Page 112 of A Veil of Gods and Kings

“No.” I drew in closer to him, curled my fingers around his neck.

He grasped my hand gently, pulling me away. “You should be,” he said before turning. It was like leaves tumbling from a tree in autumn, and as much as I may snag them, to keep the season at bay, it already shifted. And there was nothing I could do to stall it.

“Apollo, please,” I whispered, not even sure what I was asking.

He considered me for a moment, his features so god-like for three heartbeats it startled me. One day when they made busts of him, that’s what they’d look like. All curled hair and draping fabric, his expression cut hard like stone, his eyes smooth and depthless.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get work done.”

Words caught in my throat. I felt like a fool trying to capture a star. As if such a thing were possible. A child’s dream.

And that draped over me the whole of the day, seeping into every heavy, tucked away spot of my soul. By the time we arranged around the throne room, waiting for Father, I struggled to keep my shoulders back and my chin up. Apollo stood with Temi. He’d pulled his veil away, his radiance sparkling alongside the decorations that shadowed him.

“His Royal Highness, King Magnes,” an attendant said, his voice echoing off the high ceilings.

Father walked in, the crown over his dark, gray-streaked hair glimmering. He grinned, wrinkles sweeping up around his eyes as he strode down the walkway towards us. His gaze caught on Apollo, his expression faltering before he bowed. “Lord Apollo. I wasn’t aware we had the honor.”

Apollo returned the gesture, his voice coming warm and formal and foreign. “Please don’t, Your Highness. Your son has been a gracious host to my sister and myself in our visit here. He asked me to stand in to welcome you home. But we will retire until dinner and allow you to have some time as a family.”

Father inclined his head, and Apollo tucked his sister’s arm into the crook of his elbow and walked out of the room. I swallowed as his form disappeared through the door. Father hugged Emrin and Epiphany, holding them each for a long stretch. “How good it is to see my children in the flesh again. I’ve prayed for your well being every hour.”

He grazed his fingers over Epiphany’s hair and then nodded. “Would you both give your brother and myself a moment?”

Epiphany squeezed her arms around his neck once more, and he chuckled, kissing her cheek. A few moments later, they left, and we stood alone. Father gripped my arm. “How are things, son?”

“It’s so good to have you home.” I took a deep breath. “All is well. The advisors have stirred up some trouble though nothing unmanageable. Joden, in particular, has been a pain in the ass.” Father’s lips pinched, and I continued. “We’ve had guests, as you’ve seen. But all has been fine. And there is a Lord Galeson here from the kingdom of Segion as well. But the ledgers are up to date, and I have no major disasters to report.”

Father nodded but then reached out, cupping my cheek in his palm. “That’s very well, son. But that isn’t what I meant.” He sighed. “I didn’t know a god”—his voice lowered—“a child of Zeus’ at that, would come while I was away. I would never have left so much on you. What I mean is, how are you, son?”

My shoulders dropped.

I hadn’t considered that. It had been a lot.

I took a shaky breath, and Father drew me into his arms. I tucked up against him as I had as an adolescent and let his heartbeat thunder against my cheek.

“You’ve done well, Cyn.” His voice rumbled into me. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, Father.”

A few moments later, he pulled back and gestured to the door. “Let’s meet the others for dinner, and you can tell me about these visitors on the walk.”

Once we had all found seats in the dining room, attendants walking around and serving foods from dozens of different platters, Father turned to Apollo. “My son tells me, Lord Apollo, that Zeus sent you here with the intention of you two working together. He does our family great credit with his consideration.”

Apollo finished a swallow of his wine and nodded. “I fear, Your Highness, that your son has undersold the situation.” He met my gaze, a mischievousness in his expression, a lightness I hadn’t seen since Ares’ visit resting there. “My father sent me here with the intent of Hyacinth mentoring me. In fact, he told me that Hyacinth was, in his mind, everything he might hope for a young man to be. I have to say, after spending a summer with the hospitality of your home, and getting to know your children, I understand why he would think that now.”

His gaze lingered on me, and feelings swept up through me like snow flurries on a winter wind. Father’s eyes darted between the two of us, and I cleared my throat. “Apollo overstates my importance. It’s been an honor to host him and his sister.”

Father hesitated for a moment before taking a swallow from his goblet. “I’m very glad to hear it.” He turned back to Apollo. “My children are my greatest treasure, so I relish knowing that those who hold their destinies consider them so highly.”

Apollo winced, and I snapped my face towards Father. He cocked an eyebrow up, and I returned to my dinner. But throughout the meal, I kept finding Apollo looking at me, as though he wished to capture me, box me up, impress my likeness to a painting. As if he wanted a memento.

As the meal ended, he rose, bowed to my father, and left.

“Excuse me,” I said to those remaining at the table, my father’s brow furrowing, and I stood, dashing after him. I had to jog to catch him before he arrived at his room. “Apollo.”

He turned, his veil glimmering as though he struggled to maintain it. “Yes?”

“Please.” The word tumbled out of me, taking the place of everything I didn’t know to say. I reached out and took his hand, pressing a kiss to his wrist. “Stay with me tonight?”