Page 11 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

Temi pushed the knife into her belt and withdrew a second one. “It doesn’t matter to me either way. I go for answers.”

“Is that what worries you, then?”

Temi’s lips pursed. “Yes. I’m anxious that I won’t like what I find. But I think I’d rather know than not.”

I nodded, an errant curl dancing along with the wind, and I brushed it behind my ear. “Maybe it will be good.”

Temi winced. “Yeah, I guess we just have to go on this trip and hope nothing goes wrong.”

“What are you worried about going wrong?”

“I wonder if I’ll regret finding out. I’ve lived almost nineteen years without knowing. Might it be wiser to leave it alone?”

I shifted towards her, pulling my knees up. “Let me say this.”

“All right?”

“If I asked you in reverse, do you think I should take a risk and tell Valerian how I feel, or should I just go on not knowing, wanting your honest opinion. What would you tell me?”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s unfair. You already know my answer.”

“Okay, then.”

“You’re a terrible friend.”

“I’m an excellent friend.”

She huffed a laugh but stretched her hand out, and I took it, curling my fingers alongside hers. Flowers fluttered in a breeze as the peaches of afternoon light whispered across the gardens. Temi sighed and rested her head on my shoulder.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go to the kitchen.”

She raised her face. “Why?”

“Well, we’re going to have an entire trip without cake. We should indulge now while we can.”

“Does pre-indulging in comfort cake work?”

“No idea, but we’re about to find out.”

She smirked but hopped off the bench, and we ambled into the palace and to the kitchen together. The staff bustled about. The fire made the stone-walled room, even with its tall ceilings, hot. Flour dusted through the air alongside tangy garlic and bright citrus.

Valerian’s mother strode up, her dark hair tucked beneath a scarf, her eyes wary as she bowed. “Your Highness. Are you in need of something?”

I bit my lip. “You don’t have to call me ‘Your Highness’.”

She winced.

“I just mean, Valerian and I are friends and—” I stopped speaking as her expression seemed to teeter between mortification and worry.

Temi’s gaze darted between the two of us. “We were hoping, if it’s not too much trouble, for some cake.”

Valerian’s mother nodded at her. “Of course. We have some in the pantry.” She bowed again and turned, her skirts whisking over the floor. She returned a moment later and handed a cloth-wrapped dish out. Her arms still held red scars from where she’d dropped boiling water over the summer, and my stomach twisted. Valerian worried about his mother but claimed she was too stubborn to step down from her position as head of the kitchen.

“Please let me know if you need anything more,” she said as she cast her eyes down.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

We strode together out into the hall, and I released a breath. “Gods, I’m an idiot, and she hates me.”