Page 25 of The Little Shop of Grand Curiosities

I growled. “I hate you.”

His smile widened. “I know, darling. I kind of like it.”

I curled my knee and knocked it into his groin as hard as I could before rolling off him.

Apollo cursed and groaned, doubling over with his hands between his legs. “Fuck, Nepheli! I was just joking!”

“If you grab me like that again, I swear to the gods, I’ll castrate you,” I snarled, aggressively brushing down my skirts.

He muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot likethemostinsufferable woman,which, if anything, was outstandingly hypocritical given that Apollo Zayra was the Crowned Prince ofinsufferable.

After he was able to sit upright again, he tossed me the leather flask that he had dangling from one of the many sheaths of his baldric.

“Truce?” he muttered in grudging acquiescence.

Oh, if only I didn’t need you to return me home.“Truce,” I gritted out.

I allowed myself a few moments to regain the rhythm of my heart before drinking hungrily from the lip. I almost finished the whole thing off before it occurred to me to ask if he wanted some water too. “Sorry,” I heaved, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “I should have left you more.”

Apollo shrugged. “I saved it all for you anyway.”

I stared at him, a little surprised.

He merely folded his arms behind his head, closed his eyes, and basked in the tree’s generous shade. He did everything so easily. He was so confident in his body that his every movement was lithe and unself-conscious. I wondered what it was like to go through life like that. Gliding. Acting instead of questioning. Being instead of fearing.

On a surface level, at least, Apollo was easy to watch, easy to get used to. The rough skin of his palms, his bronze neck, the sides of his face, chiseled and sunbaked—and the way his eyes fell on you when he felt like being kind and you felt like seeing a miracle.

I tucked that thought away and lay down next to him, keenly aware of my limps. I liked the way the ground felt beneath my body. It was an unfamiliar comfort. I was a city girl. I had never had those summers in the countryside, toes in the grass, frolicking in the backyard kind of childhood. I thought that maybe, in another life, I would like to live like this.

Slowly, I relaxed. My breathing paced. My mind emptied. My muscles softened. For a few moments, there was nothing to worry about, nothing to consider. Only the leafy boughs wavering in the wind, the light peering through, playful and warm, and the butterflies fluttering from blossom to blossom, indecisive by the plentifulness of the forest.

“It’s nice here,” I murmured. “I can’t remember the last time I sat outside like this. It makes me feel weirdly nostalgic. Like I want to redo girlhood.”

“You should see it in the summer,” Apollo said, quiet, eyes still closed. “Everything’s golden. The air smells of honey. You fall asleep to the rattle of the cicadas. Never too hot. Never too dry. Just right.”

“Do you spend every summer here?”

“I haven’t spent a summer here in years.”

I twisted my neck to glance at him. “Why not?”

“I’ve been traveling a lot,” was his only answer.

“Is this your passion? Seeing the world?”

Apollo grimaced. “I don’t have passions. I am, in fact, utterly passionless.” His voice was as indifferent as ever, but there was an undercurrent of tension that made me think I was edging onto dangerous ground.

“I don’t think that’s true,” I blurted out.

It should be true. A heartless man should be above all else without passion. Without dreams. But I didn’t think this was the case with Apollo. His soul remembered what it was like to be whole. His soul was still alive, and that was obvious. He was inconsiderate, but not unkind. He was impetuous, but not malevolent. No, Apollo had his soul. It just didn’t change the fact that he was still heartless.

I twirled last night’s words in my mind—all his talk about being better off without his heart. But what was the point of life without the heartache, the love, the moments of ineffable happiness? Was he really content with being cursed? Could he evenfeelcontentment?

“There must be other things you want in life. Apart from being an aimless solivagant, that is,” I persisted.

“Oh, Miss Curiosity knows some big words,” Apollo whistled.

“Shut up,” I grumbled.

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