Page 81 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

My shoulder pulled, and pain seared through me.

My vision blurred.

And the world faded again.

34

Apollo

Flags whipped in the wind from where they hung incrementally through the city of Ansair. Our group ambled through the intricately carved facades of buildings that hunched in towards each other, as if they meant to touch. Hundreds of bodies rambled by, sweet and smoky smells of street food jangling together with the low hum of people speaking.

A breeze swept down my coat, and I tugged it in tighter. Despite moving farther south, Ansair lay in a mountain pass, and it remained cool. I grazed my thumbs along the plain material of the jacket. I wished I’d allowed Hyacinth to choose a more elegant style now. The one I’d chosen looked too common for a god coming as an ambassador of a country. But I had the marks of a high god, and I’d unleashed my veil fully, the light glimmering and drawing attention I longed to hide from. It was all I had to bring to this—my status as a deity—and I didn’t want to fail.

Delon had donned a formal outfit in a deep blue color with navy filigree patterns. He kept his shoulders rolled back, his jaw lifted, as if this was a normal thing for him and didn’t bother him at all. How nice that must be.

We walked under a massive archway inlaid with gems and designs of ferocious looking winged creatures, and the noise and bustle of the city faded behind us.

A man with sharp, dark eyes stepped before our group and bowed. “Please follow me.”

Delon nodded to our guards, and we continued forward through a maze of marble hallways and past several gates before entering a throne room that made Hyacinth’s look demure.

Our footsteps echoed over the ivory and gold tiles that reflected light from the seven massive chandeliers hung above. Hundreds of people dressed in richly colored robes and dresses studied us as we strode through the space.

When we reached the throne, our guards bowed, pressing their faces to the ground, and Delon leaned forward, folding his torso towards his knees. I followed his lead and then rose again to find the king studying us, his lips pinched, his dark hair ruffled beneath a crown decorated in hundreds of jewels. “Ambassadors from Niria, I hear?”

“Your Highness.” Delon swept into a submissive stance once more. “Thank you for making time to see us. I’m Delon, son of Lord Piers of Niria, and this is Apollo, son of Almighty Zeus.”

The king’s eyes dashed to me at that, but then he flicked his gaze back to Delon. “It surprises me, Lord Delon, to have visitors from Niria at all. It’s been many moons since our countries have even traded together.”

Delon grinned, as though this was going in the right direction. “I am privileged to say I have had a rich education, and during it, I’ve learned a considerable amount about Ansair, including the connections your King Dioson had with our country.”

The king scowled and shifted in his seat. “You speak of my great-grandfather and how Niria acted as an ally for him. Your words concern me, Lord Delon.”

“Do they?”

“You reference the history of men that are long dead. But you pull up our military ties, which makes me believe you intend to call on them, as though a war fought a century and a half ago would bear decisions I make for my country in the present day.”

The muscle at the end of Delon’s eyebrow twitched. I’d learned—through more than a few poorly played card games on my part—that was his tell. I cleared my throat. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness. I had hoped we could create connections for Ansair that might reach farther than just human nations.”

The king shifted to me again, but his expression darkened. “It’s interesting as that is not the rumor I’ve heard carried on the wind.”

A chill slipped down my spine.

The wind.

Delon stiffened as well.

So, that bothered him too.

I cleared my throat. “What god does your city patronize, Your Highness?”

The king twisted his mouth up, as though he chewed on words. Eyes of the people in the court sliced in our direction and a nervous energy swept over me. We had only a handful of guards. We had all left our weapons back with our horses and carriage outside of the city—a requirement to have an audience with royalty—and we stood in a deeply protected, walled-in space, where hundreds of people, many armed, stared at us with contempt. Shit.

“Your father,” the king said to me, “has long considered our lack of deity-worship to be reprehensible. However, our kingdom considers changing that. Perhaps your party could stay with us this evening.” He nodded to a guard next to him, who returned the gesture and shifted dark eyes to us. “And we could discuss more in the morning?”

I hesitated. Everything in me seemed to pull away from the idea, my heart pounding. Something was off. I exchanged a look with Delon, and he smiled. “A gracious offer, Your Highness, but we have already paid for accommodations within the city proper. Let us know whatever time is most convenient for you tomorrow, and we will gladly return at your pleasure.”

The king’s jaw shifted, and he leaned against his throne. He hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Very well. I’ll have a messenger sent for you at sunrise.”