Page 24 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

“Epiphany, please.”

“No.” My voice shook, but I lifted my chin. “Decide, Val. Face the world with me, and we’ll make it work. Or let me go altogether.”

The night had grown dark, and his features lay swallowed in evening shadows. He remained quiet for so long I wondered if he heard me, but then he finally spoke, his form sinking. “I guess it will have to be the latter.”

“Fine.” I snapped the word out and turned back to the path, my feet thudding against the dirt as twiggy vines whipped against my ankles, cutting them.

“Epiphany, wait!”

I kept my gaze ahead, ducking branches, my heart racing. My chest trembled as sobs racked through me. A branch popped out, hitting my cheek. It stung, and something warm dripped down my face. It might have been blood or just more tears. I wiped my sleeve over it and continued running.

Gods, I was an idiot. I’d been in love with Valerian for as long as I could remember. And now it was all for nothing. I’d lose what we had. My heart thundered with so much hurt that I sucked in air over my teeth to ease it, but it didn’t help.

I ran into the tent site, guards lifting their faces up and gaping at me. But I ignored them, flying into my tent and falling against my bedroll, sobs racking my body.

Temi dropped a folio she held and leaned down beside me. “Epiphany?”

“He said”—I choked on the words—“no.”

“Oh.” She whispered the word like a coo and wrapped her arms around me tight. “I’m so sorry.”

I heaved another cry into the rough cotton of my pillowcase. Temi rested her chin against my shoulder and smoothed her hand over my hair.

I wept until my chest and throat hurt and my cheeks puffed miserably. It felt like eternity had passed, a hundred nights of stars and moons and disappointments. Candlelight flickered our shadows onto the wall of the tent. Temi whispered, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“What is there to talk about? The man I’m in love with turned me down. And you were right. I shouldn’t have approached him at the beginning of the trip like this.”

She clenched her fingers into my shoulders. “No. You were brave. He’s an asshole.”

I sighed. “He’s not. He doesn’t want my reputation to suffer by being in a relationship with him.”

Temi remained quiet for a moment, her sandalwood smell permeating everything. She huffed. “Fine. I won’t call him names. But I will wish him hardships.” I gasped, but she continued, “May he always get the finicky horse. May his bread always be stale. May he step in every puddle that crosses his path.”

I laughed. “Stop, Temi, that’s terrible.”

She chuckled, and the warmth of her breath tickled my neck. “I am sorry, though.” She paused, and her voice took on a brightness again. “Do you know what the worst part of this happening on this trip is?”

“Umm”—I groaned—“the fact that we have to spend the next few months with him every single day, and it’s going to be extremely awkward and even more heartbreaking for me?”

“Nope.”

I rolled over to where I could face her. “What is it then?”

“There’s no cake to be had.”

I froze for a moment before laughing through another sob. “Oh, my gods, you’re right. What was I thinking?”

“You were thinking he’d be smart and say yes.”

I sunk down into the blankets. “Well, he didn’t, and now I have a broken heart and no comfort food.”

“You’re practically a walking tragedy.”

“I am.” I chuckled the words out and twined my fingers with hers. For several moments we remained quiet, our eyes directed at the tent’s peak where the candle swirled a circular band of gold about. I squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Temi.”

“Always,” she answered without breaking her gaze.

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