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“Thank you both so much,” the healer said, teary-eyed and even more exhausted than when we’d found him, especially now that he knew he could rest. “I truly feared he might never rouse again. Apollo be praised.”
The actual Apollo, still in disguise, rested his hand on the man’s shoulder. “As was said, it was our honest honor to help. But it was you who saved your friend.”
We took our leave, being only travelers after all, just passing through. When we reached an area out of view of anyone from the settlement, Apollo touched my shoulder like he had on Olympus, and the world tumbled like the mountain had as we returned to its heights.
Beside me was the god of the dawn once more, golden, and gleaming. I only realized that I had grown as weepy as the healer when I felt a tear slide down my cheek. Apollo wiped it away, and his touch was warm enough that the moisture instantly evaporated.
“Thank you for showing me that,” I said. “It was a beautiful thing to witness, to partake in. Rather than perform a miracle, you gave him the means, the inspiration to perform one himself.”
Apollo’s smile was more radiant to me than ever. “I am glad you understand. Shall I see you again tomorrow?”
I felt the same stir of disappointment at our impending parting as I had last night. I had never experienced courtship. I was trained to serve, to please and pleasure. In recent years, I had not gone a single day without some lesson or endeavor toward providing and taking physical enjoyment with another.
Aikos had tasted this very god already. It seemed unfair that I was being made to wait, especially after beginning to know Apollo and looking on him with greater awe because of it.
Damn Aikos, you sweet, glorious bastard. You beat me again. I was following a step behind him again. And yet, I knew now that my reward at the end of this if I could only be patient would be, for me at least if not what Aikos would have wanted, a far greater gift than any physical pleasures or even godhood.
Before Apollo could try taking my hand to kiss it in farewell like last time, I took his. I kissed the back of his fingers gently and said, “Yes. Tomorrow.”
Chapter Three
APOLLO
The next day, like the first, I found Dax in the mortal courtyard. This time, although there were others nearby, he sat alone, leaning forward on his bench, writing on a parchment in furious concentration. When he noticed my approach, he rolled the parchment up like a secret to be kept.
“My lord,” he greeted.
“Trying your hand at poetry?” I asked.
“Perhaps.” He tucked the parchment behind him, clearly not ready to share it yet.
I looked forward to when he did. “Would you like to experience one of my other tenets today?” I held out my hand, and he accepted it with no tremble or hesitation today.
“Melitta!” Dax called to a young woman lounging in the grass. “Would you return my parchment to my rooms for me when you get the chance?”
“Certainly,” she said, and then sat up when she saw me and spoke with reverence. “My lord.”
I bowed my head in thanks and led Dax from the courtyard for today’s excursion. We were not going quite as far as yesterday, for there would be no trek to the earth below.
The home of the gods had many different halls, quarters, and open courtyards for our dalliances of choice. The largest of our music halls could host dozens, which was where I took Dax now. I saw the wonder on his face when he realized that, despite there being several groups of revelers, from singers to musicians to those dancing, no sound traveled to where we stood at the entrance.
“Come,” I said, taking his hand again and keeping it this time, cool in mine and holding firm. “You will understand as we walk.”
We went left toward a quartet of string instruments. The music they played could only be heard once we walked close enough to the edge of those gathered to enjoy their song. The entirety of the hall was set up this way, so that performers could be as loud and varied as they pleased and never clash with their neighbors.
Music was one of my domains, so my presence did not draw much attention here, for whether muse, mortal, or otherwise, the frequenters of this hall were used to my presence. We listened for a while, and then I led Dax to the other side to hear a chorus of singers. Then we circled to the next group, where two talented flute players were performing a duet. Another was composed of strings, flutes, and percussion and had the largest gathering of dancers, though merrymakers danced in every corner of this hall.
Lastly, I led Dax to an unoccupied spot with a collection of waiting instruments.
“Tell me, are there any of these you have an inclination toward?” I asked.
“Oh, um… I suppose I am fair enough on the pan flute. Would you like me to play something for you?” He retrieved one and sat on one of the area’s stools.
“If you are not one who succumbs to stage fright,” I teased.
His laugh, as always, was lovely to my ears. “Having been trained to become a courtesan, my lord, that would be unacceptable.” He puckered his plump lips and began to blow. It came as no surprise that his chosen song was the First Delphic Hymn, one written in praise to me. I would have thought it flattery if not for the impishness in his eyes, the proof that he too was teasing.
I summoned my lyre, first of its kind and invented by Hermes. He gifted it to me in exchange for the cattle he’d already stolen from me on the day he was born, the knave. He often stole the lyre back, like a game between us, but either of us could summon it and play it with near equal talent. Naturally, while Hermes had created it, I was the superior musician, something even he would never deny.
