Page 9 of Split or Swallow

“Kora willing, you won’t. But knowing you, you’ll find a way.”

Tem sighed. She wasn’t exactly wrong.

“You must remember to be polite,” her mother continued. “And to defer to him completely. You are the student, and he is the teacher. This is not the time for your headstrong nonsense. You will do as he says, and try to learn something.”

Tem nodded, although her stomach had turned into a tangled mess. She was no good at following instructions—she never had been. Why would she be good at this most important, fundamental thing?

“I’m hopeless, mother,” she whispered, her eyes on the ground.

“No, my dear,” her mother said kindly, placing her palms on Tem’s shoulders. “No girl is hopeless.”

Her words were of no comfort to Tem. She craved specificity from her mother—she wanted to hear that she, herself, wasn’t hopeless. But that was not what she expected, and it was not what her mother provided. There would be no specificity; there would be no coddling for Tem, tonight or any night. There was only the task at hand, and her willingness to complete it.

“It is nearly time,” her mother said. “Come.”

Tem nodded, following her mother out the front door and along the cobblestone path to the street. She could see Vera ahead of her, following her own moth⁠er out of their cottage. By the time they reached the edge of the trees, Tem was last in the line of fourteen girls and their mothers.

They walked as if in a trance, nobody speaking as they followed the long dirt path into the woods. It was a chilly night—one of the first nights of autumn. Tem tried to calm herself down but it was no use. Her thighs were oily and her head was light; she felt as if she might be sick. She was seriously considering turning around and sprinting home when suddenly the wall loomed in front of them.

Tem had never been beyond it. She knew there were doors at various points along it, but had never gone through one. They weren’t even locked—locks were unnecessary when the mirrored exterior was protection enough. But the thought of running into a basilisk in its true form—and risk being turned to stone by its deadly gaze—was plenty of motivation to stay within the wall.

Tem said a silent prayer to Kora as they passed through the door.

As soon as they were outside the wall, Tem saw that they were at the base of the mountain. The line of girls stopped before a long row of caves, each entrance a gaping mouth in the moonlight. For a long moment, nothing happened. And then, through the haze of the evening gloom, a figure emerged from the shadows.

Tem’s heart caught in her throat. She was too far away to see it clearly, but close enough to know that it was wearing its human form, as expected. That was part of the deal: none of the girls vying for the prince’s hand would die in the caves. It would violate the truce. Of course, Tem found it hard to trust an agreement that was made hundreds of years ago. But she had no choice.

Beside her, Tem’s mother grasped her wrist.

“Be brave, child.”

Tem didn’t have to turn around to know she was gone. All the other mothers were leaving too, kissing and embracing their daughters before disappearing back down the path until only the girls were left standing alone in the cold.

Nobody said a word.

Tem realized that despite being told about the training nearly every day for the better part of her life, she had no idea what actually happened next. How would she know which basilisk she would be paired with? Would she be the one to choose, or would they?

Before she could ask the girl next to her, the basilisk stepped forward.

“You have come here to learn,” he said, his voice echoing against the rocks. “At the end the training, the prince will select one of you as his wife.”

Silence.

It wasn’t exactly new information. Still, it was jarring to hear it now, moments before it was about to begin.

“It is our job to prepare you for that honor,” his eyes flicked over them, and Tem flinched when they landed on her. “Proceed to your caves.”

Nobody moved.

How were they supposed to know which cave was theirs? They awaited further instruction, but the basilisk didn’t speak again. To Tem’s satisfaction, even Vera looked nervous.

Suddenly, the girl in front of her gave a short, garbled scream before turning and running back toward the wall. She disappeared through the door a moment later.

One down, thirteen to go.

Somehow, the deserter gave Tem strength. She was no coward; she would not run. She had come here to make her mother proud, and more importantly, to make herself proud. She may not care about the prince, but she did care about a life beyond the chicken coop. She owed it to herself to find it.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Tem stepped forward.