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When the applause has died down, Senator Walsh nods at Apollo and steps back.
“Congratulations,” he says. “I didn’t see the ring before, but I can’t say I’m sorry for talking to a beautiful woman.”
Daisy laughs. The sharp-edged sound sends a chill down my spine. “Try not to make the same mistake twice.”
The Senator laughs, though she was clearly not joking, and disappears into the crowd.
6
APOLLO
No one stops talking once I’ve told the party about our engagement. They get louder and closer, and I paste a smile on my face and watch while party guest after party guest coos over Artemis’s ring—which is not, of course, Artemis’s ring at all, it’s Daisy’s engagement ring, a fact that seems to slip past everyone who looks at the black diamond on Artemis’s finger and exclaims that it’s just the thing.
It is not just the thing. A black diamond is just the thing for Daisy. You wouldn’t know that by how Artemis shows it off as if I really did buy her a ring and ask her to marry me instead of bypassing the part of the relationship where you fall in love and admit it to each other and slyly hint that you might want to bring vows into the mix and eventually one of you—that would be me, in this imaginary scenario—gets down on one knee somewhere special to the two of you and stumbles through an even more significant confession while the other person’s eyes fill with tears and says yes, yes, of course I’ll marry you, it’s what I’ve always wanted and you frolic off into the sunset without the black hole of shame that’s eaten you from the inside for as long as you can remember.
Hypothetically.
Theoretically.
Couldn’t be me.
The party presses in. Three older women in glittering gowns surround Artemis. Daisy steps to her side, which keeps her from being closed in. This is helpful for me, since my primary goal at the moment is to keep my pinky wrapped around Artemis’s so we don’t lose contact.
I’m not afraid of losing contact, except for being terrified that if I let go, my brain will turn to scrambled eggs from a fever nobody can put out. I can’t tell if the heat under my collar is from another episode lying in wait or from my body belatedly realizing what I’ve just done.
Everything about is going to be a thousand times more conspicuous now. Artemis and I have been as normal about each other as it’s possible to be. We didn’t want to make a point of not touching each other in the event we’d have to do it in front of our family, so it’s certainly not unheard of for us to stand close, and sit close, and be close.
Now I’ve caused a scene at Calliope and Orion’s aircraft carrier birthday party and I don’t trust my body to stay alive if I let go of her.
I focus on projecting a general glow at the people around us. One that says I’m pleased to have staggered through the crowd like a madman to defend my adoptive sister from the clutches of a Senator who is the rising star of his political party and apparently has presidential ambitions—a classic threat.
Ares and Hercules follow the swell of the crowd over to me and pop up out of it like tuxedoed buoys.
“Congratulations, Apollo.” Ares claps my shoulder like he’s sixty years old. “What the fuck happened?”
“Yeah.” Hercules crosses his arms over his chest and surveys me, his abundant tattoos peeking over the edge of his collar. His obvious superhuman strength only adds to the daytime-accented tuxedo, and the curly golden hair pulled away from his face makes him look like he stepped out of a sunny vacation in Mykonos. “Something you want to tell us?”
“Something you want to tell us?” I ask Ares. “Are you the only one who abandoned the theme?”
Ares gestures to his red pocket square. “I’m sure you’ve heard of Mars, Apollo.”
“The rest of us came in pairs.”
“Castor and Pollux are here as Castor and Pollux. That hardly counts.”
“It’s celestial,” Hercules puts in.
“Mars is a celestial body,” Ares answers. “And?—”
“He did come with a pair,” says Hercules.
Ares blanches. No, he didn’t. Our lives aren’t as on top of each other as they once were, but he’d have told me if he was bringing a date to Calliope and Orion’s gala. He’d have had to if he wanted to avoid the kind of spotlight I’m currently standing in with Artemis.
“Why aren’t you with him?” Hercules continues, giving Ares a pointed glance. “Those details could not have been accidental.”
“What details?” I ask, since Ares looks like he’s seen a ghost and Hercules hasn’t caught on yet. He’s on tiptoe, searching the crowd for a man who’s apparently here with Ares.
Hercules huffs. “The rovers.”
