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The kitchen maid’s eyes widened, pointing off to our left. “The Throne Room,” she squeaks. Her voice is soft, meek, and fearful.
Finally, we reach the Throne Room which has four guards standing sentry outside. Some looked familiar but I didn’t know their names. I knew they were a part of Apollo’s personal guard detail. The four turned to each other, trying to figure out what to do with us.
Taking too long for Artemis’s impatience, she ducks under their arms and throws open the doors.
“Wait!” shouts one guard.
Ignoring them, I follow Artemis through the passageway.
“Lord Apollo instructed us not to let a soul inside,” another one added.
Artemis reared around to the two men, “Then step outside otherwise Hades may be calling your name.”
They yelped and exited the Throne Room. Not shutting the door. Instead looking to the throne for orders.
The two thrones are empty. But the dais has one person pacing back and forth. Apollo scrunches his hair, his eyes rimmed in red like he was in near tears.
He looked drunk. His face is flushed as he takes long drags from his ambrosia goblet.
As we cross the entrance, those eyes fall on us. He approaches us in an instant. “Guards, leave us.” Apollo is grim. The guards murmur something that I couldn’t quite hear of the sharp closing of the doors. Approaching, slowly and cautiously, he watches us like he couldn’t believe his eyes. Coming forward, he gives each a strong hug. Taking one of us in each arm. Near sobbing. “I thought you were dead.”
The sweet smell of ambrosia fills the air around us.
Definitely drunk.
“He’s giving Dionysus a run for his money,” quips Ari.
Not helpful.
“Brief me,” the Goddess of the Moon orders. Apollo continues to stare down at me, too caught up to answer his sister.
Looking at me like he was seeing a ghost. Someone fading away into the Underworld. Being held on only by a thread.
Like if he lets go of that tiny thread, then I'll be gone forever.
“Dead?” I ask, “What do you mean? I spent the evening with Artemis, and we went out for brunch this morning.” Fiddling with my gift for him. “Look, we were at the market, and I found this for you.”
Holding out my hand with the velvet pouch, Apollo looks from me to the pouch and back again before extending his soft hands. I set the gift in them and watched as he unwrapped the small item. “This reminded me of the garden when I was tending to the flowers and you were playing the lyre,” I smiled up at him.
The god looks genuinely elated.
Especially compared to when we walked in. Only moments ago, he appeared to be drowning his sorrows in liquor.
Relieved, Apollo closes his eyes and pulls me to him. “I love it,” he whispers as kisses my forehead.
“Excuse me, did you want me to leave? Is anyone going to answer me? What’s going on?” Artemis snarkily states.
Warmth filling up my soul at the touch of his soft lips on me. “I have never been so thankful for you and Artemis breaking my rules.”
“Why were you so worried?” I ask. Giving him a quizzical look, I watch as he replaces his current pin with mine.
He shakes his head and gestures for us to follow him.
“Oh sure, you answer her but nooooo you can’t answer your very own twin,” she rolls her eyes as she sasses her brother. “I see how it is.”
“Artemis, I'm not ignoring you. It was a busy morning. Now come on.” Apollo leads us out a backdoor way. One that I had no clue existed. Much like the servant’s staircase in my room, a pull of a sconce releases a panel.
The door swung wide. Holding up a hand, Apollo palms a hand of flame.
