Page 237 of Between Two Kings

She had often wondered how he felt bearing the burden of leadership, and she saw that burden now. His brow was drawn, his chest rising and falling heavily. He did not cry, but he might as well have. Caspen had done so much for her, and all Tem wanted was to do something for him. Slowly, so as not to alarm him, Tem touched her fingers to his chest, drawing on the ability all basilisks had to transfer emotions. She knew it was working the moment overwhelming grief slammed into her like a brick wall. Tem gasped from the sheer heaviness of it. It was as if she were drowning. Caspen looked down at her in surprise, and she knew he hadn’t expected this of her.

The effect on him was immediate. His face softened as the shadow on his brow retreated. Tem knew it wasn’t a permanent solution, as nothing ever was. But for now, she tightened her grip on him, holding him against her, taking as much of his grief as she could.

“Thank you,” Caspen whispered.

“Of course,” Tem whispered. It was the least she could do for him. They fell asleep, Caspen’s head on her chest, her arms wrapped around him.

The invitation came the following day.

Temperance Verus,

You are cordially invited to the nuptials of Thelonius and Evelyn in one week’s time. The happy couple request your presence at the castle for a celebration the night before the wedding. A carriage will be sent for you. The dress code is evening wear.

Tem looked cautiously up at Caspen. In the whirlwind after the weasel attack, she had completely forgotten about Evelyn’s request.

“What does it say?” Caspen asked. He was still on the bed.

“They want us to stay at the castle the night before the wedding.”

He sat up slowly. “And why would they want that?”

“I don’t know. I…think it’s Evelyn’s doing.”

The look on Caspen’s face perfectly matched the way Tem felt.

“We don’t have to go,” she said quickly.

Caspen held up his hand. “Yes we do.”

“But why?”

He didn’t answer.

Tem stared at him. All night, he had been sad. All night, he had grieved. But now anger crept into his voice, and Tem found herself afraid of what it might mean. Why would Caspen be so willing to go to the castle right after such an egregious attack on his people?

“Caspen,” she said cautiously. “It’s their wedding.”

“I am aware of that.”

“We can’t…ruin it.”

It was all she said, but she knew he understood what she meant. Tem didn’t care about the wedding itself. And she certainly didn’t care about Evelyn. But she cared about Leo. Nothing had changed: they were still in the same position they had been before the weasel, and there was still no way to fix it.

“Basilisk royalty always attends the royal weddings.”

“I know, but—”

“You are the queen, Tem,” Caspen said. “You must be there.”

At his tone, she fell silent. It was clear he was done discussing this.

Was Caspen testing her? Daring her to say that she didn’t want to watch Leo get married? It was a cruel test, but she couldn’t blame him for it. The four of them were in lockstep, trapped in a pattern of distrust that was eating them from the inside out. Tem should have known there would be no peace, that these insufferable Sunday-night dinners would eventually lead to this.

They spent the following days in near silence. It wasn’t just them; every basilisk under the mountain was grieving the loss of their brethren. Tem felt their collective sadness on a physical level, as if a weight were crushing her chest. Basilisks did everything together, and grief was no exception. Tem spent most of the time in their chambers, lying next to Caspen, running her hands gently over his skin. She could think of nothing else to soothe him; the loss was too great.

“What do basilisks believe happens when they die?” she asked him one night.

“We believe our souls go to Kora.”