly crowned king married Constance, who became pregnant shortly after. Daphne watched as their bellies grew nearly in tandem. Constance died during childbirth. Daphne tried not to think about the effect such a death surely had on Maximus. A heart that was already hardening now calcified to stone. Their child was a blond-haired boy named Thelonius. He was the spitting image of his father—a son to continue his legacy.

You have a life to live, Daphne. I demand that you live it.

Daphne’s own legacy was still being formed. She wished for her daughter a love that was real and true. She also wished a life of balance for her. Somehow it was the one thing she was unable to cultivate in her own—the tenet she was missing. Perhaps her daughter would be different. She hoped she would be. Daphne would raise her daughter to accept the love she deserved—a daughter who was brave enough to ask for more. The cycle of shame would end with her. Every time Daphne looked at the freckles on Temperance’s hands, she felt the pull of what she had lost. It was faded now—a tarnished memory. It did not do to dwell upon the past. Daphne had a life to live.

I will find my way back to you. That is a promise.

Temperance was almost twenty years old.

Perhaps history would repeat itself and her daughter would win the prince’s heart.

Perhaps Daphne would go to the castle for the wedding.

TWENTY YEARS LATER

Caspen awoke soaked in sweat.

That was not unusual; most of his nights were spent participating in sweat-inducing activities. But tonight, on a fleeting urge, he had retired to his chambers early and fallen asleep alone. Now he sat up, running a hand through his damp hair. The dream had been short, and undeniably sexual in nature. That was not unusual either. But unlike most of his dreams this one had not been about a basilisk.

Caspen was well-versed in reading energy. All basilisks could sense a human, even in the darkness, the same way a predator could sense its prey. But the young woman in the dream had not felt like prey. She had felt like his equal. His superior, even.

But that was impossible.

It was a blasphemous thing to imagine. Basilisks answered to no one. They were the most powerful creatures to walk the earth. Humans and animals alike cowered before them. Yet there was something different about the woman in his dream. Something…new. Or perhaps ancient. There was a fine line between the two, and it was difficult to tell the difference.

Caspen stood, crossing to the shelf and selecting a bottle. Alcohol did not get him drunk, but he had always enjoyed the sweet taste of wine. He poured a glass and stared into the fire as he sipped it. Dreams were significant to basilisks. He briefly considered finding someone to confide in but discarded the idea immediately. The only person he could consult was his father, and he had no desire to speak to him.

The king had been impossible as of late, losing his temper at the slightest provocation. Caspen knew it was due to the tension between the quivers. The Senecas had been restless for years now. More Senecas had been captured for bloodletting than Drakons, and the discrepancy had contributed to great turmoil. It was becoming impossible to coexist under the mountain. Caspen could not remember the last time he had walked through the passageways without receiving scathing glares from anyone outside his quiver. He could understand their anger. He had crested Rowe’s father, and that action was unforgivable. But it was done now, and he could not take it back. There would be no redemption for Caspen. He had accepted that long ago.

The fire was nearly out, but he did not bother to stoke it. Instead, his thoughts wandered to the council meeting he had endured earlier that week. The meetings were becoming more frequent now, a clear indication of the turbulent state of things.