Page 90 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

“My future?” As interesting as what was in store for me might be personally, it was my kingdom’s destiny I worried about.

“Ah, but,”—Clothos blinked once, so gradually it was like she did the gesture for my sake rather than the need for it—“you have entangled yourself in events that are far greater than you or even your kingdom, mortal prince.”

“What would that be?”

She shifted, and her dress rippled slowly, as though the fabric was stiff though it appeared to be silk. “Your attachment to Apollo.”

My heart ached again. I still wasn’t sure what to do about our relationship. “That has changed some recently.”

“Has your devotion to him altered?”

I could feel the eyes of my guards and Len on me. I chewed on that for a long moment, my jaw tightening. Staring at Clothos, at her piercing gaze, I couldn’t lie. “No.”

“You have a decision to make about that, and it will determine your lifespan. You usher death forward with your choices.”

I dragged my thumb under the edge of the table, the gritty texture crackling against my nail. “No disrespect meant to you, but you sit here and tell a mortal I’ll die. Forgive me that it doesn’t surprise me.”

“Do you not wish that you could match your lover’s lifespan?”

“That was never a possibility,” I said, my voice coming more bitterly than I expected. “Once Apollo ascends, he will live forever. I’ve always known that.”

Clothos studied me for such a long moment that I struggled against squirming in my seat. That look she gave verged on terrifying. Flora twisted her hair around her fingers, and the wind whistled through the open windows. Finally, Clothos bobbed her head. “I can see the path your decision will take you. You will not live to see Apollo’s ascension if you remain on it.”

I blinked rapidly, like I could brush her words away. Was that because Apollo would stall his ascension, so he could live out life with me? And did I want that if so? Or… did she imply that my death would be soon? After all, he had vowed to his father to ascend by spring, and that season loomed only a few months away. A chill crept along my arms, causing the hair on them to rise. “May I ask you what this has to do with the war?”

Clotho’s lips turned down a small amount, not quite a frown, but nearly. “You are wiser than most mortals, yet you still focus on this moment as though it’s the only one that matters. This war is irrelevant.”

Feelings swept up through me. It certainly wasn’t irrelevant to the people in my kingdom, people whose lives and well-being and hope rested on my decisions. “What is relevant, then?”

“Your actions set in place multiple paths, mortal prince. Choose to abandon your relationship with Apollo, and you may avoid your own death.” She blinked twice, the motion slow and forced before speaking again. “I do not believe you will make that choice, however. You are not cowardly, and your link to Apollo is not a surface connection.”

Her shoulders rose, as if she took a breath, and it was then that I realized she hadn’t breathed the entire time we’d spoken so far. “Reconnect with Apollo, and you will die; your story will be a tragedy. But you also lay the foundation for a changing of the gods.”

I splayed my fingers out across the table. “Why would you even tell me this?”

Flora clasped her hands together, her mouth growing wide and upturned. “It’s a romantic death, though, Prince Hyacinth. Poetic really. You’d like the beauty in it,”—she shrugged—“if you lived to see it, which I supposed you wouldn’t. A pity that.”

Clothos had shifted towards Flora but turned back to face me. “I am honoring a request by disclosing your future. But do not ask me from whom as I cannot reveal that presently. I’ve given you a gift, Prince. And a curse. Something no mortal receives. A chance to choose to delay your death if you wish to.”

“But I have to give up Apollo for that?” My voice came as a whisper, and that’s when it hit me with full force. I would not give him up, even if I stared down my end. I was angry with him, yes. And he could never do what he’d done again. But losing him forever—that was a demise of a different kind.

But how quickly did I usher forward my death if I was with him? And I didn’t understand why Clothos would tell me this information. She cocked her head to the side. “You would have to give him up, yes. That is, if he and your companions make it safely out of Ansair. Debatable at the moment.”

I sucked in a breath, and the guards behind me shifted, their feet clattering against the stone. “They’re in trouble?”

“Some.” Clothos spoke slowly, as if she had all the time in the world. I suppose she did. “In nine hundred and eighty-seven out of one thousand paths, they get out of it.”

“There’s a chance they don’t?”

“Ah, Prince.” Clothos smiled, an expression that chilled me down to my soul. “There’s always a chance of anything. Even you outliving Apollo is a possibility, on some roads.”

Terror shook its way through me.

Apollo could only die if the spark holder—his father—killed him. And he was in Mt. Olympus… unless… Oh, gods. Could Zeus have traveled to Ansair? Perhaps Zeus had discovered our deceit and had enough. Apollo felt he rested on the edge of his father’s mercy and patience, as it were. If Zeus knew we’d chosen to rise against him, he might act against Apollo rather than risk his ascension. And I had sent him away, pushed him from my embrace, because of embarrassment and anger. It was nearly as bad as Apollo acting out of jealousy.

I jumped to my feet; the chair screeching over the stone. “Forgive me.” I bowed hastily to both of the women. “I fear I must go.”

Flora stood, but Clothos remained where she sat. She bobbed her head. “Your path solidifies, mortal prince. But you have the strength to see it through.”