Page 45 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

“Then pull up a chair,” Delon said.

Zephyrus grabbed one, placing it between me and Hyacinth.

Hyacinth’s jaw tensed like he’d clamped his teeth down, but he lifted his drink. “To a good game.”

Zephyrus accepted a glass for himself and clinked them together.

And I dropped my attention back to my hand. Well, the best five minutes of the week had passed. Time to shift my focus to the cards instead. But the laughter had died out, like a fire draped with water, only the sizzling smoke of a pleasant evening remaining.

18

Hyacinth

The formal dining room in the Palace of the Four Winds held hundreds of different beings who mingled together, glasses of wine in their hands they had carried from their abandoned seats after the dinner. Most of the deities in attendance lacked the glow of the high gods, their skins glimmering with a more subtle shine. A few other human city leaders peppered through the crowd.

And many of the gods in attendance were from Jupiter’s court. Though not all. Which was interesting. I didn’t realize how many of the low deities from Mt. Olympus intermingled with those from the west.

Silvanus—a slim man with a pinched expression who had sat by me at dinner, tightened his fingers around the stem of his glass. “The thing is, Prince Hyacinth, most deities are low deities, and they grow tired of the politics and upheaval that the high gods cause.”

“I can appreciate that, on a smaller level, perhaps.”

His sage eyes twinkled. “I imagine so. It’s not so different, being a prince and being a god, is it?”

My gaze slipped over to Apollo, who stood glowing and golden, a thick cloak draped over his shoulders. A tremendous smile dominated his features as he spoke with a group across the room. He seemed as at ease as a person could be. And it was the fakest I’d ever seen him. Perhaps Silvanus had a point that being a royal and being a god were more similar than one might think.

He continued speaking. “Wars happen, and for you, a city is burned down. For me,”—he swept his free hand up against the draping tunic he wore—“a forest is decimated. And in both situations, what did the creatures that live there do to deserve their fate?”

“Fate,” another god said, stepping up beside us. He shimmered silver, his eyes glowing golden. A high god. “What an interesting topic.”

Silvanus cleared his throat and lifted his goblet in the god’s direction. “Janus. A pleasure.” He bobbed his head to me and turned, absorbing into the press of bodies.

“You see, Prince Hyacinth, that’s how many humans and gods alike react when fate comes for them. But not you.” His eyes scanned over me for a minute as the hum and chatter of the crowd swept us up. “How interesting.”

“Forgive me, I haven’t made your acquaintance.”

He didn’t respond for a moment but scratched his fingers over his thick, curly beard. “Janus, god of transitions, the past, and the future.”

“Do you see the future?” I said and only realized after the words came out that my voice sounded too eager.

He continued to stare at me without speaking, and a shiver slipped down my spine. I longed to shift towards Apollo. I suddenly wanted someone by my side—someone I could trust unhesitatingly. But I forced myself to keep my gaze off Apollo—as challenging as that was.

“I do,” Janus finally answered. “But I don’t disclose it, not even to Jupiter himself, much to his unhappiness. Do you know why?”

I had a strong feeling I didn’t wish to learn the answer to that, but I forced a congenial smile on. “Why?”

His eyes bore into mine. “Because most beings—even the resolute ones like yourself, Prince—could not bear to hear what all they will face on the path they walk along.”

I couldn’t help it at that point. I shifted towards Apollo, who already studied me, a note of concern in his expression. He gave me the slightest nod before turning back to his conversation. If he was aware I was uncomfortable, I must show too much. I stilled my muscles. “I suppose every path has it ruts.”

Janus smiled, an eerie look on him. “A clever response. I think you believe that if it would change the outcome—if it would protect the people in your kingdom—you’d be willing to hear the tragedies stalking you.”

My skin crawled, and I longed to leave the conversation, but he was right. “I would.”

He chuckled then and took a swallow of his drink. “No. You only believe you would. It is too much to bear, the heartache of a lifetime all at once. Especially for a man who walks a particularly tragic path.”

Dread snaked over me. Perhaps that was his aim. He wanted to throw me off. He didn’t feel like a friend. “I suppose we have to make the best decisions we can and keep moving forward.”

“Indeed. Your father certainly shares that perspective. He saw war coming for your kingdom and decided, if one must face down destruction and death, he might as well use the opportunity to remove your people from the tyranny of Zeus.”