Page 342 of Split or Swallow

“My people,” he cried. “I thank you.”

Dread pricked Tem’s stomach. The ceremony was over.

Bastian entered her mind:

It is time.

Tem froze. His eyes bore into hers as Leo addressed the audience:

“With my rule, I intend to usher our kingdom into a new era of peace,” he said. “The conflict between the humans and the basilisks has gone on far too long.”

A murmur swept through the crowd. Nobody was used to hearing rhetoric in favor of the basilisks. They were considered the enemy—they were not worth the air the royals breathed.

The Serpent King was staring right at her—staring into her soul.

Crest them, Temperance.

But something was distracting her—a movement out of the corner of her eye. Several tall figures were entering the clearing, running along the edges of the maze. Tem squinted. Their smooth strides made it seem like they might be basilisks. But that couldn’t be right. Only the teachers and the king attended the ceremony.

Leo was still talking:

“There have been many cruelties, on both sides. Those cruelties end today.”

“Thelonius,” Maximus grabbed his arm. “Cease this at once.”

Leo ignored him, continuing on even louder:

“It is my belief that we can coexist, learning from one another as we should have done from the beginning.”

The figures were getting closer—encircling the crowd in an impenetrable line.

Now, Temperance.

Was she really about to do this?

A deep, animalistic urge swept through her. The basilisk side of her wanted to perform the crest. She could feel the need thrumming through her body like a pulse. But Tem was made up of two things, and she did not covet power the way Bastian and Maximus did. The desire to dominate wasn’t something she identified with. Such hubris was reserved for kings. It was a useless thing to Tem—a facade of control that could break at any second, as it was breaking now. There had to be anoth⁠er way.

A shadow of an idea formed.

Perhaps Tem didn’t need to crest the royals. It was a temporary solution anyway—an imperfect bandage for a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. Even if she succeeded, Bastian would crest her immediately, and the power she gained from the royals might not be enough to resist him. There was only one source of unlimited power for her—a renewable source. Someone who wouldn’t be hurt by the crest in any way shape or form.

Herself.

Tem was two things: human and basilisk. Her basilisk side was dying, but her human side was not. Why shouldn’t she use one to feed the other? No harm would come to her at her own hand. An elegant solution. Bastian would be so proud.

Tem looked at Caspen, who had always protected her. Caspen, who had always called her perfect, who insisted from day one that she was flawless. Caspen, who had always told her that the traits she considered weaknesses were really her strengths. For a moment, Tem dared to see herself as Caspen did: extraordinary. He’d been right all along.

She could do anything. And she would do this.

TEMPERANCE. NOW.

But Tem had made up her mind.

No.

A curious expression passed over Bastian’s face. He looked almost happy.

So be it.