Page 30 of A Veil of Gods and Kings

“Perfect.” I leaned down farther into it and released a sigh.

I draped a navy sash across my tunic, ruffling my fingers through my curls. Temi leaned against the doorframe. “I’m glad to see you dressing appropriately today.”

A grin slashed over my cheeks. “I have plans.”

She narrowed her eyes. “To have lunch with our hosts?”

“Well, that too… but I also have other plans.”

“How? You haven’t even had a chance to meet anyone yet.”

I shrugged. “That’s where you’re mistaken.” Temi wore a silver dress that undulated into shades of plum and gray as it shifted in the light. “My dear, how did you pack these dresses in your bag?”

She looped her arm into mine as we exited our suite. “I have my ways. Though I only have one other gown left after today. Let’s hope I don’t offend our hosts.”

I scoffed. “As stunning as you’ve looked in the two I’ve seen so far, you could wear them on repeat and no one would even notice.”

“You’re an idiot.”

I chuckled. “You’re welcome for the sincere and honest compliment.”

She squeezed my arm, her voice dropping to a whisper as we ambled down the marble stairs. “Please try during lunch.”

I sighed. “I’ll do my best. But, no promises.”

She rolled her eyes as we entered the dining room. Fabrics that glittered in the light from large windows suspended across the arching ceiling. Each place had a dozen pieces of silverware and wine glasses lined in jewels. I bit back a groan.

Hyacinth gestured to the seat beside him, and I took it. He wore another ridiculous robe in a variety of bright colors. He probably didn’t know how difficult it was to create each of those dyes, to piece together all of those fabrics, whose hands did all the work. Just like all the damn gods in Olympus, sitting around enjoying the luxuries won by the suffering and hardships of others.

A bitter taste filled my mouth, and I swallowed it back as attendants stepped forward, pouring wine. Hyacinth lifted his glass and took a drink, a ring on his finger sparkling.

“So”—Hyacinth fiddled with his silverware—“your father mentioned that you may visit with us for some months, but you would know the timeframe. Have you decided?”

I tasted my wine. Rich and heady and full-bodied. Ares would approve. “Ready to be rid of me already?”

Hyacinth’s expression brightened. “Certainly I didn’t mean that. I just wonder how long we should prepare for entertainment and so forth for our guests.”

I leaned in closer to him. His hazel eyes sparkled, the center shone caramel but darkened at the edges, like daylilies streaked with deep color. My voice came as a whisper as Temi’s gaze trailed to me. “Look, can we drop the pretense?”

Hyacinth frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not happy to be here, and you aren’t overjoyed to have me, either. If we have to spend months pretending otherwise, I’m convinced it may kill us both.”

Hyacinth parted his lips but didn’t speak, his gaze steady on me. Attendants arrived, scooping food out on our plates. One dished out a cut of beef, blood pooling onto my plate, and my stomach turned. Temi looked up from her conversation with Epiphany and cleared her throat. “Forgive me, Prince Hyacinth, but my brother does not eat meat.”

“Oh,” Hyacinth said. “I apologize. I didn’t know.” He raised his hand, and an attendant strode up behind him. “Please remove the meat and tell the kitchens we shan’t have any while our guest is here with us.”

I sighed. “Please don’t change your family’s dietary practices for my sake.”

Hyacinth swirled the wine in his glass. “I’m nothing if not an excellent host.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Even if I have no desire for my guest to be here.”

I turned towards him. A smile quirked on his face, and I chuckled. “Honesty is far more attractive on you than false pretense.”

“Is that so?” He stabbed his fork into a yam. “I would say the opposite is true for you.”

A laugh bubbled in my chest, and I took another drink of the wine. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

“May I ask”—Hyacinth cleared his throat—“what the purpose of your trip is?”