Page 6 of A Veil of Gods and Kings

“She doesn’t care for the gods. I can’t say I blame her.”

“It has nothing to do with that.”

“Really?” I took another swallow of my wine. “What is it, then?”

Ares shrugged. “She knows our father means to take you away from here. She doesn’t wish to lose you.”

“Ha, I can’t believe that. If I were to live in Olympus, she could get on with her life. I hold her back.”

“You do no such thing. And believe me or don’t, but the gods know what’s in a being’s heart, and she’s deeply devoted to you.”

“Well, she deserves better than me.”

“Now that”—he thrusted a finger in my direction—“I can agree with you on.”

I kicked my ankle over my knee, my shadow that stretched out over the tiles jumping with the motion and flickering in the light. “So, what is Father wishing for me this time?”

“Fair warning to you, Apollo. He’s angry.”

I cringed, my voice lowering to a whisper. “That’s nothing new.”

“Your prophecy keeps you alive. He’s killed children who’ve been less disrespectful.”

“Damn that prophecy,” I said, dropping my wine to the table. It sloshed, some of the burgundy liquid spilling onto the wood. I grabbed a napkin and mopped it up.

“That prophecy has made Father favor you.”

“Who wants his favor?” I crumpled the rough fabric of the napkin into my fist. “Do you know what I saw while walking today?”

Ares cocked his head to the side. “Let me guess. Not your brother who you had an appointment with, so it either had to be some obscure detail of the human world or a mortal acting mortal and therefore dull.”

I smiled. “A child fell and scraped his knee. And his father jumped off his cart and bent down to rinse it. He then kissed him on the top of his head and held him until he’d stopped crying.”

Ares took another swallow of his wine. “So, the latter, then?”

I laughed. “Humans have so much that the gods don’t. The gods don’t even understand what they miss.”

“And do you have that, what the mortals have, down here in the human world?”

I paused, dropping my face. “No.”

“You’re a god, Apollo. It’s what you were born for.”

“I’m half a god and haven’t ascended yet, so I’m still as mortal as I am divine. And I plan to keep it that way.”

“Father will not accept that.”

“And, yet, he can’t actually force me to ascend.”

Ares' eyes darkened, and he leaned forward onto his knees. “He has his ways of getting what he wishes. Be mindful.”

“He can feel free to kill me. That will just destroy his own ends.”

Ares' voice dropped, his gaze distant. “Which is why he’d never do it. He will threaten not you but those that you love.” He swallowed. “Learn from my mistakes, and do his bidding before you live an eternity with regrets.”

I reached out and draped my hand over his arm, but he shrugged me off and then stood, stretching. “We leave with the convoy at sunrise. And don’t plan on being late. Father will not find it amusing.”

The peaks of Mt. Olympus thrusted through the wool of the clouds like a spear, bleeding the world of every good thing. I cleared my throat and continued stepping along the uneasy footpath. Rocks jutted out like a warning. Attendants climbed alongside us, their heads held high, their hands pressed to their sides.