Page 12 of Prometheus' Priestess

He hadn’t spoken to Prometheussince.

“If we give her the knowledge of the white fire and that’s how she chooses to teach the humans to alchemise fear, we may as well wipe them all out now and save Zeus the trouble,”Prometheus toldher.

Aphrodite might profess to be the Goddess of Love but she was nothing more than a manipulative witch who cared for no one but herself, he thought darkly. He’d walk through the halls of Hades before he let her get her way. And she well knew why.

“We will wait for Artemis. Then we will decide,” Athenadeclared.

Three days later, Artemis strode along the footpath towards Athena in a plain brown warrior tunic made of the finest-quality leather. It crossed over one shoulder and fit snugly to her small-busted torso before falling into pleated leather slits at the knees, allowing her freedom of movement. Across her back was slung a quiver laced with intricate gold detailing of cypress leaves and the sigils of the hunting dog, the stag, and deer − her hunting pack, Artemis called it. At her feet, two hounds bounded along to keep up with her long strides.

“Athena.” The sisters greeted and clasped forearms in the old ways of the warrior. Artemis’ hunting abilities had made her, on occasion, useful to Athena’s plans and she was one of the best advisers the Goddess of Wisdom knew, provided she wasn’t offering counsel on someone who had disrespected the family. Then she tended to be somewhat ... ferocious.

Athena had decided it was best for them to meet alone, for while Prometheus and Artemis had no quarrel the same could not be said of her two sisters. Last Athena had heard, Artemis still pined for her mortal beloved that Aphrodite had killed, and there was a nasty rumour Artemis was responsible for the death of Aphrodite’s adopted son, Adonis, in turn. Not that she would ever admit to it, but then you wouldn’t. Aphrodite had a cruel streak if you crossed her that would cause even a rabid wolf to whelp in pain. Far better to let rumours go unconfirmed and to keep those two as far away from one another as possible.

“Come, let us walk in the gardens.” Athena knew how much Artemis hated sitting still when she could roam. And the gardens were fields of vast land, untouched for kilometres except by Athena’s trusted Guard that maintained the property. The rolling hills were expansive, dipping with crevices in some areas, providing spectacular views of Athens in others. Artemis’ hounds ran ahead as she shot arrows for them to chase.

“Those are fine quality,” Athena remarked. “A gift from Hephaestus, like the quiver?”

“Indeed. Aphrodite’s husband was most generous.” Artemis smirked, and Athena got the impression he would have made the arrows for Artemis after news of Adonis’ death and his wife’s sorrow. Spite, it seemed, was a trait he shared with his wife.

Instead, Athena commented, “Those better not hit any of my horses.”

“When have you ever known me to be so careless?” Artemis took the arrow from one of her hounds and shot it again. The hounds bounded off playfully, racing one another, tongues whipping back as they both fought against one of the wind goddesses.

“Aren’t you concerned that the arrows are going to break in their teeth?”

Artemis snorted. “I’m more worried about them slobbering onthem.”

“Why do itthen?”

“It keeps them entertained. The thrill of the hunt, the hum of blood in your veins, the chase, the added hint of danger ... it is not so easy to replicate once you’ve had a taste of it. You and I both know it. The dogs know ittoo.”

“But the arrows don’t harm them. They’re already embedded into something by the time the dogs get there,” Athena pointed out.

“Ah, but can they catch it before it lands, at the right angle so as not to gethurt?”

“You’ve trained them to be thatfast?”

“Cross-breeding for skill wasn’t the stupidest idea the humans came up with. A shame a few of them had to ruin it,” Artemis replied.

A tendril of dark hair, the colour of walnut, escaped from her bun and whipped around her face as the wind goddesses came to play amongst the sisters too. Athena and Artemis smiled at one another and let the winds have their fun. It was no use telling them to shoo; they would only persist harder. It was always worth having the elementals on your side as Athena repeatedly told anyone who would listen.

“I have a feeling you didn’t ask me all the way here to talk about cross-breeding, dearsister.”

“You would be right. But it would be wise for us to wait until the sounds of our words that travel on the winds are only heard by us.”

Taking note of her sister’s meaning, Artemis released five arrows in immediate succession, directly up into the sky, delighting the wind goddesses and hounds alike with the chaos of it all. Suitably distracted, and moving away with every dance between the arrows and the hounds, Athena spoke quickly.

“We have an issue that requires your assistance, but it is to be kept for your ears only.”

Artemis’ jaw clenched; like Prometheus, she was known to dislike getting involved in politics. Athena said softly, “It involves a priestess you may have a soft spot for.” Artemis’ eyes, matching her hair, snapped to hers. “Show me.”

“Ihate to say it, but the she-devil is right.”

Artemis referenced Aphrodite once they were back in thewar rooms and she’d been briefed, oathed and sworn tosecrecy.

“Not words I expected to come out of your mouth,” Athena said dryly as she walked to the chaises, retrieved two crystal goblets, and poured wine into them from a small pewter jug that had been left by one of the nymph attendants. Handing Artemis a glass as she retook her seat at the other end of the war table, Athena let her sister continue.

“Not words I often have need to say. But the priestess has left Paris on an instinct humans now callintuition.”

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