Chapter Four

When Apollo and I finished in the music hall, I was pleased he didn't immediately dismiss me. Instead, he led me somewhere new. When I asked where we were going, and he answered, "Toward my quarters," I was elated, but we did not enter his rooms directly.

We followed a railing back behind what I took for his rooms until we stood on a great balcony, massive, and with a space in the middle with no railing at all. I needn't guess why because his chariot was parked on that balcony. This was where he took off with it into the sky each morning.

It was gold and glorious and vaster than I would have guessed. It had a lounging sofa within it as large as a bed. My excitement grew again, but although Apollo allowed me to admire the chariot up close, he quickly led me in through the balcony doors to what I discovered was his private courtyard, where something even grander than instruments that could play themselves awaited us.

Apollo's horses.

I gasped to see them grazing within touching distance, should I dare touch.

"Since the sun has set, I knew they had returned," Apollo said. "They do not need me to guide the chariot, you see, but I do still start them on their path each morning. Would you like to meet them?"

The horses were a marvel. I had to wonder how they didn't set on fire the very grass they fed on, for each of them was aflame. They were identical in build, but the coloring of the fire that emanated from them and made up their manes and tails were each a different hue.

Blue, white, orangey-yellow, and burning red.

"Can I even go near them without—"

"Burning?" Apollo asked. He once again took my hand. "Keep in contact with me, and no flames of Olympus, the earth below, or the deepest depths of Tartarus can ever harm you."

Now there was a poetic promise, one I was afraid to test, but with my fingers lacing with Apollo's once more, my fear ebbed. "Which one is which?" I asked, as we neared the amber-colored horse first.

"That is Aethon, one of the stallions."

Its silken coat was warm, like playfully hovering fingers over a burning candle, but without sting or harm to my skin. Aethon nickered and flicked his tail in response to my pets upon his neck.

"Pyrois is the red mare." Apollo led me to the next one.

She turned for me to pet her nose and bucked against my hand.

"Phlegon is my other mare," he said of the white horse.

She seemed the most serene and did not even turn at my stroke along her back.

"And Eous the final stallion," Apollo said of the blue.

He was the most unique looking, although I suppose I had seen all four colors in the twinkle of stars. He preened the most too, turning this way and that, following my pets, but also as if to show off his beauty from different angles.

He reminded me of Aikos in that. I would have to tease my friend that he was no different than a vain stallion, though he'd likely take that as a compliment. More the reason to envy Aikos, for even something to chide him over, he could take in stride and embrace like a blessing.

That I could learn from him—to be less unforgiving of my faults.

"Have any of them produced a foal?" I asked.

"Many. When grown, they take to the skies and tend to stay there." Apollo tilted his head up, and since we were in a courtyard, it was open sky above us, night sky, all a twinkle. "They are visible from time to time, and I do visit them. Have you ever seen the blazing skies on a cold night, when it seems alive with dancing lights?"

"Oh, yes." I recalled such spectacle vividly, like shimmering, iridescent silk fluttering in the heavens. "A truly wondrous thing to witness."

"That is them. But there is one young foal not ready to join her kin." Apollo whistled, and I wondered if he had a different tone for each of the horses, for none of the others responded.

Instead, a small foal whinnied and made her appearance, galloping out from behind a pillar, where she must have been dozing. She was as fiery as her parents, Pyrois and Eous I'd guess, given she was a vibrant violet color.

"I named her Espera," Apollo said, "for she is the color of the horizon just before the last of the sun sets into evening."

"How lovely." In my excitement to pet her as she leapt around us, like a pup at play, I didn't realize I moved too quickly for Apollo's hand to stay in mine.

"Wait!" He pulled me against him with a shocking strength before my unthinking act meant a scorched palm—or worse. "Please, be more careful." Apollo's voice shook, spoken beneath my ear with breath on my neck due to his slighter height. The feel of him holding me so desperately from behind made me more aware of just how blessed I was.

A god had his arms around me, had allowed a kiss from me, and was so worried for my sake, his voice trembled while scolding me. I leaned my weight against him, knowing there was no threat of unbalancing us.

Apollo might be slight, but he was a marble pillar as strong as the dawn was certain.

"Forgive me," I said. "I forgot myself. She is lovely. And lively." I chuckled, when it seemed Espera was indeed like a young pup, for she leapt up toward us as if jealous we were embraced, and she was not part of it.

With one hand holding tight to Apollo's arm around my waist, I reached with the other to pet the foal's nose. Apollo relaxed and reached to pet her too. Our hands bypassed each other at first, but I was soon drawn to brush Apollo's fingers and tangled them with mine.

His firm body, and his firmer cock twitching from within his tunic behind me, confirmed that my advances were not unwanted. And yet, when I brought our linked hands to my lips and began to lick one of his tan digits, he jerked away from me.

"Perhaps we should call it a night," he said, voice still a tremble, though no longer out of fear, I thought. Espera had trotted away from us to leap around her parents' feet, and I was no longer in danger of an accidental touch.

That did not mean I felt relief. With the chill left from Apollo no longer being molded against me, I felt an uncertainty that, as an acolyte nearly unparalleled in skill and seduction, I had only ever felt when competing with Aikos.

I faced Apollo. His erection was evident. His want. His blush even. But he would not meet my gaze. Perhaps there was fear in how he shuddered. All was not lost, but I had to be patient. Truly epic romances were rarely achieved in a few days.

"Of course, my lord." I bowed. "I can find my way back. Thank you for gifting me the meeting of your fine steeds. Will I see you again tomorrow?"

Apollo's golden eyes returned to mine at last. His tension waned, and he offered a strangely warning smirk. "Yes. But be warned, it might be a more harrowing excursion for you than our previous encounters."

"O-oh?" A stir of dread filled me. "May I ask why?"

"Because," he said, "my sister has asked to meet you."

I was as nervous as I'd been those first few moments in the Olympian salon. Today, I was to meet Apollo's sister, down upon the earth, where he led me to a field with an obvious archery range. Which meant she'd be armed, though I doubted she ever wasn't. She was the goddess of the hunt, after all.

Artemis, also goddess of wildlife, the moon, and… possibly ruthlessness, given some of her more vengeful stories. One notable example being Acteon. The poor doomed man had accidentally discovered her bathing and was turned into a deer to be eviscerated by his own hunting dogs.

And here I was trying to court her beloved twin.

"Should I be prepared for anything?" I asked of Apollo as we neared the archery range. It was in a small clearing but with thick forest around it. There were no obvious signs of people or animals. Even the birds and ambient noises of the forest seemed to have gone quiet in expectation.

"Be you. Be honest," Apollo said. "And you needn't fear a thing."

An arrow shot across the entirety of the clearing and wedged with an audible thunk into the center of the middle target. I startled with my heart in my throat but saw no one. Then, from the branches of the tallest tree on the farthest side of the clearing from where the arrow had struck, dropped down a graceful wisp of a woman, who landed with no sound and as if the distance she'd fallen was no feat at all.

I must have stopped moving because Apollo took hold of my elbow to lead me forward. As we neared his sister, there was no question she was beautiful. She looked just like him. Same height, similar build, given her defined muscles, just a slightly more feminine curve to her jaw.

The greatest difference from Apollo was her coloring, like silvery moonlight in contrast to his sunshine. Her skin was pale, hair and eyes true silver, and she wore her silvery-white, waist-length hair tied back in one long, thick braid, with a few curls framing her face. Her simple tunic seemed purely white at first, with occasional crescent moon-shaped embellishments like Apollo's sunbursts, but upon closer inspection, when the fabric shifted in the light, it showed silver embroidery in the shape of animals, weapons, and constellations.

Artemis bore no smile as she looked at me, her eyes as sharp as the point on her already nocked next arrow. "He seems fit enough," she said, scanning my form with detachment.

"Be nice, sister," Apollo scolded. "He is more than fit. You need only get to know one another to see that. Shall we make a contest of it?" He released my elbow now that we had reached her and proceeded to summon a bow out of nothing like he'd summoned his lyre yesterday. Apollo's had a bit more character to it than Artemis's, and like his lyre, was painted in gold. I admired the simplicity of hers, unadorned for pure function.

"A contest between me and him?" Artemis sneered.

The thought of Apollo handing me his bow chilled the blood in my veins worse than her stare.

"Between you and me," he said. "We each take a shot. If my aim is truer, Dax may ask you a question. If yours is, you may ask something of him."

My terror abated. It seemed Apollo already knew me well. Questions I could ask and answer, but I would have been no match against Artemis in a battle of bows. He also must have known she would ask for such a contest herself if he hadn't stepped in.

Still, she seemed skeptical.

"That is hardly a fair test of him. Does he need your protection?"

"No. Neither do I need his." Apollo squared off against her, and their paralleled complementary appearances was like being witness to an eclipse—in mid-sibling banter. "I do not require a companion who rivals me with weapons. I am the master bowman, after all."

"And I the master archer, neither man nor woman being of consequence," she spat back.

I chuckled, and although Artemis cast her eyes on me like a blade strike, I steeled myself. "Forgive me. The pair of you makes me envious. I did not have siblings as a babe. Although my fellow acolytes became as such, and it was in similar exchanges that I felt the most among kin."

Apollo's sunny expression melted me, much as Artemis's continued to chill.

She manhandled Apollo into position, facing the distant targets.

"I have already made my first shot, brother. Beat that."

He nocked an arrow that manifested like fire and took but a single breath before releasing it.

The flames licked Artemis's silvery arrow as it struck the central target nearly overlapping. It seemed so close to my eyes, the shots may have been identical.

"My win," Artemis said.

"Indeed," Apollo conceded.

I trusted the eagle-eyed vision of gods. "Ask away," I said to Artemis.

"How many partners have you been with in accordance with your patron's tenets?"

Straight to the point then. "I gave myself fully to the priest who claimed me as courtesan. Before him, I was with all my year's acolytes at one point or another. Unlike Aikos, I did dally with both female and male acolytes, although as I aged, my preference became clearer to me."

"So, many, would you say?" she pressed.

"Yes, most in youthful teasing and exper—"

"Many," she reiterated and raised her bow to fire again.

Her shot was as equally impressive as the first.

As was Apollo's.

"My win," he said.

"Yes."

Again, I took them at their word.

"Tell me the story of Orion," I prompted, noting that both twins straightened at the name. "I mean no offense, but it is my experience that not all tales of the gods are completely accurate in how mortals pass them down."

"And how has that tale been passed down?" Artemis asked.

"As I heard it, Apollo tricked you into killing Orion, someone you might have loved, simply because he didn't like him and was jealous of his affections for you. But I believe there must be something missing from that version."

"And why do you think that?" Apollo asked with a calm smile.

"Because you love her, and she you. It would have to be more than you not liking a possible partner to go to such extremes. You would put your sister's happiness first, as I believe the same is true for her." I dared return my eyes to Artemis with nary a blink.

The twitch at her lips said she was at least mildly impressed. "You're not wrong. I thought I loved Orion and wanted Apollo's blessing. He knew Orion to be one with many partners, the untrustworthy, insatiable type." She made no attempt to hide her meaning with that comparison. "Apollo did not trick me so much as made certain that I caught Orion in the act of bedding another. Now, he adorns my tunic and the skies, forever out of reach of any woman's touch."

She looked up, and although no stars were visible, I caught the shimmer of the constellation she meant on her dress—the three points of Orion's belt, which he would never remove to philander again.

Vengeful? Undeniably. But earned.

The twins fired at the third target, of which there were a total of five.

This win went to Artemis.

"You gave yourself fully to your priest, you said," she began before even lowering her weapon. "Yet you abandoned him without thought?"

"I was taken," I said. "Brought to Olympus without my say."

"So, you've asked to be returned?"

"No—"

"Then you abandoned him."

"I was unhappy!"

"You abandoned him because you were unhappy," she made it sound so thoughtless and harsh in her repetition, "when you once believed you would stay with him and only him. Did you not?"

"I… I did."

"You abandoned him without looking back because it suits your desires now."

"All fair," I said, and she looked smug in her seemingly second win of our questioning. "I did ask what would become of my priest, what he would think after discovering me missing, and when Apollo said all would be handled, I didn't question it.

"Until after that day on the earth with you." I turned my eyes to Apollo. "We parted a little earlier that day, and I found myself feeling… overrun with guilt. Having witnessed in the waters that man who wished to heal his friend, I went back to the bowl and asked to see my priest. He honestly looked relieved. I think he knew we were not a good fit. He had been granted a vision from Aphrodite of my fate and is happy for me. He will get first pick of next year's ascended.

"But even knowing all that is not enough. I have been writing a letter to him. I wish to explain myself, so that any wounds my parting caused him might be healed. The god of healing was very inspirational for me that day."

The suns of Apollo's eyes flared. "That was what you were writing the next morning?"

"That. And other things." I was not yet ready to tell him all I had been writing. "Does that better answer your question, my lady?" I returned to Artemis.

"Hn," she huffed, which I took for a win to my side again.

The fourth loosed arrows announced Apollo as victor.

I had a simple question this time, one with only a one-word answer.

"Tell me, my lady, if you truly believed your brother to have found a worthy partner, would you accept it and wish them well?"

A moment of fury passed over her features, but she eventually said, "Yes."

Vengeful, but a good sister.

They moved to the fifth and final target. Artemis shot first, superbly centered like all the rest, but knowing she had at least one more question she ached to ask of me, I joined Apollo when he readied his bow.

"My lord, I believe your stance might be a bit tilted." I took hold of either side of his hips, bringing my own up close behind him as if to mold against his back.

The arrow loosed wildly, missing the target by such a wide margin, its high arch shot it into the woods.

"Oops. Perhaps I was wrong." I stepped back.

Apollo turned to me with a curious expression. The god of prophecy did not know all, but surely, he could read the signs of what was in front of him. "Or perhaps I am out of practice. Allow me a moment to retrieve my arrow. We wouldn't want my mistake to have unjustly skewered a nursing doe."

Fire erupted from Apollo's back, outlining the air with wing-shaped flames like rays from the sun. As if a mirage, they rippled in and out of existence as they took him airborne to chase after the arrow I had caused him to misfire.

He was breathtaking. But my objective was not to admire.

"Why go and do that?" Artemis stepped in front of me to block my view of her brother. Like Apollo, and I was certain any of the slighter framed gods, her diminutive figure did nothing to quell my mortal terror.

But Apollo was brilliance who wanted to bask me in his light—me. Whether worthy of that or not, I could not let fear be what stumbled me upon my path to earn it. "Perhaps there is a question you would ask me that you would rather not ask in front of him."

The air cut as if with the swing of a sword, and while I tried to register the sound, everything else happened too fast for me to defend myself. I stood tall, and then, in a blink, I was against a tree trunk at the clearing's edge, with Artemis's bow on the ground, and one of her arrow points at my throat.

To be handedly overpowered by one so much smaller than oneself is truly humbling.

"So clever, aren't you? Then you think you know my question already, do you?" she asked.

"I do." I dared not move or even breathe or swallow too heavily, for the sharpness of the arrow could mean my death with barely a press. "What are my intentions with Apollo, and can I truly be the one who mends instead of breaks his so deeply wounded heart?"

A furrow of her brow was the only sign that she was surprised her derisive demand of me was something I could answer with the question she had yet to ask. "Mortals like you and even supposed friends among the gods have hurt my brother too many times." Her voice shook with a mixture of love and rage that could only be expressed by one who had felt their kin's pain as deeply as if they had experienced its causes themselves.

"I know." I kept my own voice steady. "And I cannot promise I will not be another point of pain for him. I cannot. Because I cannot see the future like he can. But what I can promise you is that I desire nothing more than the chance to be part of what makes him shine so luminously. To be worthy of his love, not as a worshiper receiving a god's blessing, but as a man loves another man."

The pause as I awaited her response seemed endless. Then, before I realized she'd released me without leaving even a scratch to spill a drop of my blood, Artemis was several meters away, walking back to where we'd been.

I caught up to her, allowing the silence she'd chosen, for it was better than an arrow point or a cursed existence among the stars, just as Apollo returned.

His sunbeam wings were beautiful when they flared at his landing and then vanished again. "Well, sister? Are you satisfied yet?" he asked.

"Almost." When the full force of the moon faces you, believe me, friend, it is as daunting as the sun. "You do not need to compete with me, Dax, but I would still see you shoot." She handed me her bow and an arrow to fire.

I stood breathless at first. I was trained in many things, but archery had never been my forte. A wrestling match would have been preferable. Even a sword fight. "If it… pleases my lady. But I hope I am not too much of a disappointment."

"Just hit the target."

Artemis's arrow in the center of the fifth target remained, as I squared my stance to attempt to at least not wildly miss the way Apollo had.

Whether as retribution for my act or simply to be near me again, Apollo moved in behind me. "Allow me to assist," he said.

The gentle nudging of his feet between mine to alter my stance, his hands turning my hips just so, and then adjusting my elbows, were all a more delicate endeavor than how I'd boldly gripped him. No less intimate or purposeful, for it relaxed and elated me to have the god I adored touch me at all. My attentions on Apollo might have caused him to miss, but his emboldened me.

My arrow loosed and struck center—between the actual center and the outermost ring. Better than I'd ever done though!

"You show promise!" Apollo praised, squeezing my shoulder.

"More like uselessness," Artemis grumbled. But when I handed back her bow, rather than fury or disapproval, her face showed a passive acceptance. "Maybe not entirely without merit." She nodded, first at me, then at Apollo.

Foregoing any proper farewells, Artemis turned to the line of trees behind us and leapt up into their branches with the agility of an Aegean cat. A few soundless bounds later, she was gone.

Apollo patted and squeezed my shoulder again.

"Well done, Dax."

"That was me having done well?" I'd hoped so, but if Apollo was cryptic, then Artemis was an unequaled enigma.

"Believe me," Apollo chuckled, "if you had not done well, you'd know."

I did not doubt that at all.