Page 29 of Prometheus' Priestess

She considered him for a moment and then, for reasons she didn’t entirely understand herself, told him, “I felt the pull to come north. I couldn’t explain it to you if I tried. I don’t know if I can even explain it tomyself.”

“Like when the birds migrate.” Theo nodded.

Amara gave him another assessing look.

“I never consideredthat.”

“There’s lots of things humans do that can’t be explained, or justified.” His tone turned dark. His brows furrowed over his deep-set eyes that were focused once again on her. But there was a kindness behind them, so even though her pulse thundered in her throat, Amara decided to be brave and share why she was reallyhere.

“I don’t like beingalone.”

He waited patiently for her tocontinue.

“But I suppose that’s probably quite common for orphans.” She smiled sadly. “That’s why I was actually in the library today. I was looking at birth announcements. I thought maybe the urge to come here was somehow linked to discovering more about myheritage.”

She glanced at Theo, who was still watching her with those eyes that said they’d seen more pain than she would ever know.

“Stupid, Iknow.”

“No,” he shrugged, tentatively leaning back in his chair. “I getit.”

“Anyway, it was a complete waste of time. Nothing came of it. I should just go back to the parish and forget about it.” She sighed, shaking her head as two more loose curls escaped her bun. The fluorescent light above them continued to flicker. Amara wasn’t sure which of the two was more annoying.

It was a flippant comment she’d made, one they both knew she didn’t mean. The fire that had bought her all the way here wasn’t about to be snuffed out because she’d been subjected to abuse of some kind. No one determined enough to travel alone, on an instinct few would understand, was so flippant when turning their back on what could be considered a fatedhand.

“Parish?” heasked.

“I was left as a baby on a parish church doorstep in Paris,” she told him. “Father Michel practically raised me, even when I was in and out of foster homes. But I’d thought, seeing as I’d been wrapped in a tartan blanket that it must have been some clue ... some ... what?”

Theo was looking at her as if she’d just grown another head.

“What did yousay?”

Prometheus didn’t hear her response, his mind slow, stupid, unable to connect the dots until this moment. Until she’d literally spelled it out for him.

An unknown lineage. Paris. Parish church doorstep.

He’d found the priestess. Or, rather, she’d found him.

CHAPTER XIV

Athena watched a dot on a dusty-pink dawn horizon until it became bigger and bigger, stretching out like an ink dot on a page would. Soon, its form started to take shape and the tawny owl she had been expecting came into view, its wingspan magnificent. She watched its flight path, the sun glinting off its gold, bronzed, and occasional white feathers as it swept through the clouds until it landed, settled on her windowsill with a shake of its feathers and watched her with a patient expression, knowledge of what had happened in Edinburgh reflected in its eyes. Athena had learnt how to communicate with the birds through watching her father communicate with hiseagle.

Wrapping Amara in that tartan had been no coincidence. Of course the child would think it was a clue to her lineage. Humans were so desperate to belong somewhere that they would go to any lengths to seek out their heritage. Perhaps, Athena thought, that is what the Moirai had meant when they had said the fear of abandonment would serveher.

Athena had needed Amara in Caledonia, the ancient name they had given to Scotland when the Greeks had begun to migrate there centuries ago. They just hadn’t knownwhenshe would journey there or if she would indeed do it because she remembered the plan before she’d been incarnated on Earth. In Greek, Scot wasSkotia, meaning the absence of light. It was the best place for the priestess to put her alchemy skills to the test and show humanity a new way of being. One led by faith rather than fear. One led by alchemy. One ... led bylight.

The brutalisation had been a necessary evil, Athena continued to justify to herself. The mortal in question was no longer a problem. She’d dealt with him swiftly after he’d followed Amara to the library. A word with one of the wind goddesses and he’d simply “slipped” into traffic, bleary eyed with whisky on his breath. It was no real loss to humanity. Athena had no care why the mortal had done what he’d done, whether the man was emotionally damaged or not, like others − like Prometheus − perhaps might. All she cared about was that she had been made to look a fool. The human had laid his hands onherpriestess and she could squash him like a bug for his actions. So she did. It helped with the smart of failure, a little.

If it would not interfere with her task, Athena would have cast Amara in the Gorgon Medusa’s image. The serpents and cold-stone gaze had earned Medusa a reputation that ensured she’d never be taken advantage of again. Indeed, many human women had taken the lesson to heart, hardening themselves to further pain. It was necessary armour against the men who thought to take what was not theirs. But if she made Amara hideous to the humans, they wouldn’t listen to her teachings. Fickle creatures that they were, they were still so concerned with the aesthetics that cast them in the gods’ images, even though they no longer believed in those gods. So Amara had to remain beautiful, open, and vulnerable if they were to listen to her. Vulnerability was not something she often considered a useful tool. It set Athena’s teeth on edge.

As did the thought that Aphrodite had outwitted her. She hadn’t suspected her sister would manage to play Prometheus’ protective instincts to her advantage. To get him to be the one to break through Amara’s shell. It was an ingeniousmove.

Athena hadn’t dared approach him, because she knew telling him of the Moirai’s boon would have had him outraged that she had once again agreed to use humanity for her dirty work. He didn’t understand the cost of battle. None of them did.

She wondered what Aphrodite had told him ... or offered him. However she had managed it, given her history with him and the fact he was one of the most defiant, stubborn gods Athena knew − especially when he’d been made a fool of − was quite afeat.

“Fair play, Aphrodite,” Athena muttered under her breath. Because she hadn’t been able to get anyone close to Amara. Despite Hera’s ‘no meddling’ rule, it was usually easy enough for gods and goddesses to whisper things in the right human ears and get them to act ‘of their own accord’ when need be. But Amara had shunned anyone who had attempted to come near her. Anyone that was until Prometheus.

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