Page 121 of A Veil of Gods and Kings

Frustration bubbled up in me. “What do you advise that I should do then? Are you going to join Epiphany and tell me I should run after him like a dog chasing a chariot?”

A gentle smile curled up on his lips. “I’ve always appreciated your sister’s passionate spirit. I suppose as a king I should tell you to remain here, stick with your duty, and place the nation before yourself.”

I nodded. That made sense.

“But”—he tossed a paper from his desk back onto the pile—“as your parent, I’ll say this. If your mother had just walked out of here and there was some way I could reach her, the weight of this crown,” he said as he tapped it where it sat on the desk, “could not stop me from going after her.”

“You think I should go after him?”

“I don’t presume to tell you what to do. You’re an adult, and one I respect at that. You’ve always worked hard, always weighed things out, and given fully of yourself for this role. But, what about what you want?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “I believe it does.”

My fingers clenched into the armrest, and I swallowed.

“I’ll tell you another thing,” Father said, rising from the desk and smoothing out his robe.

“What’s that?”

His eyes took on a twinkle. “I happen to know Apollo’s sister spoke with Valerian before they left. Perhaps he’s aware of the direction they went. Now, I have a meeting I must attend.”

I nodded and leaned onto my knees. Father hovered for another minute before inclining his head and stepping out of the room. I remained sitting there as sunlight danced through tree limbs, splashing shadowy patterns across the rug. I weighed out everything he’d said to me, reflected more on the connection Apollo and I had shared. Father was right. Apollo had to feel the same for me in return. He was one of the most guarded people I’d ever met. He didn’t just open up to anyone. I released a breath that seemed to hover in the air for a moment, and then I jumped to my feet, running towards the stables.

44

Apollo

I pulled my sleeping roll out of my knapsack, my fingers sinking into the fabric as I smoothed it over the ground. Temi stoked the fire, flames dancing together as they swam into the sky. The glow reflected over the browns of her eyes, her shoulders hunched in. I swallowed. Hard. My heart hurt so much it flowed into my arms, aching them.

We’d be home soon.

Tomorrow we’d catch a boat, and we’d go back home to…

Nothing.

To a village where I remained a stranger to everyone. To empty relationships and worthless pursuits. To a life I wasn’t even living before our visit.

I clenched my teeth, taking a long breath to stall tears.

Temi lifted her gaze to me. She blinked several times and then reached out and squeezed my arm, some misery of her own surrounding her. That was likely my fault, too. I patted her hand but knew it was little condolence.

My heart ached again, like it would take over my lungs and my limbs and my brain. As if I silently bled out, my soul leaving in each painful beat. This whole thing—falling in love and, by relation, heartbreak—was new… and like many new things, like an infant flower seed bursting forth, it snapped through the soil of me. Perhaps it would rip me apart.

Temi swiveled around. Her fingers slipped inside her jacket, the fire reflecting off the blades she retrieved.

I jumped to attention, grabbing my bow and nocking an arrow.

A lone figure walked toward us, the ebony outline of their form undulating with movement.

“That’s far enough,” Temi said.

The person thrust their hands up. “Forgive me.”

My arms went numb. I lowered the bow, letting it dangle by my side.

Hyacinth.