Page 43 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

Boreas nodded. “Too true. Zeus has always set his mind to his own benefit. But most of us have been wise enough through the ages to not cross him. What about you, Apollo?”

I let the toast rest on my fingers, the heat of it burning my flesh, and shrugged a shoulder. “I doubt anyone would use the word ‘wise’ to describe me.”

He hummed a response and popped the last bite of bread into his mouth. He smacked his fingers together and rose. “A word of wisdom, then, from someone who, if not wise, at least has more life experience?”

“That is?”

“Letting your heart get involved”—he fixed me with a look—“will often impede your ambitions and plans. You should choose one or the other.”

“Thankfully, as you said, Hyacinth doesn’t appear interested in me.”

He scratched behind the ear of a hound. “I did not say that though I believe Zephyrus thinks that. He’s always been a fool.” His voice lowered. “But an ambitious and vindictive fool. Keep that in mind.”

“What ambitions does Zephyrus have?”

Boreas’ expression broke, and he whistled, calling both of the dogs to his heels. “As I said, I don’t get involved in such things. Ambitions are not for men like me. However, I will do this much for you. I’ll host a dinner, and we can invite many of the connections that you and the prince are wishing to make.” He nodded towards the fire that sputtered, sparks of flames clambering against the dark stone of the chimney. “Have as much toast as you’d like. It’s a simple pleasure, but one I greatly adore. I’ll leave you with your thoughts now.”

I sank into the chair.

Damn it. Boreas had seen through our ruse. I wondered if he would tell Zephyrus that he suspected we were together. That would fuck any chance Cyn had of unearthing secrets. A selfish part of me wished that would happen. I was already over pretending to not care that Zephyrus hovered around Hyacinth like a fly. But we needed that information. This was a smart move. It’s why Hyacinth was the decision maker of the two of us.

Zephyrus would have knowledge we didn’t, though. He was—as Boreas had said—ambitious and well connected with many of the lower deities. But Boreas’ expression had held a discomfort. Zephyrus must have ideas he didn’t approve of. And that concerned me. He was only a wind god. He couldn’t possibly plan to have ambitions against Zeus himself. That was a fool’s errand if I’d ever heard one. But something disturbed Boreas about his plans. We needed to figure out what they were.

Those thoughts sunk into me throughout the day and even during dinner. The only thing that broke my focus on it was when Zephyrus kept touching Hyacinth, a finger over his knuckles, a hand grazing his arm.

The sun within me burned.

I rose from the dinner, bad feelings surging through me. Delon jumped up and threw an arm around me, leaning in and whispering. “Len and I plan to play a few rounds of cards tonight. Interested in joining us?”

I shifted towards him. “I guess I could be up for that.”

“We’re gambling.”

“Even better.”

He grinned and smacked my shoulder. “I knew I liked you. Meet us in the library in half an hour. I’m going to see if Cyn can get loose from”—he rolled his eyes—“the wind god.”

“That seems unlikely,” I said, and I couldn’t hold back the way my voice sank.

“Well, I have to try, at least.”

I nodded and headed down the halls to the library to wait. Len had already made it, and he bent over by a fireplace, stacking logs.

“Would you like help?” I asked.

He gestured to the wood.

In a short time, we had a roaring fire going, and a table dragged closer to it. Delon arrived, bringing not only a stack of well-worn cards but also several large bottles of spirits, his other hand clutching a group of glasses that clinked together.

“Any word on Cyn?” Len said.

“He doesn’t think he’ll make it.”

I frowned and snatched up the cards Delon dealt to me.

“You look like you could use a drink.” Delon lifted the glass in my direction. I nodded, and he smirked. “Excellent. I plan to take all of your money tonight.”

“I’m a half-god. It takes a lot to get me drunk enough to play poorly.”