Melis would have said it was a challenge, butwho would dare, and why? Some interference from the gods who felthe’d wronged them, perhaps. A test so they could see if he woulduse the human who called out for him as they would have done.
“I cannot.” Melis’ feet could not leave thefloor, so he stumbled back and then around Antero until the air nolonger smelled of Antero’s bathwater and the oils softening hisskin. “I can’t do that to you.” To hurt Antero would haunt him foreternity. Whoever had crafted Antero had made him for ardentaffection and adoration, not a god’s demands.
“Not even that?” Antero asked without turning,perhaps unaware that Melis had moved from him. “Am I also deniedthe right to call myself your favorite?
“No.” Even hearing those words made Melisshiver. “For that is what you are.” A god’s favorite was not alwaysblessed, not if another god grew jealous, but he didn’t think thatwarning would matter to Antero, who was all heart. “You have lookedto me, a god no one thinks of for anything serious, a god no onethinks of fondly even when I make their wishes tangible, for partof your soul. Or so it felt.”
No hero among the stars had dared that, nomatter how many monsters they fought. Even Melis wanted to flee inthe face of Antero’s courage, and slowly recognized the heat in hischeeks as a blush.
He carried on as firmly as he could. “But evensomeone like me could destroy you.”
Antero twisted to follow the sound of his voice.His lips were soft with a smile. “So concerned for me, GentleMelis.”
No one called Melisgentle. Melis’ cheeksburned hotter, the blush spreading down his neck and up to heat hisears.
“I want you safe,” Melis insisted, his handsover his face though his blush was as invisible as he was. “Happy.Cared for.”
“Loved?” Antero turned to face him. Strongcuriosity colored the question, but no bitterness. “That doesn’tseem to be my fate, unless you say otherwise.”
Melis’ hands became fists as he briefly pummeledthe air in frustration at human stubbornness. He stalked closer tothe window in the hopes that cooler air could calm him and glaredat the wind-swept sea.
“I will find you a husband and a beloved,” hesaid through gritted teeth, vexed enough to come dangerously closeto a vow he might not be able to fulfill. “Or at least a husbandwho is not indifferent to you, and who might develop affection foryou in the regular way. A hero, maybe, who should be courageousenough to see your quality without flinching from it. Warm feelingwill be sure to grow. You are a fertile garden waiting onlyfor…”
“A bee to ensure flowers?” Antero finished forhim, a hint of amusement in his voice like… like The Fair-Shapedherself, who forever knew more than she would say. But hisresignation quickly returned. “Finding a suitable match for anyking is a significant request. A friend who is not family or asubordinate would do. Even,” hesitation from Antero was unnaturaland uncomfortable, “even an occasional visitor, at night when I amalone, would be a kindness.”
Melis immediately scoffed. “Crumbs. You musthave more than that, rare one.”
Antero spoke as if wounded, though his desiresstayed warm. “I don’t think others view me as you do, Melis.”
Melis scoffed again and scowled at the sea thathad not wronged him. “I think they do and are afraid of their ownweakness.”
“And yet,” Antero must have decided to stepcloser to where he believed Melis to be, because his words grewlouder, “crumbs are what you allow for yourself. If I am the onlyone to ever praise you properly, you must be very lonely.”
Melis shrugged that away as much as he could.“They think I stand in the way of their desires, even when I don’t.That’s how it is, even with the elders.”
“Elders?” Antero prompted.
“Gods.” Melis tried to shrug that away too,leaving his feathers ruffled. “The ones greater than me.” Which wasnearly all of them. “They say I am small and spiteful, call me awasp and a bee for the stings of rejection and failure I dole out,as though they don’t kill out of pique or on a whim. TheEver-Present makes bets with his husband on human fates.” Runninghis mouth would likely cost Melis if he was overheard. He glancedaround before letting his gaze linger on Antero. “Kano theSatisfied, known as Indulgence,” who would surely would tell Melisto take Antero to sate this new hunger, “believes they arefrightened of me.”
Antero regarded the air where Melis stood. “Isthere a reason they shouldn’t be? Love makes fools of evengods.”
“Love?” Melis stepped back, bumping first intothe edge of the window, then the wall beside it because he couldn’ttake his eyes from Antero. “That’s not my domain. Many speak ofthat when they really mean lust, whichisa desire—the onemost think of. Many also wish for friends or bedpartners or aspouse. But those are things—people,” he amended his words quicklyso as not to offend the human in the room with him. “They’re not… Ido not rule hearts. I can only bring them together, the rest…. Icouldn’t guide them if I wanted to, or teach them anything of…” hewas compelled to whisper the word, “love. I don’t knowit.”
“Ah.” Antero bent his head, considering thefloor for a moment before glancing to Melis. “May I help you there,my Melis?”
Melis gasped, although if Antero was his claimedfavorite, it was his right to call Melis his.Hisgod asMelis wouldn’t be for anyone else.
“Sex is a part of love for many, for me,” Anteroadded that almost thoughtfully. “And sometimes even an expressionof it. But sex can also be had without love or outside of it. But Iimagine the rush of infatuation can make people confuse the two.And, at least from what the poems say, love and physical passioncan be intertwined, one heightening the other. Love means findingjoy in another person and them finding joy with you—wanting you tobe happy, however that is. I’ve wanted someone to listen, andsomeone to listen to and share burdens with. A husband, as yourightfully said. I want that—and smiles. Smiles must also beshared, but that is part of joy, is it not? That is—that wouldbe—bliss.”
“I don’t deal in bliss,” Melis informed himtightly. “I might stick two soulmates in a confined space and leavethem there to find each other, but they must work for bliss ontheir own. And even with part of their soul standing in front ofthem, far too many don’t.”
Antero raised his head. “Is that how even godsend up unhappy? Or do you cause that?”
Melis crossed his arms as he glanced away. “Imay have, once or twice, steered an immortal to what they insistedthey wanted though I knew it would leave them miserable.”
The admission brought some warmth back toAntero’s gaze. “And the happy stories? Princesses rescued fromabandonment and death by enamored gods who dote on them foreternity and the like?”
“I might have helped those along.” Melis did notenjoy blushes. “But only for the gods I like. It still doesn’t meanI granted them love.”
