A faint smile crossed his lips. “Penellaphe is a…good friend of my mother’s.” I frowned. “Penellaphe is a goddess.” “Yes.” He tucked an unruly wave behind my ear. “She is.” I stared up at him, confused. The Queen had named me. “And your nickname? Poppy? That’s because of your grandmother, too.” He laughed then, the sound rough under his breath. “Well, it’s more so due to my father. I overheard him once comparing my mother’s…temperament to that of a poppy.” A drier laugh left him then. “Unsurprisingly, it became her favorite flower.” “I don’t understand, Papa. How could her temperament be that
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