Page 18 of A Veil of Gods and Kings

“Well, that has ended. My father forces me to turn into a bastard deity even before I’ve ascended.”

Temi’s expression dropped. She raised her chin and placed a palm along my jaw. The injured one, just at the point the bruise fell under the veil. I winced at the memory. Temi smoothed her hand out. “You get to define who you are, Apollo. Not anyone else. And certainly not your damn, heartless father. Look at me.” She stepped in closer. “I said look at me.” I lifted my face. “You think that person who runs around secretly helping others out is a person who is going to ascend and become like Zeus?”

“You don’t understand. Everyone's the same. Even those deities who don’t wish to cow to Zeus in the end.”

“You aren’t everyone, Apollo.” I studied her for a long moment, and she patted my cheek. “Now, when do we leave?”

5

Hyacinth

Epiphany’s gaze trailed to the windows, her ebony curls tossing back over her shoulders, the soft curves of her cheeks gleaming in afternoon light. Her friends in their pastel dresses that swirled through their ankles, revealing delicate sandals and painted toes, all laughed around her. They tangled together, a mass of arms and giggles, on a couch. The curtains behind tumbled in a breeze, and their perfumes floated on it. The gardens outside burst with as many colors as the girls.

“Forgive me for interrupting, but may I speak with my sister alone, please?”

Epiphany shifted back towards me. “Could we discuss it at dinner?”

I raised my eyebrows. The girls cleared their throats, sitting up, smoothing out dresses. Epiphany sighed. “Please excuse us.”

The group rose like a unit, bowing to me, and mumbling, “Your Highness.”

I waited until the murmurs of their voices faded and turned back to Epiphany. “Walk with me in the gardens?”

“It’s midday and hot.”

I scoffed. “Hardly. Come on.”

She groaned again, but eased up off her couch and looped her arm into mine as we stepped outside. The sun shimmered behind ivory clouds, kissing all the blooming flowers, the Hellebore glowing like butter, Bluebells draping against the grasses, Lisianthus swept up in its royal colors, raising their heads towards the sky like nobles.

“Well?” Epiphany swung her face towards me. “What is it?”

“Is that anyway to address me, Pip?”

She dipped down, plucking a bunch of Forsythia and clutching it in her hand by her side. “If you can still call me Pip, I can still talk to you like a brother.” I rolled my eyes as she snatched bunches of Crocuses and tucked them in with the others, their soft-lilac color flowing through the yellows. “So… talk.”

“Why aren’t you with your instructor this morning?”

Epiphany groaned. “Did you bring me out to the gardens to lecture me?”

I chuckled. “No, I like the gardens far too much for that. But, imagine my surprise when I walked into the library, searching for my sister who I knew would be devotedly studying ancient languages, only for her instructor to tell me that said devoted sister had to cancel because she felt unwell.” I paused for a moment. “I knew I should come straight away to look after your health.”

“Cyn,” Epiphany whined, “language is the most boring subject on earth. And it’s too pretty of a day for it.”

“You said it was too hot.”

She ripped a Delphinium off a bush and thrusted it at me. I clicked my tongue. “I’m wearing one of my good robes. Be mindful.”

“Jupiter forbid some flower petals should stain that robe.”

Her casual use of Jupiter’s name caused my heart to jump, and I cleared my throat. “Epiphany, there is something I actually needed to discuss with you.”

“Other than me neglecting my education?”

I drew in a breath and gestured to a bench. “Yes.”

She sat beside me, dropping her bouquet onto the blush pink of her dress, her wrist draped with sparkling bracelets. Something about that image was so beautiful I wished to write it out, find some way to mold words, so they described the delicate way her gown drifted in the breeze, the petals flittering like fairy wings, all their pastels sweeping together. But I was a prince, not a poet.

“We have a visitor coming.”