Page 57 of Between Two Kings

It was unimaginable—such a horrible desecration Tem couldn’t wrap her mind around it. She covered her nose with her sleeve in an attempt to keep the smell out, but nothing could block such a stench. It was then that Tem realized the man was writing something. Two words, smeared across the smooth, white marble of the church steps for everyone to see:

Feed us.

Tem stared at the dark brown letters. It was a desperate plea, a clear symbol of how the villagers felt about the food shortages, not to mention the murders of Jonathan and Christopher. They would never forgive such an act of violence, especially not when it had broken the truce. Nor should they. Caspen had gone unpunished. And since he was not available to reprimand, they would choose the next person in power: Leo. The villagers didn’t know that Leo’s kindness was the reason they were starving. They didn’t know he tried to do the right thing, that his choices were born from a desire to do what was best for Tem’s people as well as his. All they knew was that their king was lenient in a way that previous kings hadn’t been. All they knew was that the food on their tables had become scarce, that their clothing was fitting looser. They attributed such detriments to the royals, to the snakes, to Leo. But really, they were Tem’s fault. She was at the center of it all; she had called for the bloodletting to cease. She had begged Leo to choose.

Tem understood their anger. But to put it on the steps of the church was unfathomable—she had never seen such a horrible display of disrespect. And yet, they had every right to do so. The royals were supposed to protect their subjects. They were not supposed to sequester themselves in their castle while everyone else starved.

No sooner was the man finished than the crowd dispersed. The villagers sprinted in every direction, scattering down side streets before the guards could decide who to run after.

Gabriel’s beautiful golden hair was suddenly before her. His lip was cut.

“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the nearest alleyway. They ran together all the way to the edge of the village, only stopping once they’d nearly reached the wall.

“Gabriel,” Tem panted, nearly doubling over as she caught her breath. “That was—”

“Amazing,” he said.

She looked up at him. Inexplicably, he was smiling. “Dangerous,” she insisted. “That was dangerous, Gabriel. What if someone had gotten hurt?”

“We all knew the risks.”

“You can’t ever do anything like that ever again. You could lose your job. What if one of the guards had recognized you?”

“The guards don’t come inside the castle.”

“Still, you—”

“Tem,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Stop. I came up with a plan, I organized everyone, and the plan worked. I did that.”

Tem stared up at him in disbelief. His eyes were bright, his face lit up. Clearly this made him feel alive. Somehow, despite herself, Tem found she understood the feeling. Gabriel had just discovered that he was good at something. Tem of all people knew how empowering that could feel. She just wished that the thing he was good at wasn’t protesting the royals.

Gabriel pressed his lips to her cheek. “You had better go.”

There was nothing else to say. A moment later, he was gone.

Tem followed the winding path among the trees, her heartbeat finally settling as silence fell. Here in the quiet, she allowed herself to reflect on what she’d just seen. The villagers were furious. It was not ideal. Their ire reflected what Evelyn had said at dinner: It’s unfortunate that our people will be affected by this.

Will be. As if the effects were not already in motion.

Feed us.

Tem couldn’t stop picturing those horrible, streaky words. To write something in such a blasphemous way beneath the eaves of Kora’s home was a sin beyond what Tem could comprehend. For the first time, fear slipped through her. Not so long ago, things were different. Not long ago, it was Maximus who would have reaped the consequences of rebellion. Now those consequences fell to his son.

By the time Tem returned to the caves, she had resolved to talk to Caspen. He was the one who had killed Jonathan and Christopher; he was the one who would have a solution for this. Yet when she reached their chambers, he wasn’t there. A cursory search revealed nothing. He wasn’t in the courtyard, and he wasn’t in the banquet hall. Tem was about to give up looking when she heard a voice behind her.

“All alone tonight, Temperance?”

The voice belonged to Apollo.

Chapter Ten

He was leaning against the wall of the passageway, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. She was struck once again by the similarities between him and Caspen—how they shared the same broad shoulders, the same strong brow. But Apollo’s beauty was harsher than Caspen’s. He resembled his father more than he resembled his brother, and every time Tem looked at him, she couldn’t help but think of Bastian.

“Looking for someone?”

Apollo’s mouth was turned up at the corner. There was no one Tem would be looking for other than her husband. He knew this, and she knew it too.

Still, Tem answered, “Have you seen Caspen tonight?”