Page 57 of Split or Swallow

Before she had a chance to process the interaction, someone else grabbed her. The next few minutes passed in a whirlwind as Tem met person after person, shaking hand after hand. She tried to memorize their names and ranks while keeping everyone’s lineage straight but eventually they blended together. It was like meeting an assortment of sunflowers—all equally beautiful, all with nothing of substance to offer. At some point, Leo was pulled away by the Lord Chamberlain and Tem found herself in a corner alone. She took the opportunity to survey the crowd.

Leo’s family was extensive, and tall, and…royal. They carried themselves with unmistakeable grace, so unlike the hunched weariness of the people in the village. Everyone in this room was a stranger to manual labor—their palms were smooth; their fingers dripped with gold. Tem touched the tiny golden claw around her neck. She still wasn’t used to wearing something so valuable. She wondered what it had cost Caspen to acquire it. A voice suddenly shattered her thoughts:

“Temperance.”

It was the king.

Tem shifted uncomfortably, distinctly aware of his disparaging gaze.

“Your Highness,” she gave an awkward curtsy. It was difficult to move in the dress without exposing an unceremonious amount of thigh.

“Thelonius has taken a liking to you.”

I wish he hadn’t, Tem thought violently. Out loud, she said:

“It appears that way.”

“Are his feelings reciprocated?”

She fought the urge to make a face.

“That’s really none of your business,” she muttered.

Maximus leaned in. He had the same gold incisors as Leo.

“Who my son loves is invariably my business.”

“Loves?”

“He can’t take his eyes off of you.”

“Maybe he needs his eyes checked,” Tem said tartly.

“Do not make light of this. Even now, he watches.”

Tem scanned the parlor for Leo. He was leaning against the fireplace, whiskey in hand, staring at her with a slight smile on his lips. When their eyes met, he raised his glass in her direction.

Maximus’s fingers wrapped around Tem’s arm, digging painfully into her skin.

“Everyone has their place, Temperance. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean,” his fingers tightened. “There is a natural order to things. A hierarchy, if you will.”

Tem scrunched her nose. She didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“We must honor that hierarchy,” the king continued. “Otherwise, things may become…unbalanced.”

“Unbalanced?”

“Yes. Unbalanced.”

He was still holding her arm.

“Take the basilisks, for example. They provide a service. Their place is beneath us.”

Tem hated the way he was speaking to her—as if he were explaining a simple concept to a small child.