Page 107 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

Epiphany fumed, her breath coming like a hiss. “How could he?”

I pulled in closer to her. The gardens had shifted in the time we’d been gone. All the lush greens of late summer were long since tucked away and overtaken by muted grays and browns, flowers cut back for the season, trees empty of leaves. “I’m sure he just overreacted at the moment.”

“Cyn knows,” she said through her teeth and clenched her fingers tighter, “that Valerian cares a great deal about what he thinks, but he went and acted like an ass.”

I sighed. “We all have those moments. He’ll apologize.”

“Will they be able to move past it, though?”

I considered that as a single remaining leaf twisted on a limb and twirled its way to the ground. “I think so. Relationships have bumps. It’s part of it. They respect and care about each other too much to let one argument ruin everything.”

Epiphany swallowed, her curls tangling in the breeze. “I don’t know.” She kicked her head back. “Sorry. I’m focusing only on my own problems. How is Apollo?”

I leaned against my hands as they scraped over the wood of the bench. “Having his own issues.”

“Brothers are exhausting.”

I smiled.

But it was good to see Apollo. He had hesitated for a heartbeat when he saw the marks of the high deity on me, but then he’d pulled me in as though we were just Apollo and Temi, brother and sister. As though nothing had changed.

It was in his embrace that everything had solidified for me. It didn’t matter about our prophecy or our destinies. Our actions defined who we became.

There were wicked gods and compassionate ones.

We didn’t get to choose divinity.

But we could choose what we did with it.

An idea had formed in my mind of who I wanted to be. It wasn’t anything new, actually. It would just be me leaning into who I already was. Artemis, goddess of the moon and the hunt. Protector of women. Known for her bow and knife skills. I smiled. Yeah, if I had to be a goddess, that’s what I would become.

A gale swept through trembling tree branches, clattering them together. The few remaining leaves crackled like a cruel fist smashed them.

I shifted towards the stretching expanse of the mountains beyond the palace walls, where the wind thundered its way across the valley.

“Oh, gods,” I gasped.

“What?” Epiphany said.

“The wind. It’s moving from the West.”

Epiphany frowned. “Is that unusual?”

“Yes.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her up. “It only does that in the spring. Oh, shit. Zephyrus must be here. Epiphany, we have to warn our brothers.”

Color slipped away from her face, but she nodded, and we ran across the gardens, the grass squishing under our feet.

46

Apollo

Delon threw the discus at me, and I jumped, the brass of it banging my fingers. My feet hit the ground with a chuff.

I slung the disc farther down the field, its form spiraling and blurring. Hyacinth and Len ran towards it, Delon ahead of them. Watching Hyacinth run—his gaze ignoring the discus and lingering on me instead—caused my heart to flutter about in my chest.

He’d forgiven me.

I’d never ask for anything again. I’d love him for each moment, every breath I could manage. My looming ascension still posed issues, but I refused to feel hopeless about it. We’d make it work.