Page 47 of A Veil of Gods and Kings

He released a breath, ruffling his hand through his hair. “Yes. That’s what someone has to do when they’ve acted like an ass and screwed something up.”

I tapped my finger on the desk. That was true enough but it coming from his lips surprised me. “All right.”

He kicked an ankle over a knee. “I’m sorry—not just for the temple, but for the whole thing.”

“What has caused your change of heart?”

“My sister Temi wishes for me to give a better effort.”

My mouth parted, but I hesitated a moment before speaking. “That’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“It is. For all my flaws, lying doesn’t tend to be one of them.” He quirked his lips up. “Perhaps some mild deception—I do like to disguise my appearance and maybe you might consider that lying of sorts. But if I tell you something, you can know it’s what I honestly think.”

I dropped back against my chair. “Is that an invitation?”

“For what?”

“To ask you what you honestly think?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

A bird trilled out the window, the flowers in the garden blooming in a hundred shades. “Why are you here?”

Apollo rolled his eyes. “I already told you that. I’m here as a punishment to force my ascension. And also because my father wants an account of your city’s devotion to him.” He clasped his hands together. “Don’t worry. Despite my belligerence yesterday, I’ve already written him a letter explaining the sincerity of the dedications at the temple.” He smirked. “I wasn’t too flamboyant, or he would’ve known it wasn’t sincere. He’s aware of my disdain for it, you see.”

I shook my head, unable to process the change in Apollo’s demeanor. “Why do you disdain the dedication? You’re a deity.”

He clicked his tongue. “I also explained that yesterday. I’m as honest drunk as I am sober—maybe more so. It’s unfair to the people, not to mention cruel to the animals involved.”

I actually agreed with him on that. But that was our society. That was the culture created by the gods—his family in fact. And he would one day be a reigning deity himself. It wouldn’t surprise me if a few decades in the future I oversaw a temple dedication in his honor—regardless of my feelings on the matter. I cleared my throat. “Would you like a drink?”

He breathed in through his teeth. “I’d better not.”

“Do you mind if I have one?”

“Go right ahead.” He gestured to the decanters, and I popped one open, pouring a glass, the auburn liquid sloshing. I took a long swallow. “So, you’re here for Temi’s sake?”

“Right.” He sighed and leaned onto the desk, propping his chin up on his hand. “She wants false hope.”

“For what?”

“That I won’t ascend.”

“But you will?”

“I’m a god. It’s my”—he stretched his arms out, his words dry—“destiny.”

I hesitated. Because I knew that feeling all too well. His words had sunk into the pit of my stomach because I also faced down the arrow of a future I had no choice in.

“You don’t seem happy about it,” I said.

He frowned. “There are a lot of things I’m not happy about. So… enough about me. What do I need to do?”

“For what?”

He rolled his eyes. “For you to mentor me in a way that you feel is”—he scanned over me, his nose wrinkling—“adequate and so you can send truthful letters to my father.”

“Do you want to be mentored?”