Page 67 of Between Two Kings

Adelaide leaned in. “Caspenon would have you think he was the only one upset by our match, but I was not thrilled either.”

“He never mentioned how you felt.” As soon as the words came out, Tem realized how they sounded. “Sorry—” she stammered. “I just meant that—”

“I am not offended, Temperance.” Adelaide’s tone was kind. “I know what you meant. And I am not surprised he did not mention it. I doubt he wanted to mention me at all.”

Given the way Tem had reacted to their engagement, she could hardly blame him. It seemed silly now, to have been so jealous of their union. Perhaps her basilisk side understood it on some level—perhaps she was adjusting to their customs.

“I slept with Apollo to be vindictive. But also because I wanted to. And if you were to do the same, no one would blame you.”

That wasn’t true—Tem would blame herself.

Adelaide seemed to know what she was thinking. “It is different for basilisks, Temperance. To be with both brothers…it is expected. Apollo has first rights to you. That is no small thing. He will expect to exercise them. Caspenon may expect it eventually too.”

Tem continued to look at her feet. The thought of sleeping with Apollo was tantalizing; the fact that she was expected to do so was baffling. It was difficult for her human side to comprehend such a thing. She had been raised to view marriages as strictly monogamous. Sleeping with your husband’s brother was considered cheating, point-blank, period.

“They are quite similar,” Adelaide said presently.

“Who?”

“Apollo and Caspenon.”

Tem scoffed. They were nothing alike. “How so?”

Adelaide paused, gathering her thoughts. “Caspenon is passionate,” she said slowly. “He feels things deeply. Apollo is the same way.”

Tem snorted. Apollo didn’t feel anything deeply. He was as shallow as a puddle.

“You may not believe it,” Adelaide said. “But it is true. Apollo is merely better at concealing it.”

Tem couldn’t wrap her mind around such a concept. All she could see was the differences between them: the way Caspen protected her, the way Apollo chided her. One brother cared; the other did not.

“Caspen is better than Apollo,” Tem said firmly.

Adelaide tilted her elegant head thoughtfully. “In what way?”

“He wants what’s best for me.”

“And you think Apollo does not?”

Tem looked up at her. “I know he doesn’t. He’s constantly trying to corrupt me.”

Adelaide let out a laugh. “You give him too much credit, Temperance. You are not easily corrupted.”

It felt like a compliment, so Tem took it as one. “I can’t let him win,” she admitted.

“Then you need only deprive him.” Adelaide smiled conspiratorially. “He wishes to sleep with you. That much is obvious. If you withhold yourself from him, he will never stop pursuing you.”

Tem considered this. Did she want him to pursue her? Leo wasn’t pursuing her, and Caspen already had her. Why shouldn’t she indulge in the very thing that basilisks were known for indulging in? It would be a lie to say that she didn’t like it when Apollo flirted with her. It turned her on her axis, as if she were a planet and he were a new gravitational pull. Perhaps that was exactly what she needed: lightness, levity, flirtation. Caspen would be proud that she was assimilating so well into basilisk culture. He might even encourage it. He had encouraged it.

“And you are wrong,” Adelaide continued.

“About what?”

“About Apollo’s intentions. He does want what is best for you. We all do.”

With that, Adelaide stood and walked away.

Tem started after her in bewilderment. It was an uncharacteristically straightforward thing for a basilisk to say. We all do. But who, exactly, was “we”? Caspen and Apollo? Or had Adelaide meant it in a broader sense, implying that all basilisks wanted what was best for her? It had never seemed that way to Tem. It had always felt as if basilisks wanted something from her.