Page 99 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

“How do we move forward, though? How do I look at him knowing what he did?”

Father smiled, a gentleness permeating his features that he reserved for Emrin and Epiphany and me. And for Mother. They had loved each other like no other couple I’d ever seen. “You start with a conversation, Cyn. Love isn’t just founded on respect, but also on realizing your partner is a flawed person.” He laughed. “Or god, however it may be. If I could list off all the stupid, thoughtless things I did to your mother over the course of our marriage…” He scratched his forehead. “Well, we’d be here a long while. We didn’t have a perfect relationship, but we worked to make it a good one.”

I nodded, but I needed time to think. I wished to share with him what Clothos had said. If I reconnected with Apollo, I ushered forth my death.

But I knew if I told him that, it would give him pause.

And something in me didn’t want that.

I wanted his approval of our relationship.

Because what he said was true, regardless of everything, I was still in love with Apollo. Something in him sparked some deep, secret place within myself. Like he held a piece of my soul and had gifted me a portion of his. There was no other person on earth I’d met that I felt that connection with. And being away from him had me emotionally wrung out. I wanted nothing more than to find a way forward together. But was I willing to pay the cost that may come with that? I swallowed. Hard.

Father clapped my shoulder. “You look like you need an opportunity to rest.”

I huffed a breath but nodded. “Perhaps you’re right.” I hugged him again, felt the steadiness of his presence, and then retreated from the room, the weight of my thoughts heavier than the crown I wore.

41

Valerian

My horse flicked her ear and stomped hard enough to stir dust up in the road, and I reached out and scratched her mane. An overcast sky brought a touch of a cool breeze that ruffled everyone’s hair around.

“It’s good weather for traveling,” I said to Epiphany, who trotted alongside me. “Should make our return trip home easy.”

She met my gaze for a heartbeat before nodding. “I hope that’s so.” And then she clicked her tongue and guided Meadow up farther ahead in the group.

Theos cut his eyes to me and frowned. I forced my expression to remain neutral. The guards’ disapproval of whatever they perceived going on between Epiphany and me—what had spurred her to leave the stables angry after speaking with me alone and right into Hera’s hands—hung thick as molasses in the air between us all.

Epiphany reached Temi, who sat atop Arion. His coat reflected aqua under the sun that peeked out behind gray clouds. Gods, would I love to see how fast he could go at full speed. I wondered if Temi would allow him to sire and if he would be compatible with our mares. I wasn’t even sure the creatures could birth whatever would result. Perhaps it wasn’t worth the risk.

Temi said something to Epiphany, and she laughed.

Arion provided a pleasant distraction from the fact that Pip was—once again—avoiding me. I bit the inside of my cheek as a breeze whipped through the evergreen trees, rustling their needles together.

When that knife had struck me, it was Epiphany that came to mind first—worry that I might drop her, fear for her life rather than my own—and then the pain took over, the struggle to breathe. But when Poseidon’s magic had swept through me, bringing the world into clarity, Epiphany was the foremost thought for me once again.

I had believed that I could stand back and watch her marry someone else. Perhaps, after she’d left, I would find someone that fit my station.

But as my blood had flooded the stone of that cave and my soul seeped its way out, my greatest regret was standing back.

And I didn’t care anymore. Nothing brought me joy like seeing her smile; nothing improved my day like a few minutes spent with her. And if I had used my life to spare hers, I would have done so gladly. We’d both nearly died. We could have lost everything. I might have lost her. And all the conventions, the expectations, the cultural beliefs didn’t matter to me anymore. I loved her down to my marrow. Maybe that was enough. Maybe that mattered more than my station in life. Epiphany told me a person’s worth should be judged based on their actions. And, without pausing to consider it, I was willing to forfeit my life if it meant her safety. Perhaps that made me worthy after all.

Marriage was an impossibility between us.

For now, anyway.

With the country already facing political upheaval.

But maybe…

Maybe in the future—if things went well for Niria and the public had more room for grace for an unusual situation—perhaps then we could.

I would try at least.

But that came back to the issue at hand. Epiphany had scarcely made eye contact with me since we’d left Lesbos. Her answers to my questions were one or two words and spoken quickly before she moved away from me.

And with the godsdamn guards hovering around her and watching me like I was a prisoner that they transported rather than a trusted part of the group, I couldn’t find out why.