Page 19 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

Apollo

Our group had stopped for the night, and two separate fires burned against the velvet of the evening sky. Around one, guards hovered, their laughter peeling to us. At the second, I sat by Hyacinth and Len, who both focused on Delon as he spoke.

He leaned onto his knees closer to the fire, his skin warming as he thrust his hands out. “So, she did this thing with her tongue…” He stuck his tongue out, curling it up. “And then she drew it down…”

“That’s far too much detail,” Hyacinth said, smacking his mouth. “No one wants to hear all of that.”

Delon smirked. “Maybe you don’t. Everyone else here”—he gestured to me and Len—“seems interested.”

Hyacinth looked to Len, who cocked up an eyebrow. He shifted back towards me, and I shrugged. “What? It’s an intriguing story.”

Hyacinth clicked his tongue, but Delon laughed, clapping his hands together before grabbing a stick and stirring up the fire, sparks jumping into the dark sky. “I told you so. And don’t act like some damn prude, Cyn. It’s not like you haven’t had your share of companions.”

“Maybe Cyn practices the principle,” Len said, “that gentlemen shouldn’t kiss and tell.”

Delon rolled his eyes. “Hyacinth has the whole prince thing going for him. I bet half his partners have just been intrigued.”

Hyacinth huffed a breath. “Thank you for making me sound simultaneously easy and yet incompetent at the same time. Obviously, it’s the crown I wear that has resulted in anyone ever being willing to sleep with me.”

Delon slapped Hyacinth on the shoulder. “Anytime, Cyn.”

Hyacinth scoffed, but I draped my hand over his thigh. “It may be the crown that brings someone to your bed, but it’s not what compels them to return.”

Hyacinth’s cheeks took on a flush of color, but Delon and Len both burst into a laugh. “See,” Delon said, “this is what I’m talking about.”

A star outlined in crimson streaked the heavens, two more following in its wake. I sucked in a breath and rose to my feet.

“What’s wrong?” Hyacinth said.

I grasped his fingers. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

His eyebrows pressed together, but he nodded, and I strode away from the crackling fire and the hum of their conversation. The sky swept out like an inky blanket, draping over the mountains.

“Apollo.”

I turned and Ares stood before me, a shadow outlined by starlight. He wore a veil that pulled in his luminescence, and standing there, draped in the dark edges of the world, he seemed somehow small and insignificant.

“How are you, brother?”

He lifted his face to the moon, his cape ruffling around his legs. “I’m busy. Fates are shifting.”

I gasped. “War is coming?”

“Maybe.” He kicked a rock, and it clattered. “Father hears rumors, whispers, that Jupiter plans to move against him.” He let that hang between us, that phrase a shiver of cool air in a humid world. “He sends me to ask if you’re involved?”

“I’m campaigning for his sake. Has he not received the offerings we’ve made to him?”

“He has. And he’s pleased but suspicious.” Ares’ shoulders rose with a breath. “He wonders why his child, who hates him more than any other, would campaign for him.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Maybe I’m doing so to have an excuse to push off my ascension.”

Ares remained quiet for a moment, and an owl hooted in the distance. “That’s a believable lie that I will happily pass along to him for you.”

I bowed my head. “Thank you.”

“But you won’t like the other reason he’s sent me.”

I raised my face. “What is it?”