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For a second, I don’t know which arrow Daisy’s talking about. I’ve shot hundreds of arrows over the course of my life. I spend more time than my family can possibly know notching, shooting, and retrieving arrows.
And then I realize that Daisy hasn’t seen me shoot most of those arrows. She’s seen me shoot toy arrows with a toy bow because we both used to have them growing up, so Daisy’s a decent shot.
“You mean…”
“The one at Christmas. When you first saw him,” she says. “Since then?”
“Yeah.”
A tiny frown. “But something’s going wrong. It has to be, if Apollo looked like that at the party.”
“I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t—” Our break is going to be up soon. This isn’t the ideal place to lay out all the details. I probably shouldn’t do it without talking to Apollo first. “He was upset about a meeting that happened at work with the same Senator who was talking to me at the party. And he wasn’t feeling well.”
Daisy’s eyes get enormous. “He wanted to protect you from the Senator?”
The hairs on my arms stand up. Daisy’s eyes follow the goosebumps.
“Uh oh,” she says. “He wanted to protect you from more than the Senator?”
“I think so. And I think he’s worried about…” I am not going to call this a curse. Where did Daisy even get that idea? “About the episodes.”
She purses her lips. “That’s kind of romantic.”
“It will be. Until we break up.”
Daisy scoffs. “Why would you break up when you’re totally in love with each other?”
I stare at her, and stare at her, and stare at her.
She stares back.
“What?” she says, after a long silence. “Was I supposed to pretend it wasn’t obvious?”
Daisy teases me relentlessly through the rest of the photo shoot. Other people might not appreciate being teased about what they thought, rightfully, was a secret crush on her adoptive brother, but it eases the pressure in my chest. It reminds me that this isn’t the first time we’ve faced life-or-death stakes before. The fact that Daisy and Hercules made it out is a good omen.
It has to be a good omen.
August calls for two more breaks. He’s a talented photographer, but he’s especially good at photographing our family, which means he’s especially good at photographing Daisy and her dad. I don’t know how August can tell when Daisy wants to get away from the window, because she and her dad have always gone to great lengths to hide that kind of thing from other people.
During the last break, when Daisy’s in the bathroom with a team of assistants to keep her gown intact, I finally ask him what the tell is.
August’s eyebrows go up. He laughs in a soft, near-silent huff. He’s been with us for so long that I know this amusement is out of an almost familial affection. His hands come up in front of him, prepared to sign.
“It’s…” Julien says, while August signs. “It’s like this.”
August doesn’t close his eyes. He looks pointedly into mine, then ever so slightly to the left and ever so slightly down. It’s so subtle and so Daisy that my mouth drops open.
“I thought she was just thinking!”
August shakes his head, hands moving again.
“Her father does the same thing,” Julien translates. August’s hands are up at his face, rotating to indicate tilting his head. “Many people, when they’re thinking, or trying to remember, look up.” He flicks his eyes up and to the right. “When Daisy and her father are trying to remember, they look down. And when they want a break but don’t want to say so—” August demonstrates again, then drops his hands with a smile.
“You’re good at your job,” I tell him.
“He knows,” Julien says.
We all laugh.
