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Be cool, I tell myself. act normal.
Focus on helping Apollo… not his sculpted chest or abs.
Styx help me.
Awkwardly, I rise. Standing, I walk around the table. Trying my hardest to keep as neutral of a face as I'm capable of.
Apollo pushes away from the table. Legs spread apart, back straight. Standing in front of him, I look down at his face.
Breathe, I remind myself.
But I keep thinking of that evening at his lodge.
We lock eyes and the air escapes my lungs. Slipping his arms rather stiffly out his toga, I watch as the fabric drops to his waist. Fabric drapes loosely around his hips.
Gaia, help me.
“What seems to be the problem,” my voice croaks. Other than the obvious fact that you're turning to stone.
Taking my hands, he pulls me closer so that I’m standing in between his legs. His thighs pressing softly against me.
“My chest, I can’t bend or move it,” his voice is full of pain as he murmurs.
I shiver as my fingers trace the marbled skin. Now it’s almost fully encompassing his chest, “Why is it spreading so quickly?”
“Because the malaka needs to stop using magic,” the irate Artemis snarks. I turn to watch Apollo’s twin who is currently glaring at her brother with a grin as icy as the marble. With her look as cross as her arms, she adds, “It only makes the plague spread faster.”
My red haired companion nods emphatically at the Moon Goddess from over the shoulder of Apollo. Ari laughs, “Exactly, if he wasn’t so proud and actually listened, he’d not be in this situation now.”
“Artemis!” Athena warns gravely, Jumping into the conversation, she grips her spear. “Do not call the Lord of Caelum a name as lowly as that one.” Standing tall, the Goddess of Strategic War looks menacingly down onto the Moon Goddess.
My eyes darted to Apollo who stared at the two amused before turning to a servant. “Fetch Lady Pandy and I some nuts and dried fruit for this fight,” he orders jovially.
The servant starts to run for the kitchen as I state, “He’s kidding. I don’t need any snacks.” Giving him a pointed look, I roll my eyes.
The servant eyed Apollo skeptically. Wordlessly asking for orders. Shaking my head, I laugh softly.
“What?” he questions me.
“You and your propensity for violence,” groaning, I pull my eyes off of the god, back to the two feuding goddesses.
“Violence? No, not me. This is entertainment,” he cackles. Murmuring a thank you to the servant who provided the requested snack. Pushing the bowl toward me, he offers for me to take some.
Putting up my hand, I say, “Pass. Thank you.”
“Athena, I didn’t know you received a promotion. Congrats on your new role as a malaka ass kisser.” With a snap, Artemis conjures a brown square of fabric, handing it to her half sibling, “Here, for your nose.”
Athena’s face grows red in fury. Narrowing her eyes, the goddess warns, “Watch your words.” Her tone raises the hair on the back of my neck.
Apollo pounds his fists on the table, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” The metal plates and goblets clatter with each strike.
“You're a child.” I roll my eyes. “Break up their fight.”
He ignores me. Gold eyes watching the spectacle before him. “I’m not an idiot,” Apollo states bluntly. “Through my years in this palace, I’ve learned that gods don’t step between feuding goddesses… unless they wish their balls to be chopped off or something equally horrifying.”
Yeah,” I reply as I scrunch my nose playfully at him. “I like the twig and berries intact.”
“Twig?! Berries?!” he demands indignantly. “More of a branch and pomegranates!”
