Page 84 of A Veil of Gods and Kings

“I know something is wrong,” I whispered. “You could talk to me.”

Her lips pinched. “I’m fine. Worried about everything coming up. That’s all.”

“We can put your presentation off for another year. You’re barely eighteen and—”

“No.” She patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. It’ll be okay. I’m just intimidated.”

I frowned. Worrying was half of what I did. Especially about her. Especially lately. “You’ll let me know if you change your mind?”

“Of course.”

I sighed and got up, ambled to my chair, and ate breakfast. But my gaze kept trailing to Epiphany, to the cloud of misery that seemed to hover around her like it breathed from her.

It pecked at me all day, the uncertainty of what to do. Wishing I had someone to ask advice from. Longing for Father to return, so he could decide.

It tangled into my thoughts so deeply I almost didn’t find Apollo’s good looks and sharp remarks distracting while we worked together that afternoon.

He shifted, the draping material of his tunic revealing the sculpted planes of his chest.

Well, it almost didn’t distract me.

Apollo raised his face up. “So”—he dropped his reed with a clink against the desk—“what are we doing this evening?”

“This evening?”

“Something new. Or have you already given up on our challenge?”

I smirked. “I’m not good at giving up.”

“Well then, any ideas?”

I considered that, rolled it around in my head. Then a grin snaked its way up my face. If Apollo wanted a challenge, I had one for him. “How do you feel about facing some of your fears?”

His expression tightened. “I’m listening.”

29

Apollo

Hyacinth snuck me out of the palace.

Through a path he frequently took, apparently.

And if I hadn’t stood on the edge of a cliff, a waterfall rushing endlessly towards the lake below, that might have impressed me.

As it was, my mind had room to think about one thing.

Falling.

From that precipice, specifically.

Hyacinth peeled his shirt off, and not even that image, his form bathed in orange mist that the sunset peppered through, was enough to distract me. He cocked his head to the side. “Could you die by falling?”

“No.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “So, what’s the worst that can happen? It seems illogical to be afraid of something that can’t actually kill you.”

My chest fluttered, my heart whirling around like an exploding star. “Fear isn’t about logic, Cyn.”