She led Apollo outside where the maypole was raised and the dead danced. It took her a moment, but she finally found him standing with a crowd of souls: Hyacinth, the young man Apollo loved. He was well-muscled and beautiful, with a swath of golden hair. When he smiled, his teeth gleamed; when he laughed, it was like music. She knew when Apollo saw him, because he stiffened beside her. “Go to him, Apollo,” she said. He hesitated and paled. “Does he remember…?” “He still loves you,” she said. “And he has forgiven you.”
