Page 114 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

Apollo inclined his head again and then turned to the sarcophagus. He draped the flowers over the top. Their floral scent blossomed into the air, making the entire grove sickly sweet. I didn’t know how he found so many blooms in so many colors and shades during the winter. And it seemed his hold was endless, the blossoms draping along the surface, piled a foot high over its form.

Apollo kneeled, removing his knapsack and pulled out a bag of gold, oils, jars of honey, and other bundles, and then he removed a scrap of paper, tucking it under a jug before rising, reaching his hand out and letting his fingers graze the edge of the stone right where the rays of sunlight reached the carving of my brother’s face.

He turned, dipping towards us again, and then pushed back through the crowd. Temi disentangled herself from Valerian and strode after him.

But I stood under that tree.

As the people cleared out.

And the sun rose.

And the world kept moving forward.

Father squeezed my arm, and Emrin hugged me before they both left.

Valerian walked up once the grounds stretched nearly empty again. “Are you okay, Pip?”

I gave my head a shake and stepped over to the offerings, pulling the paper out and letting it unfurl over my hands.

The edge rippled as though someone had torn it from a folio, and the paper dimpled in spots, like tears had landed on it and then dried.

Writing—Hyacinth’s writing—decorated the page.

It was a poem.

My hand trembled as wind swept over the parchment, making the words harder to read as the letters bobbed about, but I pushed through.

A new day dawns

Where I sit beneath the rays of your light

I raise my face

A heavy task

When I wear a crown

Laced with hopes and sorrows

But then you flood my senses

Sunshine

And gold

And laughter brighter than starlight

And I know

Like a flower, I’m ephemeral

I will not be here forever

But my love for you

Will last

Until the sun burns out