Page 57 of A Veil of Gods and Kings

“Yeah, I know.” I brushed her hand off. “He actually gives a shit, and it hurt him. I’ve got it.”

“So, you’ll apologize?”

I nodded and squeezed her into a hug before trailing farther into the palace. The entire night my thoughts had rested with Hyacinth, the wonder in his eyes at the city he’d never seen, the surprise at the dining house, the devastation as he took in the children. I chewed my lip. Was he still awake? I wasn’t sure, but he seemed to work constantly. I ambled down the carpeted halls towards his office and rapped my knuckles against the door.

“‘S open,” he slurred, and I stepped in. Oil lamps reflected against the mahogany desk. Hyacinth took a swallow from a glass full of amber liquid and then gestured to a seat. “Please, come in.”

I dropped into the chair and tapped my fingers against its carved arm. Hyacinth sighed, his robe draping against his form in a puddle of wrinkled fabric. “Is there something you”—he winced—“need, or something I can do for you?”

“Are you drunk?”

“I’ve had a few drinks.” He slurred over the words. “I’m not drunk. There’s a difference.” He gestured with the tumbler again, and the liquid sloshed out of the glass, splattering across the desk. “Fuck.” He dropped the cup, his hands scrambling through papers.

I shook my head and pulled off my sash, offering to him. He took it and sponged up the spill, and I smirked. “You’re a delightful not-drunk.”

He scowled, his fingers scrunching as he cleaned up the mess. “And you’re annoying.”

I laughed hard enough that my body trembled with it. “Oh, I much prefer you intoxicated to sober.”

“And I much prefer”—he stuttered over the word and dropped against his seat—“when you keep your opinions to yourself, golden boy.”

I groaned. “We are not in nickname territory in this relationship.”

“Why not?” Hyacinth knocked back the rest of his drink and breathed in air over his teeth. “We’re stuck with each other for the year. Do you truly intend to spend that entire time calling me Hyacinth?” He set the glass down with a clink, and it reflected the lamplight in rings of gold over the wood. “The only people who call me that name are those who are kissing my ass.”

I laughed. “Well, tell me your nickname at once. I don’t want you to mistake me for that category.”

He smirked, opening the top of a bottle. “Would you like a drink?”

“No. I’m not sure it’s wise for you to have anymore either.”

“As I said”—he tilted the bottle, and the liquid sloshed against the sides of his glass—“I’m not fond of your opinions.” He took another taste and smacked his lips. “And most people call me Cyn.”

The low light reflected over the surface of his eyes, his tan skin glowing. His features had returned to their normal state, and it panged at me how attractive he was. And, perhaps, his heart was beautiful as well. What a strange thing, a prince with a treasury stocked with jewels, a palace full of servants to meet his every whim, and, to top it all, he was the most alluring mortal I’d ever seen with his rich hazel eyes and elegant bone structure, and yet he cared for others. I fiddled with the edge of my tunic. “Cyn. That’s tolerable.”

He pointed with the cup again, the drink sloshing against the rim. “How about you?”

“Me?”

“Any nicknames?”

“No. I have dozens of names; I have no need for one.”

He frowned into his glass. “Fake identities. That’s the opposite of a nickname. The latter is what friends and family affectionately call you.”

I paused at that. Yes, well, there was a reason I lacked nicknames. I kicked my ankle up on my knee and blew out a breath. “I came here this evening because I owe you another apology.”

He frowned, taking a last swallow of his drink, and pushed the glass across the desk. “You were right. I don’t know everything about my kingdom.” His eyes took on a dark glint. “I’m sure you enjoyed that.”

“I did for a minute.” He puckered his lips, his nose wrinkling as he shrugged down into his chair. I sighed. “But, I realize it was wrong of me.” I tapped out a clicking rhythm against the wood. “I had an idea.”

I’d had many ideas since spending the evening with him, starting with the fact that Temi was right. I could bring the wrath of my father onto Hyacinth’s kingdom by neglecting to spend time with him. I could draw Zeus’ fury on him personally. And after our time in the city, something ached within me at that idea. A strange desire to protect him swept through me. Where else could you find someone like Hyacinth, attractive, pampered, and yet compassionate? I never even knew someone like that could exist.

He cocked an eyebrow up. “Your idea is?”

“We”—I gestured between the two of us, the movement fanning still-damp papers—“could do something about it together.”

Hyacinth pressed his fingers against his temple. “When? Do you have any idea how busy I am? And then you”—he waved his hand dismissively at me—“show up here demanding even more of my time and acting like”—he scoffed—“a royal asshole.”