Page 92 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

“Oh, shit.” Delon grabbed my tunic in his fist and pulled me in the opposite direction. We slammed back through the alley, weaving through people. The noise of the assassins echoed around us, the rhythmic thumping of their feet, the sharp cries of their yells.

We turned a corner and hit a dead end.

Delon cursed and smacked his hand against the bricks. The men rounded the path as well and unsheathed knives that glittered in the light of the setting sun.

Delon released a breath that whooshed out of him.

But I firmed my stance. We would not die or be captured or thrown in a prison here or whatever the hell these men had in mind. Gods, were these people fearless? I was Zeus’ son. And while that wasn’t a fact I was proud of, it did normally keep me out of trouble like this. But apparently Ansair lacked fear of my father.

Our pursuers eased towards us. I hadn’t replaced the weapons I left off for our audience with the king. I had been so focused on the gnawing disappointment and heartbreak I’d overlooked thinking through things.

But I had one tool—rusty and neglected as it was—that I could use.

I’d spent my entire life avoiding my powers once I realized pushing into them too much would cause my ascension. That magic bubbled up in me all the time, and I had to clamp it down, ignore it.

But what did it matter anymore?

I’d already vowed to ascend by spring and had ruined things with Hyacinth.

If I ascended in order to save Delon and myself, what would it hurt?

I sank into my body, allowing the glittering heat of my powers to rise. It flooded through me in a way I’d never experienced—an ocean hit by a hurricane, a wave rising to destroy.

A golden light formed around me, hot and snaking. Delon stepped away, covering his face with his hands. My muscles shook while attempting to control the magic. It was like trying to hold on to a boulder that tilted in the wrong direction.

I clenched my teeth and willed that power forward. The light exploded, knocking our pursuers over. I snatched Delon’s wrist and pulled him with me, running through back alleys and making a dozen turns before stopping and leaning onto my knees, my breath trembling out of me.

I lifted my hands.

Where the red of my mortal blood gave my palms a pinkish hue.

I hadn’t ascended.

Damn. Maybe it actually would be hard to do.

Perhaps Temi was right, and I needed to practice.

Delon punched my shoulder. “Yes. That—that right there—is the kind of shit you have to do if you want to receive the good dedications.”

I lifted my face. “You nearly died, and you’re still thinking about dedications.”

“What better time to think about the things that will outlive us?” He chuckled as well and wiped sweat off his brow. “That was a solid move. We need to figure out how to get the fuck out of this city without notice.”

I dusted my jacket off. An edge had gotten torn in our flight. It was one of the few items I had that Hyacinth had given me. My thumb lingered on the tear. “I can veil us, so no one recognizes us.”

Delon’s mouth popped open. “You can magically veil us, and you thought now was the time to bring this up?”

“Well…”

“Forget it, Apollo. You’re never getting good dedications.”

I laughed, and it felt nice, a reprieve amid everything.

“Come on, then.” Delon smiled. “Veil us, and let’s see if we can track down any of our guards if they’re still alive and get the fuck out of this city before those bastards are after us again. Those assassins wore official seals on their cuffs, meaning they’re sanctioned by the king. If he wasn’t obvious in his meeting earlier, I’d say that made the message pretty clear. I think it’s safe to say we’re in enemy territory.”

“That or you were right.”

“About what?”