Page 149 of Split or Swallow

Leo didn’t acknowledge the silence. He simply guided Tem back to her place in line, pressing a kiss to her wrist before dropping her hand and turning to the girl beside her. Leo leaned in, his angular face tilting to the side as he said:

“Sorry darling.”

The girl stepped back in horror.

Tem flashed suddenly to her first night at the castle, when Leo had eliminated the girls in the exact same way. Everyone watched in silence as he walked further down the line, stopping in front of a girl with red hair who immediately started crying. She fled the stage before he even had a chance to speak. Leo stood still for a moment, staring at the empty spot before him. Then he turned once more to the crowd.

“Thank you for your vote,” he glanced at Vera, who preened insufferably at the end of the line. “Rest assured your voice has been heard.”

The crowd cheered again. Several mead glasses met their deaths on the cobblestones. Without another word, Leo descended the stage to join his father, whose face was a mask of rage. Tem could only imagine what Maximus was thinking. To watch his son favor the town pariah was surely cause for fury. The king would not take kindly to Leo’s insolence. It would strain their already fragile relationship, and put Tem straight in Maximus’s crossfire—somewhere she had no desire to be. But these were worries for another time.

For now, mercifully, the show was over.

Tem filed off the stage with the other girls before finding her way back to Gabriel. He handed her a glass, which she immediately downed.

“I’d give it an eight,” Gabriel said.

“Excuse me?”

“Your form,” he said. “Eight out of ten.”

“My form?”

“Bit too much tongue for me, but I suppose the prince might be into that. Next time stand on your tiptoes—otherwise he’s a touch too tall for you.”

Tem let out an incredulous laugh as she realized he was rating her kissing. She knew it was just a way to distract her from her poor showing with the crowd. Gabriel always knew how to make everything better. Tem never had a lot in life. But she’d always had him.

They spent the rest of the evening standing at the edge of the crowd, playing a drinking game where they took a sip whenever Vera fluttered her eyelashes at someone. Eventually, Tem’s mother appeared by her side.

“It is getting late, my dear.”

“Of course, mother. See you at home.”

Her mother shook her head.

“I am staying in the village tonight.”

“Oh.”

Tem had forgotten that her mother was tending to the butcher’s young daughter while her parents were out of town. The crowd’s silence loomed once again in Tem’s mind. How had it felt for her mother to witness Tem’s public disgrace? A slick thread of guilt tightened her throat. It was an old wound, split open again.

On a whim, Tem embraced her mother. They rarely touched in such a way: Tem could count on one hand the times they’d held each other for longer than a brief moment. If her mother was surprised, she didn’t show it. She simply tucked her head against Tem’s shoulder and squeezed her back. When they drew apart, Tem said:

“See you tomorrow, mother.”

Her mother gave her a small smile. Then she left.

“In that case,” Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Horseman?”

Tem sighed. They hardly needed to drink any more. But her mother wouldn’t be home, and she couldn’t go see Caspen. What else was she supposed to do with her evening?

“Horseman.”

They stumbled to the bar together. When they reached it, people were already trickling in from the festival. Gabriel pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“First round’s on me.”

Tem didn’t protest.