Page 52 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

He scowled at me, his eyes flitting to Hyacinth. But then a cruel smile slipped up on his lips. “Do you know what’s so interesting about Prince Hyacinth?”

My stomach swirled, but I swallowed another drink and kept my expression neutral. “What’s that?”

Zephyrus leaned in closer to me until his breath brushed against my ear. “He not only smells like jasmine; he tastes like it, too.”

My mouth snapped open, an ache surging through me like hailstones, like a dam breaking and flooding my limbs.

Zephyrus smirked and lifted his goblet in my direction before ambling into the crowd.

Across the room, Hyacinth smiled at something Boreas said, the smooth tan of his skin glowing in the candlelight. I swallowed hard and knocked back the last of my drink. I grabbed another glass from an attendant passing by. Fury and jealousy warred within me like dueling gods. And I was growing fucking tired of shoving them back. I tossed back the next drink and faded back into the edges of the party.

21

Artemis

The moon, full and round and so close to the ocean it seemed ready to dive in, glimmered like a pot of cream sat on the sea, its light shimmering over the beach. Waves roared as they crashed against the shore.

Sappho, who had donned a long, dark tunic, withdrew a key on a necklace and wrapped the chain around her hand.

“Did Phaon not wish to join us tonight?”

Sappho sucked in air over her teeth. “It’s a bit of a sore spot for her.”

“For Phaon?”

She chuckled. “No. For the goddess we’re about to summon. We may have once been”—she looped her fingers in front of her—“a couple.”

I gaped. “You’re calling a past lover of yours?”

She shrugged. “Yes. So, Phaon being here would not be a welcome sight.” She raised her eyebrows and leaned in towards me. “Mind you, Phaon and I didn’t come together until a year after we’d broken up, but for an immortal…” She gave her head another shake. “That is but a heartbeat.”

Dark palm trees resting in shadows shimmied in the breeze, their fronds rattling. For the love of Zeus’ child. Deities were often vindictive creatures. I knew that well enough from many life experiences. Now Sappho was about to summon an audience with a goddess she had spurned. That’s exactly what we needed. One more vengeful deity paying too much attention to me and Apollo. “What makes you think she will even appear when you call her, much less help us?”

Sappho ran her thumb down the key. “She once made a blood vow to me that she would always come if I called for her and that she would always be on my side.”

“And you broke up with this person?”

Sappho scowled. “It was a complicated situation. But she’s going to help. Even if it might be begrudgingly.”

I crossed my arms, my sandaled feet sinking into the sand, the cool silk of it slipping between my toes. “How often have you called on her since you separated?”

“Never.”

I shifted in her direction. “Never? So, why are you doing so for my sake?”

“A few reasons.” She set a bowl on the ground, dumping herbs into it. “For one thing, I like you. I understand after drugging your friend to sleep that feeling isn’t presently mutual, but I’m used to being unliked. It doesn’t put me off. Secondly”—she lifted her face to me, her eyes glimmering in the moonlight—“there’s something important happening here. I can… feel it. I haven’t spent decades interacting with gods to shirk my part when the time comes.”

I sighed but nodded, and she snapped flint and rock together, the small scrap of fabric catching flame, and she dropped it into the bowl. The sweet scent of the herbs tangled with the salt of the sea, and she placed the key against the dish.

“Hecate,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “keeper of keys. Hecate, goddess of crossroads, woman of wisdom and death. Hear me and appear to us.”

For a moment, nothing happened. Sappho kept her head bowed, her eyes closed. The smoke from the bowl wisped across the beach.

And then a rumble shook the ground, vibrating through my body.

Sappho trembled but maintained her bent posture.

A woman stood on the shore, her glossy auburn hair glimmering in the light of the torch she held. A snake curled around her shoulders, winding over her arm and up along the torch. It stuck its tongue out, smelling the air, before twining tighter.