Page 26 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

Guards shifted towards him, people scrambling out of their way. They snagged his arms, but he continued yelling. “Some of us can’t pay taxes as it is, and now you demand higher offerings to Zeus. You’re a disgrace of a leader.”

A guard drew a sword, but I thrusted my hand into the air. “Stop.” Wide eyes lifted to me from the crowd. I cleared my throat. “I wish to speak with this man.”

The guards hustled him away from the gathered people and herded him forward towards Apollo and me. “Not here,” I said to the guard flanking me. “Where can we purchase a meal? Somewhere private where we can talk?”

The guard frowned but nodded. Fifteen minutes later, we sat in a public dining house that stretched empty, the fire of the candle on the table in front of us dancing, its reflection weaving over the gritty wood.

The man, who had a mop of unruly walnut hair and large brown eyes, dropped into the seat across from Apollo and me. He pulled his hat off and swallowed, his throat bobbing.

“We haven’t properly met yet. I’m Hyacinth.”

“Cineas,” he said, his gaze lowered, his lip trembling over the word.

I gestured to Apollo who grinned as the proprietor set plates of food before us, the dishes clattering against the table. “And this is Apollo. Now”—I leaned back against my chair, crossing my fingers across my stomach while Apollo poured several glugs of wine into his goblet before tearing off a piece of pie and popping it into his mouth—“I wish to hear more of what you have to say.”

“Your Highness,” Cineas whispered, “if you plan to punish me, certainly it would be easier to move forward with it.”

“I’ll tell you something that Apollo”—I nudged him and he frowned at me before taking another bite—“told me not too long ago.”

“And what was that?”

“He said, ‘If I wished to kill you, you’d already be dead’.” I paused, letting that hang in the air.

“That’s taken out of context,” Apollo said, licking his fingers.

Cineas stared at him. Apparently, a god eagerly digging into food was more distracting than potential punishment from a prince.

“The point I’m making”—I grabbed the bottle of wine and poured Cineas a glass—“is that if I wished for you to receive a punishment or worse, it would be done. When I say I’m here to listen to you, that’s what I mean. If you have grievances you’d like for me to hear, now is the time.”

Cineas took a swallow of his drink, his hand trembling as he set the goblet down. His eyes darted to the guards, who watched him with dark expressions. “I’m the eldest of my siblings, Your Highness. I’m not even twenty, but the only man in the house. Six younger brothers and sisters who cannot work yet and my mother all rely on me. How am I supposed to increase my dedication to Zeus?”

I tapped my fingers against the table. “And you thought publicly decrying a prince and a god was the method to deal with this? What happens to your family if you end up in jail, Cineas?”

His color paled. “They would lose their home, Your Highness.”

I nodded. “Let me give you some advice. Reacting to a moment out of passion that can have a lifetime of repercussions for not only yourself but those around you as well is unwise.” I turned to Apollo. “Anything you want to add?”

He popped another bite of food, swallowing before speaking. “This”—he gestured at the plate—“is absolutely delicious. What do you call it?”

Cineas’ eyes darted between the two of us. “It’s just a vegetable pie, my lord.”

“A vegetable pie.” Apollo stretched the words out, and then he elbowed me. “Your kingdom is lacking, Prince. You need to have these.”

“This is my kingdom.”

His eyebrows rose, and he shrugged. “Your city is lacking, then.”

I clicked my tongue and turned to Cineas. “That said…” I side-eyed Apollo who ignored me. “It is a priority to me, to know the problems all of my citizens face. So, I’d be happy to discuss with you what hardships you, and others you’re connected with, might endure with this new law. While I think making connections with the gods is wise, there has to be some compromise where we don’t harm our residents. Do you not agree, Cineas?”

He trembled but bobbed his head.

Later, as we left the city, I turned to Apollo, who hunched down in the carriage seat, his veil tucked back in place. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?” he said.

“Figure out how to put him at ease?”

He shrugged. “For all his stupidity and blathering, he was really just scared. He needed to see us as humans, not evil overlords. And, as I told you, I know how to play a part.”