Page 235 of Between Two Kings

A moment later, she was in his arms.

For a long while, all they did was hold each other. Time passed. They breathed.

Eventually, Tem whispered, “I’m sorry, Caspen.”

He held her closer.

“When will you understand that you have nothing to be sorry for?” His hands were tracing her spine. “It is me who is sorry. I have always known exactly who you are, Tem. I have always known that you cannot be tamed.”

Tem just shook her head.

“It has never been easy with you,” Caspen continued quietly. “Most likely it never will be. But I do not need easy. I do not want easy.” He tilted her head up to his, whispering the rest against her lips. “I just want you.” Then he kissed her.

In his kiss, Tem found mercy. His body pressed against her, skin against skin, as solid as the mountain itself. Caspen was gentle with her—so much more gentle than usual—as soft as silk with his touch. In that moment, the only thing she knew was him.

Tem was so swept away in their kiss that she barely heard the dull swell of noise penetrating the back of her skull. She opened her mind, tuning into the collective consciousness of every basilisk under the mountain. It was utter chaos, dozens of voices, all talking over one another, all in a state of sheer panic.

How did it get in here?

We have precautions in place. It should be impossible to—

If there is one, that means there could be more—

How can we get it out?

We must leave, otherwise—

There must be a way to kill it—

Something was wrong, that much was very clear. But Tem couldn’t tell what it was, couldn’t understand what had happened. The mass panic was pressing against her skull, threatening to crush her. Finally, she heard it. One word, over and over:

Weasel.

Chapter Forty

“Caspen,” Tem said out loud. “Listen.”

He listened, his brow furrowed. Then his eyes widened.

Basilisks had many weaknesses. Mirrors. The crow of a rooster. The smell of a weasel. There was one here, now, in the passageways. And it was killing her people.

“Who would do this?” Caspen whispered. “Who would—”

But Tem already knew.

She remembered Vera’s words perfectly: Your husband should watch his back. This was retaliation, revenge for Jonathan and Christopher. The villagers could not reach the royals, so now they’d come for the basilisks, staking their claim in this civil war.

A scream pierced the air.

Immediately, Caspen turned for the door.

“Wait,” Tem cried. “You can’t go out there. I’m going out there.”

“You are not going anywhere.”

“I have to help, Caspen. I’m the only one who can—”

Another scream.