Page 19 of Split or Swallow

“I know. I just…” Tem paused, crossing her arms and taking a deep breath before finishing: “I wanted to hear it again.”

Caspen still didn’t turn.

Instead, an aching pulse shot suddenly between her legs. It passed through her so sharply that she gasped, doubling over in surprise, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it. She had to cry out; the sensation was too strong. She had never felt anything so good—it eclipsed every sensation she had ever given herself—it made her entire insides unfold in a spiral of petals—like she had become one with the moon and the stars.

Tem could barely keep her balance as the pulse intensified, forcing her to her knees. She curled into herself, her fists gripping the grass. She couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t think. She felt nothing but the most profound pleasure of her life. Tem knew in that moment without a shadow of a doubt that she was alive.

Then it was over.

By the time she looked up, Caspen was gone.

CHAPTER THREE

The next morning at breakfast, her mother fixed her eggs, as usual. Tem sliced an apple on the side, and set the honey pot on the table, the way she did every morning. Everything was as it had always been—everything was exactly the same. Except for Tem.

She was forever changed by her time in the cave. She’d laid in bed all night, wide awake, replaying everything that had happened. She remembered what she saw when Caspen dropped his trousers. She remembered what it felt like to touch herself, to see Caspen grow hard at the sight of her, to finish in front of him.

Tem tried to eat, but could not. The moment she raised her spoon, the claw pulsed, and she gasped.

When it pulses, you will know I am thinking of you.

The thought was like dewy grass on a spring morning. She could imagine nothing better than knowing she was on Caspen’s mind. She wished desperately for another pulse—she wanted him to think of her again—to think of her continually until they were reunited that evening.

But another pulse didn’t come.

Tem’s heart sank. Was that all she was worth to him? A single pulse—nothing more? What if it had been an accident, and he hadn’t been thinking of her at all? Shame flushed her cheeks, and she turned back to her plate.

Breakfast passed in silence. Tem knew her mother was dying to ask about her time in the caves, but every time she opened her mouth, Tem shot her a glance that made it clear she didn’t want to talk. She couldn’t possibly tell her what had happened. She’d need to come up with a story that didn’t involve her completely crossing every boundary the training was supposed to have in place.

In the meantime, it was Sunday, which meant the entire village went to church.

As Tem climbed the church steps, she looked at the stone statues of the gods—the ones whose anatomy was so staggeringly inferior to Caspen’s. If these were the gods, then what did that make him?

They were late, and the church was already full. Tem followed her mother to the back row, sliding into the pew after her. When she sat on the hard wooden bench, the claw pressed against her insistently. She was immediately warm between her legs, and wished she was alone. She had to sit delicately, her thighs tensed on the hard wooden bench, her hands gripping her knees.

“Something wrong, my dear?” her mother asked.

Tem shook her head. There were no words for the experience.

“Nothing, mother.”

She looked around the church, trying to locate Gabriel as a way to distract herself. He was sitting at the end of their row, his arm around a boy who was decidedly not Peter. She couldn’t help but smile.

The service began. They prayed to Kora, goddess of fertility. It was Kora’s benevolence that influenced the training, that blessed the girls with fertility, that ensured the prince would bear a male heir. It was in Kora’s name that Tem was to offer her body as an option for the prince. Kora was a mother to all, and it was said she visited new mothers the night before they gave birth to bless them with a safe delivery. Tem wasn’t sure she believed it. There were plenty of women who died in childbirth. The queen herself, for instance. Everyone knew that the prince had grown up without a mother. Had Kora forgotten to visit her?

It was halfway through the service when the first pulse came.

Before Tem had a chance to catch her breath, a second one quickly followed. But this couldn’t be happening right now. Not now, not next to her mother, not in church. Sitting still was impossible. Tem clutched the pew with both hands, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to control her breathing.

Another pulse came, and Tem let out the tiniest whimper.

Do not make a sound.

Tem froze. The voice was Caspen’s, and it had come from inside her mind. But how was that possible? Before she could wonder further, another pulse came, this one so strong that Tem had to grab the pew in front of her to keep from crying out. Her mother looked over with a frown.

“Cramps,” Tem mouthed.

Her mother nodded.