Page 267 of Kneel Before Me

Very well. We will do this for the good of our families. Are we agreed?

We are agreed.

“We will marry,” Caspen said aloud. “As long as there is no blood bond.”

His father shook his head. “A blood bond is preferable.”

“Not for me,” Caspen said.

“Or for me,” Adelaide said.

His father shook his head again. “It would be prudent to—”

“Do not speak to me of prudence, Father. You cannot force a blood bond. They are based on love, and we do not love each other.”

Despite the truth of his statement, a flash of hurt crossed Adelaide’s face. It was quickly replaced by resolve. “Exactly,” she said. “And we never will.”

If Caspen had the energy to be insulted, he would have been. As it stood, he was already weary of this discussion and wanted nothing more than for it to be over. It did not matter to him whether he pledged himself to Adelaide. Centuries of life had taught him that everything, even engagements, marriages, and wars, would eventually pass. One day he would be free again.

His father frowned. It did not surprise Caspen that he preferred a blood bond. The permanence of a blood-bound engagement would be seen as a gesture of good faith. But it was impossible to complete one when neither party loved each other. No basilisk, no matter how willing, could force such a bond without love.

“Very well,” his father said finally. “But you will wed by the end of the week.”

Basilisks did not have weddings like the humans did. Engagements bound by blood were sealed when both parties created a token for the other to wear. Engagements without a blood bond were even simpler. A formal blessing by the Serpent King was enough to legitimize the union.

The king looked at Adelaide, who nodded. Then he looked at Caspen, who nodded too.

And so it was done.

Caspen had spent the rest of the week in a state of barely controlled chaos, sleeping with anyone that moved. Like all basilisk marriages, there would be no expectation of exclusivity with Adelaide. The only way to be unfaithful as a basilisk was to be unfaithful with your heart. Falling in love with someone who was not your betrothed was forbidden, but there would be no danger of that with Caspen. He had no interest in falling in love. Instead, he had his fill of what felt like every basilisk under the mountain before finally retiring to his room, alone, to sleep. Then the dream had come.

The fire was nothing but embers now. With a sigh, Caspen set the unfinished glass of wine on the mantel before returning to bed. The training would begin later today, and it would be uneventful. Human women were pathetically simple, human men even more so. It had almost become too easy in recent years to train the young woman to be chosen by the prince. Caspen abhorred the process. Sex was meant to be wild and free, and there was nothing passionate about his lessons in the cave. But such was his role, and Caspen accepted it as much as the other basilisks did. The war had not been kind to them—the truce even less so. Training the prince’s future wife was patronizing, reducing the basilisks to their most basic skill set and forcing them to have boring sex with humans. It was an insult. But it was better than war.

Caspen rolled onto his back before closing his eyes.

The day would be a long one, and he was in no mood to face it. With nothing left to do, he fell back asleep. When he woke, he had forgotten the dream, and it was time for the training.

Caspen stood perfectly still in the middle of the cave.

The women were gathering outside; he could smell their fear, and with it came his arousal. The predator in him awoke, rearing its eager head. Whoever came into his cave would be nubile, young, and afraid. A virgin, possibly. Caspen would prefer it so. It was easier to teach someone with no experience. That way there were no bad habits to unlearn.

Suddenly, a mind beckoned to his.

The sensation was immediately familiar; Caspen recognized it from the dream—the same sexual allure, the same deep, ancient knowing. Before Caspen could rationalize this, a woman emerged from the shadows.

Her eyes were bright. Determined. It was not a look he was used to seeing on humans, and Caspen had met plenty of women during his time in the caves. This woman was different. She was new, and she was dangerous. There was an element to her that Caspen could not understand—an undeniable pull—an attraction he could not control. Her eyes traveled over him the same way his traveled over her, observing each other in silence.

Caspen was the first to step forward. “What is your name?”

The young woman swallowed. “Temperance,” she managed to whisper. “But I go by Tem.”

Again, her mind beckoned. It should be impossible for her to call to him this way. Most human minds were dull wastelands. Hers was a nebulous tangle of depth and darkness. It was like looking into the cosmos. Caspen wanted to be inside her. But that was not a possibility right now, and for once, he practiced restraint. Instead, he decided to reciprocate.

“My name is Caspenon. But I go by Caspen.”

“Caspen,” she said.

He wished she would say it again. He wanted to hear her say it a hundred times—a thousand if fate allowed it. There could be nothing sweeter than the consonants of his name on her tongue. But she did not speak again. There was a long silence, and in it, he studied her.