“Lying is nearly impossible for a basilisk. It costs us something to do so.” She stared up at Caspen, who was looking down at her as if he were bracing for impact. “Why are you saying this to me?” she whispered. “Twenty years ago a girl left the training process. She was pregnant by her basilisk.” Tem already knew where this was going. She knew it in her bones. And yet, she whispered: “No.” “Yes,” Caspen insisted. “Yes, Tem.” Tem wanted to block her ears—wanted to do anything but hear the next thing that came out of Caspen’s mouth: “Your mother is the one who left.”
