Chapter One

I found Dax in the mortal courtyard, as it was sometimes called, since surrounding it were many quarters for favored mortals chosen by the gods. It was as beautiful as any other courtyard on Olympus, with marble pillars surrounding it, lush greenery, intricately carved statues, and benches with plush pillows where our guests might lounge and enjoy the perfect weather. It only ever rained on Olympus if a god was in mourning.

I had caused a downpour or two myself.

I did not make my presence known right away. I hovered, hiding behind one of the pillars, to watch Dax in the company of others. He was beautiful of course, as any who ascended from acolyte to courtesan would be, tall and strong and bronzed tanner than even I. A lover of my domain and more beautiful for it but never burned. Auburn hair spilled about his shoulders, and dark, deep brown eyes kept the attention of all mortals—and gods—who looked upon them.

Just as those eyes had kept my attention last night.

We'd walked through the salon first, enjoying food and wine, but eventually tread to the edges of it and beyond, where we could be alone. Clever Aikos had dressed Dax in a one-shoulder chiton dyed similarly to my own robes. We were a match in more ways than one, but as full of hope as I felt in Dax's presence, something I had not known in ages until I glimpsed a possible future with him through Aikos's eyes, I still had doubts.

My frigid heart could scarcely remember what it was like to be set aflame without eventually having its embers smothered. I wanted my doubts to be proven wrong, and so I started with learning about the bronze beauty beside me.

"Tell me, Dax, about your life before Aphrodite's temple, about what brought you there, and about your time there too, so I might begin to know you."

He was slow to find his tongue, something I assumed he usually had no trouble with, as courtesans were well-versed in how to use them. I found his stumbles charming, however, because it proved his heart was genuine.

And I did not like liars.

Dax recounted his childhood and all I had asked of him, including meeting Aikos and their fierce friendship. But when he reached his ascension and his time with the high priest who'd chosen him, he admitted disappointment that the love he'd longed for hadn't been found.

"Because love is what you seek most in life?" I'd asked, reaffirming his admittance.

We had paused on a balcony overlooking the world below. The sun, my sun, had finished its trek across the sky some time ago, and the stars above were a canopy of diamonds. Tears of the gods, some mortals called both stars and their gemstone cousins.

But there was no need for godly tears tonight.

"Y-yes?" The word wasn't really a question but trembled from Dax's lips. Then he laughed with a lovely timbre. "Forgive my nervousness, lord Apollo. I never imagined I would explain all that directly to a god and not simply in mortal prayer. Do you… hear our prayers?" His dark eyes sprung wide.

"Aikos wondered the same," I said, lowering my voice to a whisper, "and was just as concerned when Zeus confirmed that, yes, we do."

The darkening of Dax's cheeks told me which of his prayers he must have been thinking about, for many mortals, when they did not truly believe the gods were listening, could get quite creative in their requests of us.

Like when Dax had prayed for a lover with the heat of the sun god in his touch—while fondling himself beneath the gaze of my statue.

"B-being in my lord Apollo's presence has set my face aflame." Dax pressed a palm to one of his rosy cheeks. "I hope there is no offense in anything you have ever heard from me. Before or now. This is all a bit overwhelming, talking to the god I most admire. Aside from my patron!" he corrected, as if fearing Aphrodite might appear that moment to throw him from Olympus for choosing another.

She might have, but not when Dax's love and loins clearly led him toward men.

"I fear I am spurning all my teachings and making a fool of myself," Dax said.

"You are not. Many mortals become overwhelmed in the presence of gods. Aikos dropped to his knees on several occasions."

"So he said." Dax's cheeks darkened again after muttering that, clearly knowing the reason for some of those knee scuffs. "I mean—"

"Aikos told you of his time with each of us?"

"Yes." He cringed.

"And what did he tell you of his time with me?"

Dax hid his face by looking to the sky. "That… your coupling was heat and cold colliding high above where Atlas holds the world."

"He spoke only of that?"

"Yes?" This yes was spoken with questioning, as if Dax wondered if I might tell him more. There was more to tell. There was the chaos of my mind and my mourning from all my mortal loves lost, and the moment when I'd pushed Aikos from my chariot to enact a rescue of Icarus that I had failed at the first time.

I could tell Dax that, but I did not want to worry him that I was some mad god to be feared. Perhaps I was, but I did not wish to be. So, instead, what I told him was, "I recounted my best-known stories to Aikos to see which he knew and to remind myself of some of my losses. He knew my stories well."

"As do I," Dax said with a touch of reflection. "I feel like I know so much about you, but those are stories, as you said, legends. Your valiant slaying of Python. Your time as a mortal to repent for that slaying. The curse of Casandra. The arrow loosed that claimed Achilles. The loss of, um…" He did not trail off because of forgetfulness but the realization that he named my greatest loss of all.

"Hyacinth," I finished. There were other losses, other failures, but his I felt to this day.

"Yes," Dax said. "It all feels so much grander and greater than me."

"I began my life as a mortal, as you said, but I never took it for punishment. It made me… love you." I used the grand you, meaning all mankind, but I assumed he didn't know I had never and feared I would never say those words directly to a mortal or fellow god. "It made me love you in a way not all my brethren can understand."

His worry softened, and though he had venerated me above other gods before, in that moment, finally, he saw I could be an equal. That was all I ever wanted, and why I sought potential love with mortals more than my own kind. With another god, I would always be reaching. If set above, I would always be reached after. I wanted to reach outward, meet my love in the middle, and embrace them like only equals could.

"Let us get to know each other as men, Dax, not as courtesan and god. Tomorrow, after I bring the dawn, I will seek you again."

He looked disappointed. Given Aikos's experiences here, Dax had likely assumed the evening would end with him stripped and ravaged by a god with the same searing touch that Aikos had told him about. But I could not risk ruining my chance at love again, not when success was so tenuous, regardless of the prophecy I'd seen. Prophecies could be thwarted, and this time, I would take great care with how things progressed.

If my heart thawed only to freeze once more, it would crack and shatter, never to feel warmth again.

"My lord Apollo, um… if we are to part for the evening, what do I… do?" Dax asked with a furtive look around our balcony and its steep drop-off toward the distant earth in one direction, and the maze of unfathomable Olympian architecture in the other. "What about my priest? I was not happy with him, but he was by no means a poor master. He will find me gone when he wakes and wonder."

"Aphrodite will handle that," I assured him. "And for as long as you wish to remain on Olympus, Dax, you shall, in your own quarters."

I'd showed him to them, prepared in advance by Aikos, who'd crafted the rooms especially for his friend. When we parted, I kissed his hand like when we met, but nothing more.

Yet.

In the mortal courtyard, today Dax was wearing white with a violet sash. He looked just as striking as the night before, more so, for while talking to fellow mortals, he was at ease. He lounged upon one of the pillowed benches with an eruption of his captivating laugh and a shake of his auburn hair like a cascade of deep, dark crimson.

There were muses among the mortals. I wondered if Dax realized. Included was Calliope, their chief and muse of epic poetry. 'Twas her who'd made Dax laugh, and I heard her ask him to recite something, a favored poem of his, for it seemed she and her brethren were as taken with Dax as everyone else.

Beauteous courtesan who I so desired to know, to understand the heart of before I discovered what lay beneath the layers of his tunic, recited from Theocritus the "Death of Adonis."

When he neared its conclusion, his voice drew me out of hiding.

"‘As on a carven statue

Men gaze, I gazed on him;

I seemed on fire with mad desire

To kiss that offered limb:

My ruin, Aphrodite,

Thus followed from my whim.

Now therefore take and punish

And fairly cut away

These all unruly tusks of mine;

For to what end serve they?

And if thine indignation

Be not content with this,

Cut off the mouth that ventured

To offer him a kiss'."

Dax readied the final lines but spotted me and lost his breath to a gasp.

To not leave his audience wanting, I finished the poem for him, for while he might have been among muses, I was the god of poetry.

"But Aphrodite pitied

And bade them loose his chain.

The boar from that day forward

Still followed in her train;

Nor ever to the wildwood

Attempted to return,

But in the focus of Desire

Preferred to burn and burn."

Like Dax, the other mortals gasped upon noticing me and bowed their heads, but Calliope and her muses applauded, both for me and Dax's beginning.

"Forgive me, friends," I said to muses and mortals alike, "but I seek the company of young Dax for myself, if I might borrow him."

The gathering parted, scurrying in different directions to leave me and Dax alone. No one would question a god, but it was still polite to ask.

Dax sat up taller from how he'd been lounging, as if yet unsure if he should fall to the ground in supplication. I was glad he did not and sat beside him.

"It should be no surprise coming from a courtesan, but your eloquence in reciting one of the great poems was quite compelling."

"As was your ending of it," Dax said. "I do usually prefer happier tales."

"It was happy for the boar. At least in that iteration. Although, as I am sure you know, the real boar—"

"Was Ares," Dax finished, smiling, and seeming to relax out of his stupor at my appearance. "We were taught many disciplines along our path toward becoming courtesans. One favorite of mine was always storytelling, especially stories of the gods and their mortal entanglements."

"Entanglements," I repeated. "A kinder word for it than how it ended for some."

Dax's smile drooped, and I thought perhaps he understood I was issuing a warning. I did not intend for any harm to come to him, but I could not promise that none would.

To be courted by the divine, as he called it, was a path filled with more perilous trials than courtesan ascension.

"Hence why I prefer happier tales," Dax said. "There are happy ends for some, and to discover such an end for oneself is a worthy pursuit. Love worthiest of all."

And so, I had his answer. "You might make a fine poet yourself, you know. I would be interested in hearing that eloquence recite something composed of your own words."

"I have dabbled," Dax admitted, "but never found the right inspiration to create something that moved me as much as my favorites. Perhaps inspiration is close at hand now." He shifted upon his pillows, arching back to lounge again in a way that was… familiar. A remnant from his training to always be beautiful beneath an admirer's gaze. To always be engaging. Always be… seducing.

He and Aikos had grown up as rivals, after all.

I wondered if it was purposeful or subconscious the way Dax's neck lengthened to create the most attractive line down his body. It invited my eyes to trail from the fetching unevenness of his jawline, just enough to add character and uniqueness to him, down his long neck, and further to the one-shoulder fall of his tunic that revealed a nipple, which grew pert the moment my eyes fell upon it.

If purposeful and planned, what a miraculous control he must have over his body. That too invited me—invited me to lose all control over mine and my insistence to court him instead of claim.

"Poetry is one of your domains," Dax said, drawing my eyes back to his with a twinkle in them that I might have taken for calculating. But he was not Aikos, nor was he in a desperate fight for his life. He did wish to seduce me, but as a man might woo another man.

I had to believe that.

"You have many domains," Dax continued, "all equally vital. Do you have a favorite?"

I had to believe he wanted me and not just what boons I might grant, because he also wanted to know me, as I wanted to know him. "Normally, I would say no, I love them all, from archery to music to seeing through the span of possible futures. But there is one domain that brings me a rare joy. And well-timed, it seems." I tilted my head, for at that moment I caught the words of a mortal in prayer. "I believe I can show you."