Page 64 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

My heart stuttered.

This was it.

No going back.

I swallowed hard. But I could never live with not facing it.

From the waves two stallions rose who towered twice the height of normal horses, their coats shades of indigos and emeralds that shifted in the sunlight like velvet. They tossed their heads and manes like seaweed slapped against their necks as their riders dismounted.

One was an elderly woman with long gray hair that she wore braided, her dark skin glimmering, her clothing made of rippling layers of aqua fabric.

The man at her side had warm brown skin and golden, glowing eyes. Silver light shimmered over his form. He wore a tunic that glittered like fish scales, and the fabric bunched up at his shoulder, held with a golden clasp. I shuddered and stepped back. Suddenly I wished Epiphany was there, that I hadn’t asked her to stay at the house. I could use a friend at the moment.

The man bowed. “Artemis?”

I swallowed. “I am she.”

He took another step forward but then paused like he thought better of it. “It has been a long time that I’ve hoped for this day.”

“Is that right?” I curled my fingers into fists. “You have an interesting way of showing that.”

The years of his absence sliced at me, cutting through my heart. I’d spent an entire childhood without so much as meeting him. He was a high god. He could have traveled to visit in a heartbeat. It would have taken no effort on his part at all, but he still shirked his duty, allowing me to wander the world without knowing who I was. And now he stood here saying he’d hoped for this day. The bastard.

He raised his chin. “You’re angry. That’s understandable.”

“You don’t get to say how I feel,” I hissed.

He chuckled. “You have your mother’s spirit. I’m glad about that.”

I clenched my teeth. “My mother, who you allowed Hera to kill.”

The gold of his eyes, so similar to Apollo’s when he removed his veil, flashed. “Leto knew the choices she made, and she was aware of the consequences. She had her reasons, and I hope you will give me the opportunity to explain.”

“Maybe, if you had bothered in the last nineteen years to—”

Sappho swept forward and bowed. “What gorgeous horses you have, Lord Poseidon.”

Poseidon kept his gaze on me for a moment before turning towards her and patting the side of one creature. “Thank you. I take a lot of pride in them.” He weaved his fingers into the stallion’s mane. “Horses are my creation. If you ask the wind gods, they will claim them, but they merely altered my existing idea.”

Waves crashed against the shore, and the animals stamped their hooves. “They’re lovely. You know how I adore the horses here at my home,” Sappho said.

“You take excellent care of your creatures.”

“I thank you.”

“May I speak with my daughter alone?”

Sappho hesitated a moment, her eyes darting to me. I nodded, and she bowed. “It’s an honor to have you on my island, Lord Poseidon. You are welcome anytime.”

“Thank you,” he said.

She grasped Phaon’s hand and walked up the sandy banks, meandering towards the house.

And then we stood facing each other, the gray-eyed woman who held the horse’s reins studying us both. Poseidon gestured to her. “First, let me introduce you to Amara, your guardian.”

“My guardian?”

He nodded. “She is the reason you’re veiled so firmly. She transferred her divine nature to you, to cover you.”