Page 37 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

Notus nodded. “Mmm, that they are. It’s a shame Euros isn’t here. He adores a good morning out on horses.” He laughed. “But autumn is his season, is it not?”

“It is, that,” Zephyrus said dryly, annoyance coloring the pitch of his words as if Notus had reminded him the two of us weren’t alone together.

“Horseback riding never intrigued me, but wouldn’t anyone else like to go with them?” Notus raised his voice, gesturing to the table. “How about your companions, Prince Hyacinth? Hmm?”

Delon cleared his throat and looked at me. I gave the subtlest shake of my head, and he shrugged. “Len and I already made plans today. Inside plans that don’t involve snow.” He scowled.

“Well, there’s that.” Notus draped against his chair and rested his chin on his fingers. “And, you, Lord Apollo?”

Apollo’s lips parted, but I spoke before him. “I’m afraid Apollo doesn’t ride horses.”

Zephyrus grinned again, shifting towards Apollo. “What a shame. The high deities always believe they’re above simple, human pleasures, but truly they miss out.”

Apollo cleared his throat and rose. “I think I’ll spend the morning in your library, if you don’t mind, Boreas.”

Boreas raised his face. “Of course, of course. Make yourself at home.”

Apollo nodded to him, and then his golden eyes met mine for just a moment, a heartbeat, but they held so much. Hurt seemed to ache through them. I pulled in a deep breath and had to brace myself against running after him. He knew this was all for show, didn’t he? I didn’t invite him because me getting Zephyrus alone was part of the plan. And he was aware of that. But a queasiness settled in my gut as he rose from his seat.

His shoulders dropped as he disappeared past one of the cavernous doors. My heart ached and tore at me. I needed to figure out a way to get Zephyrus to talk, and fast, so we could leave.

Zephyrus scoffed. “Apollo is such a moody character. It’s a wonder you could tolerate being around him all summer. Was it a terrible punishment?”

I readjusted in my seat, my gaze longing to shift to the hall Apollo had walked down. I allowed a gentle smile to trail over my lips and leaned in towards Zephyrus. “A punishment is exactly how I described it when I first received word from Zeus. But we can’t deny him, can we?”

Zephyrus’ expression darkened. “No. I suppose not.” He stood and fluttered his wings out, stretching them wide, so they reached the length of four chairs. That was compensating if I’d ever seen it. “Are you ready to go?”

I bobbed my head and followed him. Once we made it out of the stables and had trotted on horseback far past the palace, reaching a peak where sun peppered through fog, casting the world in a wash of peach that reflected in shimmering colors over the snowbanks, we dismounted and stood together, taking in the valley below. My cheeks ached from the crispness of the weather, but warmth from the ride still pumped through my blood as my breath laced into the morning air. “The horses,” I said, “are remarkable. They handle the cold so well.”

“Ah.” Zephyrus grinned. “Yes, we created them for the ice and winds. One of my particular projects.” He bobbed towards the horse. “Their fur is thicker, keeping them warm for longer, and they have stockier bodies that help conserve heat as well.”

“Clever of you.”

Zephyrus leaned against a tree that stretched leafless limbs against the crisp blues of the sky. Clouds shifted, and rays of the sun draped across the frigid world below us. Apollo would one day control that light and warmth. And that’s what he was to me. Comfort. Home. The opposite of Zephyrus, with his overly handsy manners and icy smiles.

I longed for Apollo to my marrow.

And it was stupid.

Because we had a few more days with the wind gods, and we could be together again.

But somehow a fleeting sense peppered through me, like I’d never truly grasp ahold of him. It would always be snatches of him I’d have, like trying to capture sunshine itself in a jar.

“Apollo is enamored with you,” Zephyrus said, those icy eyes darting to me. He scanned along my form, and my stomach soured. “Not that I can blame him.”

Panic flitted through me—worry that my feelings for Apollo had been too obvious—but I shrugged, attempting to keep my mannerisms relaxed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Zephyrus stepped in closer to me, his breath warming my cheek, and my heart jumped around in my throat. “Hyacinth, you must know what a beautiful man you are. I suppose I’m not the only god you’ve ever been with.”

He traced a thumb down the sleeve of my jacket, and I struggled to remain still and not recoil from his touch. Being with him was one of the highest mistakes I’d ever made. I had been young—too young, really—and he’d focused only on his own pleasures and desires. At the time, it had seemed exciting to have his attention. Now that I’d known the gratification of reciprocal lovers and had experienced the attentions of Apollo with his fingers eager to please, his eyes gleaming with my happiness reflected in them, I realized Zephyrus was the worst kind of man.

I laughed, and it echoed against the mountain ringing back, false even to my ears. “It feels like you want me to account for my partners. That wouldn’t be terribly gentlemanly of me, would it?”

Zephyrus clicked his tongue. “Who said anything about being a gentleman?”

The horses shook their heads, their manes tossing in the wind. “I certainly don’t find myself in the bed of every god I meet, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He smiled again, leaning in closer to me, and dread sunk into the pit of my stomach. I cleared my throat. “I heard that you married. How does Flora fair?”