Page 65 of A Veil of Gods and Kings

Apollo strode out alongside me to the fields where Emrin, Delon, and Len flung the discus across the golden hum of afternoon light that filled the air. Their feet chuffed against the ground, grass tearing up as Delon dove, a streak of dirt smearing over his thick jawline.

Their laughter tangled together but broke off when Emrin spotted us. “Cyn.”

Delon rose, wiping his mud-flecked hands on his shorts, before walking over and smacking my shoulder. “Finally joining us, Your Highness?”

Apollo’s features tightened, but I made a sound in the back of my throat. “It turns out, I’ve met someone who’s never played a game of discus before.”

Delon lifted one of his thick eyebrows and turned towards Apollo. “Is that right?” He thrusted a hand forward. “Delon.”

Apollo clapped his palm to his. “Apollo.”

Delon froze, and Emrin scowled behind him. “You’re Apollo, Zeus’ son?” Delon said.

Apollo cocked his head to the side and grinned. “No, the other Apollo.”

Delon stared at him for a moment before shifting to me. I rolled my eyes. “Ignore him. Gods have terrible senses of humor, it turns out.”

Apollo gaped, but then he elbowed me. “Look at you having an actual personality.”

The other three’s shoulders dropped though tension lingered on the edges of their expressions, a wariness in the way they held their arms at their sides. “Well,” I said, “are we playing or not?”

Len lifted the shimmering bronze discus and flicked grass blades off of it. Delon scanned over me. “Are you going to get your fancy frocks dirty?”

Apollo burst into a laugh, and I rolled my eyes but pulled my shirt off, folding it. “You all could give more of an effort to make it look as though I have friends that actually like me.”

Delon snatched the discus from Len, who glared at him before speaking to me. “Nah, it’s the rest of the country’s job to kiss your ass. We’re here to keep you humble.” He flung the disc, and I jumped in the air, snagging it.

Apollo leaned in and whispered, “I like your friends already.”

I scoffed and prepared to snap something back at him.

But at that moment, he peeled his tunic off, dropping it to the ground.

I swallowed. Hard.

Apollo was beautiful clothed.

But bare chested with the warm light of early evening washing over him, he looked exactly how artists might portray a god, all firm planes and smooth skin. He ruffled his fingers through his hair, revealing the long muscular line of his side, highlighting the sharp juts of his hip bones as they trailed to the edge of his shorts.

“Are we playing, Cyn?” Emrin said.

I lifted my eyes to him and coughed. “Yes. Right. Of course.”

Emrin frowned at me again, his hazel eyes tightening. “You and Delon can make up a team.”

“Oh, so we get the team short a player?” Delon said.

Emrin rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who claims to be the victor of this sport.”

“Because I am.”

“Yet, you’re complaining about the lack of one player?”

“You chose the god for your team.”

Emrin wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his arm. “You get Cyn. He’s the best at the game.”

“Cyn’s out of shape.”