Page 112 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

“I can’t face today,” I whispered.

Valerian shifted, his skin gliding along the bare flesh of my back as he pulled me in tighter. The coarse sheets of his bed grazed my cheek, and my eyes pricked. But tears wouldn’t come. They hadn’t yet though I desperately wanted them to. But it was like my body froze in disbelief. This was just another nightmare. And I’d wake up from it soon.

Ashen light filtered in through a small window. Valerian’s apartment was a compact room with a bed barely big enough for the two of us to lay side-by-side, a stack of bows placed neatly against a wall, and three pairs of boots lined against a closet.

It was, perhaps, one of the favorite places I’d ever been.

I had spent much of the midnight hours of the last week there.

Valerian grazed his fingers through my hair. When he spoke, his voice came gruffly. “I wish I could have been there yesterday.”

I swallowed. “I wish you could have too.”

As the matriarch of the family, it fell to me to stand next to Hyacinth’s body as priests offered prayers for his soul the previous day. I shivered. It was still surreal that he was gone. That the last interaction we’d had was filled with anger and grief. That I would never get to talk to him, to apologize, to wrap myself in his jasmine-scented hug again.

Valerian turned away from me, like his thoughts followed the same path as mine, and he had to pull back from it. I shifted towards him, trailing my fingers over the hair on his chest. “He loved you, Val.”

Valerian closed his eyes, his dark lashes brushing his cheeks as tears slipped down his face, along his jaw. I wished I could join him in crying, but my body seemed unwilling to relent. I leaned up and kissed his temple, breathing against his skin.

But I didn’t know what to say.

Grief and regret wrapped us both up.

Valerian ran his calloused hand over my shoulder. “Who is making the offerings today?”

“I am.”

His fingers stilled. “You?”

I released a breath and tucked in closer to him, like I could hide from the day ahead. “Who else could? He wasn’t married, and I’m his closest female relative. It probably should be Apollo, but…”

Birds started their morning raucousness, trill notes sent out mournfully on crisp air. “Temi still hasn’t heard from him?”

“No.” I rose, my feet dropping to the cool wood of the floor. I’d have to leave before the palace woke and could catch me slipping out of the apartments. “She’s worried about him, has summoned him multiple times to no avail. But how do you find a god who doesn’t want to be reached?”

Valerian sat up as I snagged my dress off of a hook and pulled it on, tying the ribbons back in place. He stood and drew me into his arms. “I wish I could stand at your side today, be there to support you.”

I sighed and kissed him. “I wish you could do that as well.”

The air seemed to thicken around us, making it hard to breathe. We had gained so much in each other and lost just as much with the next heartbeat. It felt like all the sorrows of the world would drown us. I grabbed my slippers and pulled them on. “I have to go.”

Valerian bowed his head. “Epiphany?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

I tucked my arm around his waist, my fingers pressing into the gentle give of his flesh. “Why do you say that?”

His eyes glimmered in the low light. “Your last moments with Hyacinth were tainted because of me and—”

“That’s not true.” I clenched my grip tighter. “And Cyn wouldn’t want either of us to feel guilty like we both do. We should try to honor him by focusing on the good memories we have.”

Those hit me like a wave. Hyacinth’s brow furrowing as he glanced at me with concern. The older brother who had taught me to climb trees and—alongside Valerian—ride horses. The sibling who let me sleep in his bed when I’d had nightmares and scoffed at my tutors with me when I complained. And the person who—I hadn’t realized until he was gone—held our family together. He was who Father relied on, who Emrin looked up to, who I trusted with my vulnerabilities.

His loss left an aching gap between all of us. Publicly, we managed, accepted the gifts of condolences from the high lords, attended the ceremonies, followed through on the rituals.

But privately, we fell apart. And we didn’t have our cornerstone—Hyacinth—to lean on.