Page 62 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

“No. I want my horse now. And I want to take her out alone.”

“Epiphany, please.”

“Now.”

He hesitated for another heartbeat before bowing his head and walking over to the stall, leading Meadow out.

24

Apollo

Waking up next to Hyacinth, watching his chest rise and fall with his breath, had tempered me. We’d already had a final formal breakfast and would leave as soon as we made polite goodbyes to all the deities and other guests who milled around the receiving room, some still rubbing their temples or yawning from the long, alcohol-filled evening.

Hyacinth chatted with Boreas and Janus, his eyes wrinkling with his smiles. His outfit was perfectly smooth, his posture straight. After seeing him pulled apart and ruffled the night before, I admired that version of Hyacinth—the polished, sharp-eyed, and commanding prince. A veil he wore for others.

Gods if he wasn’t beautiful. I shouldn’t have watched him as intently as I did. But we’d leave within the hour, and I couldn’t help it. Hyacinth was the most attractive being I’d ever seen. That he chose me as a partner left me speechless with gratitude.

Zephyrus sauntered over, his fingers curled around his goblet. “Sulking by yourself, Apollo?”

“Drinking so early in the morning, Zephyrus?”

His eyes narrowed. “You know, for someone who is part of a group that is wishing to make connections with us, you’re rather obnoxious.”

“Wouldn’t you be disappointed if I were otherwise?” Knowing we’d leave soon had me in a good mood, and I found it easier than I’d expected to respond playfully to him.

He took a swallow of the drink, his golden locks glimmering in the window light. “What are your designs with Hyacinth?”

I shrugged. “What does it matter to you?”

“I mean,” he said, ignoring my comment, “it’s embarrassing how desperate you are for his attention. And he doesn’t even spare you a glance.” He tapped his finger against his glass. “You’re the same lost little boy god, hungry for recognition that no one cares to give you, brooding by yourself because your daddy doesn’t love you. What man would ever pay mind to someone as ridiculous and pitiful as you?”

My heart picked up, and I clenched my fingernails into my palm but took a slow breath. We were leaving. I could ignore him. “You’re probably right.”

He scowled. “Has your father beaten you down to where you’re too weak to even speak up for yourself? You stand back and allow me to pursue the man you’re clearly interested in. I wonder if you’d just stand back and watch while I fucked him as well?”

My blood ran cold, and I cleared my throat hard. “Are you in love with him?”

Zephyrus gave a sharp, piercing laugh. “No, I’m not as foolish as you, Apollo. Love is for idiots who have no real ambitions.”

Hyacinth darted his gaze towards us before shifting back to his conversation, but his brow furrowed, the v-shaped dimple rippling into it. A sigh slipped between my lips. I could keep my mouth shut for Hyacinth’s sake. I wouldn’t stir up trouble, even though in that moment I’d happily ascend solely to bring the fire of the sun down on Zephyrus’ head. “It’s well known that I’m not as ambitious as you, Zephyrus. I’ve never denied that.”

“Lacking ambition among a hundred other things. You know, I almost worried the first few days you were here that you might act as a spy for Zeus. But gods”—he laughed—“how foolish of me to assume you had such complicated motives. You’re a love-sick fool pining after a man who can’t bother to look at you. And who could blame him? Does he know about your past? Does he know how you caused the slaughter of a village of humans out of your foolishness? Or does he just dislike you because of who you are?”

He stepped in, his spicy scent tangling with the wine and making my stomach clench. “Why would a man as beautiful and worthy as Hyacinth bother with a god-castoff like you? He wouldn’t. And, one day, when the tides shift, he’ll be on his knees before me, in one manner or another.”

My nose flared, my breaths coming heavy and weighted. I had never loathed someone as much as this being, my father being the one possible exception. Zephyrus stirred up a lifetime of pain for me with a few pointed words like a poker coaxing sparks from a fire. But I would temper myself. I’d let it go. I forced my face to remain placid.

Zephyrus turned and walked away, his jacket whirling out in the air. I moved farther into the room, slipping into an alcove behind the curtains ensconcing it. Three massive windows allowed a view of the sunshine and blue sky contrasting against the painfully bright ivory of the world around it.

“You’ve made a valid point about Zephyrus,” someone said on the other side of the curtain.

I stilled, tucking tighter into the corner.

“I know you thought it was foolish,” a second person said.

“Zephyrus isn’t who we might have considered an ideal candidate. But he clearly has deep connections.”

“I’ve heard rumors that his wife is Jupiter’s daughter.”