Page 13 of A Veil of Gods and Kings

“Shit.” Emrin stood, stretching over me, his face tilted towards the letter. “Well, what does it say?”

I slipped my finger under the seal and unfolded the paper, scanning over its contents. “Damn it.”

“What is it?”

“He intends to send one of his sons here.”

Emrin’s features brightened. “Ares?”

I blew out a breath. “No. Apollo.”

“Oh.” Emrin shrugged, easing back by the pool, splashing his hand into the water. “That’s not such a big deal. At least we know he isn’t threatening war.”

I dropped the letter into my lap. “It’s a huge deal. We’re going to have one of Zeus’ children here in the palace with everything that’s going on.”

Emrin lifted his eyes to meet my gaze, and his jaw tensed.

I sighed. “I’ll handle it.”

“You’ll keep him from coming?”

I shook my head. “No way to do that without arousing suspicion. I’ll just have to be the immaculate host while he’s here and hope he leaves sooner than later.”

I trailed my thumb over the letter again.

Apollo. It had been five years since I last saw him.

How might someone describe him?

Clever, gregarious, and attractive. And damn aware of it.

Obnoxious and rude without apology for it.

A favored son of Zeus.

I clenched my teeth. Great.

That’s exactly what I needed, some impertinent asshole in the middle of everything else I had going on.

I crumpled the parchment in my fist.

An hour later, Emrin and I ambled together down a hallway in the palace, attendants bowing to us. Emrin’s steps bounced on his heels, his gaze darting towards the gardens out the window, the fluttering leaves, the splash of colors, and golden sunshine. He frowned and turned back towards me. “There’s another issue.”

I paused two heartbeats. “What is it?”

“Our sister has skipped her lessons again this morning.”

I groaned. “Is Epiphany trying to make my life miserable?”

Emrin raised an eyebrow and shifted back towards the window. “Perhaps she’s attempting to make her own life less miserable.”

I scratched my forehead as we approached the gem-encrusted doors. “I’ll speak with her.” Emrin nodded, and we stepped into the room. The dozen royal advisors frowned as I took Father’s chair at the front of the table, but I rolled my shoulders back as Emrin sat to my right. All of them wore richly threaded robes that scarcely disguised the tension in the way they held their postures, the rigidity of their expressions.

“Prince,”—Dune’s dark eyes tightened—“we need to discuss the trade route. If we don’t prioritize it, our coffers could—”

“The king isn’t even away for four days, and you’re already going to pepper his son to make changes.” Eliga scoffed, his navy sash sashaying as he rolled his shoulders back.

Dune’s nose wrinkled. “The king has left the prince in charge and—”