Page 176 of Split or Swallow

“Yes.”

Another word jumped out at her: Seneca.

Rowe’s quiver.

“What happened to them?”

“They went missing.”

Tem frowned.

“When?”

“After the war.”

“After the war?”

“Yes.”

Tem processed this information. It didn’t make sense. The war was over; the royals had defeated the basilisks and brokered the truce, and there had been no battles since. She couldn’t imagine why basilisks would go missing.

“Where have they gone?”

As soon as she asked it, she found she already knew the answer.

Help me.

The voice she’d heard—the disembodied plea that plagued her every time she went to the castle—it had to be a basilisk. Caspen’s answer confirmed what she already knew:

“The castle.”

Tem felt a chill go down her spine.

“The royals would have you believe that all has been quiet since the war,” Caspen continued, his voice low and urgent. “But that is not the case. My people have gone missing for centuries.”

“But why?” Tem stuttered. “Why would the royals keep basilisks in the castle?”

“To use us.”

“For what?”

Now Caspen hesitated. He turned to her, his jaw tense.

“Tem,” he said quietly. “I must ask you something. And you must answer with complete honesty.”

Tem blinked. He was so deeply serious—so obviously concerned—that she had no idea how to react to his tone. She said the only thing she could think to say:

“Ask me.”

Still, Caspen hesitated. He touched her waist, drawing his fingertips slowly down her body.

“Are you loyal to him?”

Tem understood he was asking about the human prince. There was no doubt that Leo held a piece of her heart. But so did Caspen. He always would.

“I am loyal to you.”

Not a yes or a no. Simply a statement of fact. It was the best Tem could give him, and Caspen seemed resigned to her answer. His hand gripped her tightly, his fingers digging into her hips as he said: