Page 126 of A Veil of Gods and Kings

And I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I did so until he wept, his muscles trembling against mine, his tears tracing over my collarbone.

And we stayed like that, two stars shimmering against dark water, for a long time.

As we returned to camp later, hands hinged together, the fire burned low and Temi lay curled up, the hilt of a knife in her grip. She flicked her eyes open, nodded to us, took a deep breath, and rolled over.

Apollo dropped his knapsack and allowed his fingers to run over me, feather-light touches, as if he wasn’t sure I really stood there. “Where’s your bag?”

I gestured out to the campsite. “I didn’t bring one.”

“What?” He gasped. “You just left the palace without a guard or food or… gods, did you even pack a weapon?”

“I did not.”

“Hades’ realm, Cyn. What were you thinking?”

I trailed my hand down his arm until our fingertips touched, and then I laced my fingers into his. “My father reminded me that maybe some things are worth taking a risk for.” I huffed a breath. “Our sisters played some role too.”

His eyes darted to Temi and then back to me. “What kind of role?”

“Well, my sister told me off—worse than you ever have, in fact.”

“I’ll have to work on that record.”

I laughed. “And Temi”—I nodded in her direction, the navy blue of deep night slinking over everything beyond her form—“informed Valerian of the path you all would take.”

“Our scheming sisters.”

I smiled and pulled in tighter to him, let the warmth of him radiate around me, tucked my chin on his shoulder.

“So, you don’t even have a bed roll?” he said.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to share.”

I pressed a kiss against the corner of his neck. “Apollo?”

He leaned back, something as raw and vulnerable as a sapling, all tender leaves and breakable fibers pouring forth in his expression. “Yeah?”

“Would you let me see your knapsack again?”

His features tightened, but then he nodded and gestured to it. I grabbed the bag, the coarse fabric scraping over my fingers, and drew him down to sit with me. I pulled out the knives, the bow and arrows, the ribbon, the bracelet, the lyre, and then something unfamiliar. A folio, tied with a string. “You didn’t show me this before.”

His cheeks took on a touch of color, and he darted his gaze to the coals of the fire. “I didn’t have that in my bag then.”

“May I look at it?”

He nodded, and I unwound the strings, letting the supple leather fall against my knees. Writing with an artistic bent decorated the pages inside. I read the first couple of sentences and then gasped before thumbing through the rest, reading snatches of lines. “It’s a collection of flower poetry?”

Apollo worried his lip between his teeth. “Your two favorite things, are they not? Poetry and flowers?”

I sucked in a breath, brushed my thumb over the surface of the words. “You put me in your bag?”