Page 94 of Kneel Before Me

Daphne paused. “I’m putting it outside.”

“Why not kill it?”

She raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Why would I kill it when I can just release it?”

“Because it might come back inside.”

She shrugged. “If it comes back inside, I’ll release it again.”

“Seems like a lot of work.”

“Less work than murder.”

“Murder? It’s a bug, Daphne. Not a human being.”

“It’s sentient. It has thoughts and feelings and a family.”

Maximus didn’t know what to say to that. His expression must have betrayed him, because Daphne continued.

“In the village, we value life. I know what it means to kill another creature.”

“But it’s a bug, Daphne.”

“I am fully aware that it’s a bug. It may be smaller than me, but its life is no less important.”

Maximus crossed his arms. This was beginning to feel an awful lot like a lecture. “I understand the value of a life,” he snapped. “I’m not naive.”

Daphne stared at him. “You were raised in a castle, Max. Your food is prepared for you. The animal that provides your meat was killed by someone else. Your room is cleaned for you. Somebody probably dressed you this morning. You have no clue what it means to take a life, especially when it’s necessary to do so. You have no idea what it means to survive.”

“Nobody dressed me this morning.”

“Then someone picked your outfit.”

Maximus opened his mouth to argue but immediately closed it. As much as it hurt to hear, it was the truth. Someone had laid his outfit out on the bed. His personal butler did it every evening so it was there when he woke up. It was humiliating, Maximus realized. Why the fuck did he allow it? He would tell his staff to cease the practice immediately. There wasn’t much else he could do—it’s not like he could start killing cows—but his clothing, at least, he could control.

Daphne held the glass and the coaster out to him. “See how you like holding another creature’s life in your hands.”

Maximus knew Daphne wanted him to show mercy—to do what she, in her opinion, considered the right thing. The spider was frozen in place, as if waiting for him to make his decision—as if giving him an opportunity to think this through. Part of him wanted to make Daphne proud. Truth be told, he wanted that more than anything.

Maximus took the glass. Then he hesitated.

He could not change his inherent nature. He’d been raised at the top of the food chain, and Daphne was right—he did not know what it meant to survive. Perhaps the only thing to do when presented with such a situation was to follow his instincts. The world they lived in existed because of people like Maximus. His family was responsible for the hierarchical structure of their society, and he specifically benefited from it. If he started showing mercy now, he would be breaking generations of tradition.

Or he could choose a different way.

Perhaps no human being should hold another creature’s life in their hands. But if one were to do it, the girl before him was capable of the task. Maximus handed the glass gently back to Daphne.

“Your hands are the only ones I trust a life in.”

Daphne smiled. “Careful, Max,” she whispered. “One day they might hold yours.”

He could only hope.

Maximus watched as she carried the glass to the window, opened it, and let the spider crawl away. Maximus turned back to the bar cart.

He was halfway through pouring her a white wine when he heard: “What happened to you?”

Maximus glanced over his shoulder. Daphne was staring at him with her brow furrowed.