Page 111 of A Veil of Gods and Kings

“No,” Hyacinth snapped the word out so fast it cracked like lightning in the summer air.

A heaviness draped between us, storm clouds that had built so slowly, we hadn’t paid them notice, about to burst. And we stood unsheltered, two souls caught up in the other, ignoring all the signs. “Cyn, you know I leave… and soon.”

“Must you?”

My heart clenched, like coal smoldering before forces pressed it into something better. “Yes.” Ares’ words drifted across the landscape of my mind. “I have to.”

Hyacinth bowed his head, moonlight glowing along the outline of his features, his strong nose, the dip of his lips, the sharp jawline, as kingly and noble as a person could be formed. “Of course,” he whispered, tangling his fingers tighter with mine. “Then we will have to make the most of what we have left.” His voice turned light and playful. “I need you to write a list of all your other fears, so we can face them before time runs out.”

“The last time I did that you shoved me off a cliff.”

He scoffed. “You jumped. And it was fun.”

“One of those statements is true.”

We both chuckled, and Hyacinth’s eyes twinkled, catching a glimmer of the ivory of the moon. But the expression dissolved, a sadness permeating the surrounding air. The items that might top my list of fears were no longer as simple as they had been only a few months before. I tightened my grip, my soul so heavy it sank into my feet. And we returned to staring at the heavens that played out before us.

39

Hyacinth

I had forgotten.

That was all the words needed, really.

I had forgotten that Apollo left soon, that he was a god, that his life was as untouchable to me as the sun itself. I’d worried about it burning me. How foolish to ever think I could reach the heights required to touch it?

For just a moment, Apollo had made me feel like a young man more than a future king.

And I’d allowed myself to buy into the sweet taste of that. We’d snuck out of the palace and played games and spoke of our dreams, as if we were boys, our futures still so far ahead it shone as bright as the morning star, not close enough to it yet to see the scars it brought, to notice that some parts didn’t sparkle.

For that short period, a lazy cloud of a moment sailing across a blue sky, gone before you could jot out a verse worthy to capture it, we’d found something within the other. Home maybe. That’s how Apollo made me feel. Grounded and soaring at the same time.

And to know he’d leave, to really know it, ached through me.

I wanted to speak with him, to piece out more from our conversation the night before. But as I strode towards Father’s office the next morning, an attendant walked up and bowed. “A letter for you, Your Highness.”

“Thank you.”

I accepted it though why Tresson had an attendant chase me down to deliver it made little sense. I flipped it over. The back bore a seal with a vine of roses wrapped around a sword, and my heart galloped. I snagged my finger under it and skimmed through the contents before turning towards the nearest attendant. “Run and tell the kitchen staff to increase their preparations for dinner, and have someone inform Prince Emrin and Princess Epiphany that the king returns today.”

The attendant bowed. “Yes, Your Highness.”

I continued along to my destination but skimmed over the page again, the intricate handwriting, the affection hidden beneath the formality of the words. Father, home.

“Good news, Prince?” Apollo said.

I lifted my face. “Sorry.” I wiggled the parchment. “My father returns this evening. He should be here by dinner.”

Apollo’s chin raised, and he nodded. “Ah, I suppose our mentoring and work draws to a close sooner than we’d expected.” He gave a painful smile, like he grasped a blade that cut him, but dug his palm in deeper.

“Why do you say that? With my father returning home, we’ll have more time together, surely?”

“Maybe,” he answered, his gaze growing distant.

I swept up against him and pressed my lips against the corner of his jaw, letting his heartbeat thunder against me.

“Aren’t you worried someone might see?” he said.