Page 56 of Between Two Kings

“I want to come.”

Gabriel shook his head. “It’s not safe for you.”

“Then it’s not safe for you either.”

“Just go home, Tem. Please.”

She shook her head. “If you’re going, I’m going. That’s final.”

A tiny smile split Gabriel’s face. “You are rather stubborn tonight, dearest.”

Tem rolled her eyes. “Every night.”

With a sigh, Gabriel hooked his arm through hers. Together, they joined the crowd and filed out onto the street.

Tem had no idea what to expect. Energy was high—the men were whooping and yelling and clapping each other on their shoulders. There were no women that Tem could see, and she wondered if their husbands had forbidden them to come the same way Gabriel had just tried to do to her. Most of the windows around them were dark—it was after dinner, and the children of the village were asleep. As they approached the town square, a chant formed. Three words, over and over:

“Kill the snakes! Kill the snakes! Kill the snakes!”

A horrible chill slipped down Tem’s spine.

It was the same thing the villagers had chanted after the Passing of the Crown. That day had been a tumultuous one; several men had stormed the stage, putting the prince and his family in danger. Tem still remembered the way Gabriel had leapt into action to protect Leo on her behalf. Afterward, Leo had shown up on her doorstep and she’d wiped a drop of blood from his cheek. They’d kissed, and Tem had decided his family’s sins were not his own. But the villagers were not so easily persuaded. And who could blame them?

The chanting grew louder as they rounded the corner to the town square. Gabriel’s arm was tight in Tem’s as they crossed the cobblestone square and reached the church steps. But they didn’t climb them. Instead, Tem saw a dozen soldiers stationed in front of the enormous wooden doors. They were dressed in armor stamped with the royal insignia: a snake dueling with a rooster.

“They’ve been here ever since your wedding,” Gabriel said over the chanting. “Protecting the church.”

“Why?”

“The royals built it.”

Tem stared at the church, at the statues of the gods. It was Kora’s house of worship, and it was supposed to be sacred. It was also the nicest building in the village. Surrounded by thatched huts, its marble walls stood out like a sore thumb. Tem glanced around the crowd, which was far more than a dozen people. The guards were outnumbered.

“Gabriel,” she said. “What are they going to do?”

“Send a message,” he said simply.

Dread pierced her. The men were in a frenzy. Even Gabriel’s lanky frame couldn’t shield her from getting jostled.

“You should get out of here,” he said in her ear.

“What about you?”

“I have to do this.” His words were laced with deeper meaning.

“No.” Tem shook her head. “You don’t.”

“Just stay here, Tem. Please. I need you to be safe.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but Gabriel was already gone. Tem watched his shoulders as he moved through the crowd, corralling the men toward the church.

What happened next was a blur. One moment the crowd was stationary, and the next, they were moving, surging toward the guards. From her standpoint on the sidelines, Tem could see the panic in their eyes as the villagers descended upon them in a merciless wave. If it wasn’t for Gabriel, she would have run away. Instead she watched as he guided the crowd, directing them so they were pushing the guards to the right side of the church. At first, Tem thought they were clearing a path so they could enter. Instead, just one man ascended the steps. He wore black gloves on each hand and held a wooden bucket. When he reached the middle of the steps, he knelt, plunging his hand into the bucket and pulling out what looked like mud.

“Hey!” one of the guards cried, pointing at him. “Stop that at once!”

But the kneeling man ignored him, leaning over the steps to spread the mud onto the marble. Just then, the wind turned, and Tem’s face twisted as a foul smell brushed against her nostrils. It wasn’t mud. She would have recognized that stench anywhere—she’d grown up with it clinging to her clothing, lingering in her hair no matter how much she washed it. She knew exactly what the man was spreading all over the steps of the church.

Chicken shit.