Page 102 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

I chuckled, dropping my head to his shoulder. “It sounds like our prophecy is me and you against the world, so that’s probably a positive thing.”

He made a sound in the back of his throat but squeezed his arm around me. “If I had to be stuck with another deity to face that with, you’d be the only one for consideration.”

“Thank you, Apollo.” I leaned up. “Now, tell me what’s wrong?”

He dropped his gaze to the patterned rug at the ground where sunlight dimpling through a tree’s limbs glittered in waltzing patterns. “My trip didn’t go as expected either.”

“Your turn to share.”

His lips tightened, grief flooding into his expression, but then he explained their time at the Palace of the Four Winds, the issues with Zephyrus, his mistakes. I cringed but squeezed his fingers. When he finished, he tossed his head, batting away tears. “I’ve ruined everything.”

“Have you spoken with Hyacinth yet?”

His voice dropped to a hush of a sound. “I wouldn’t know what to say… even if he wished to see me.”

“Perhaps—”

A knock cut us off, and we both stood. “Come in,” I said.

The door opened, and Hyacinth stepped in, a gold-threaded robe on, his crown glimmering in the sunshine. His eyes lingered on Apollo for a long moment before darting to me, his eyebrows raising. “Temi.” He bowed.

I inclined my head. But his attention had already shifted back to Apollo. “I heard you had returned.”

Apollo tensed beside me, his gaze holding so much longing and desire and pain it ached at me. He nodded.

Hyacinth fluttered his fingers together. “I’m glad you made it safely.”

“You too,” Apollo whispered, his eyes shimmering.

Hyacinth cleared his throat and bowed to both of us again before sweeping out of the room, his robe tumbling through the air as he pulled the door shut behind him.

Apollo slumped as the latch clicked in place. Tears broke free, trailing down his cheeks, and he sucked in a shaky breath. “You see.”

“Oh, Apollo.” I drew him in against me and held him as he wept, wishing I had magic that could fix a broken heart.

When he stopped crying, he leaned back. “I’ve destroyed it all.”

“Would you take my advice if I gave you some?”

He brushed his shoulder over his cheeks. “I would.”

“See if you can find him alone and talk to him. He obviously still cares about you if he’s eschewing his schedule to come visit you first thing. Share with him what you shared with me.”

Apollo studied me for several heartbeats and then tucked my braids back. “All right, Temi. I’ll try.” He offered me a gentle smile. “I’m guessing you want to learn how to veil.”

I huffed but nodded. “That might be helpful.”

43

Epiphany

Father sat at the head of the table, ripping a piece of his bread, honey dripping onto his thumb with the motion. Silk fabric that suspended across the ceilings tangled together in a splash of colors as Hyacinth discussed political alignments—or the lack of them—with Emrin. But I remained silent, staring at my plate, not eating.

Everything tumbled through my mind, Valerian’s near-death, Temi’s prophecy, the war my brothers talked about as if they conversed about the weather, Val’s lips against mine.

“Epiphany,” Father said, drawing me out of my thoughts. “How was your trip?”

Color flooded my cheeks as Emrin and Hyacinth both shifted to face me as though they just realized another person sat at the table with them. “It was fine.”