The goddess of time. Me. I’m still too stricken to take it in. My first, gut-level reaction is that I don’t want it. I can’t do this. Not this way. Not ever. Rhea must see it, because a small sob wells out of her, but she swallows the next one down. “It’s his gift to you,” she whispers. My face crumples as my shoulders heave even while I’m trying to hold it in for her sake. She has even more reason to grieve than I do. “I don’t want it,” I whisper. “Not like this.” “I know.” Her lips tremble so hard she has to press them together as she moves her hands from my face to my shoulders. “But you
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