Page 59 of Prometheus' Priestess

“Look, you know how human belief works now. Their world is a reflection of them. Why else would Prometheus abandon you if you hadn’t already abandoned yourself? It’s time to come home, priestess.”

Amara went to open her mouth and closed it again. Then repeated the action, making an excellent impersonation of a goldfish.She knew he was baiting her, trying to get her to agree to come with him. He was using her doubt against her … wasn’the?

Or was Hermesright?

She knew he was. About the humans at least. Thatwashow they operated. Had the abandonment wound, that still felt raw and painful even now she understood it, caused Prometheus to leave her? Had he really been trying to protect her like she thought? Like he said? Had he really been dragged away? Or had it all been a ploy to complete the goddesses’ plan? Were they all laughing at her now, back in Olympus? Had Prometheus really been in on it the whole time? Was this the final blow to make her believe in love in order to do their bidding? Because that is what the gods did, she acknowledged. Whatever it took to make sure they got the outcome they wanted was never too much trouble ... forthem.

Had she gotten it so very wrong? Or was Hermes playing hernow?

“You’ll only know if you get the chance to confront him,” Hermes said, reading Amara’s face like a book. When she blushed, but still made no move to come with him, Hermes delivered the line that tied her hands no matter the answer to herconundrum.

“Trust me, priestess. You aren’t going to want to be late for thesentencing.”

“Whose?” shedemanded.

Hers or Prometheus’? Who had Zeus chosen topunish?

“You’ll have to come withme.”

CHAPTER XXXI

The sentencing was held in the auditorium, a large, draughty oval room found at the top of Mount Olympus. Held up by large white pillars, the dome had walls but no door, so the mountain breeze swirled through it until Amara could see dust spiralling in the sunlight. As she walked forward, her sandals slapped gently against the marble flooring of the purest white laced with onyx streaks. The sound of her feet bounced off the walls, painted in a blood red around her. Rumour had it Zeus had insisted on the colour in case any blood needed to be shed. Given the frostiness breathing through the auditorium, which had nothing to do with the weather, she could see why.

Ahead of her, there were twelve thrones in a semicircle, each carved from marble that matched the floor and the columns around them. Of course the two closest to the middle were the largest, one slightly bigger than the other still, to represent the King and Queen. Actually, now Amara came to look at it, her eyes sharpening as they squinted, she could see that each chair was sculpted and adorned according to eachowner.

To the left of Zeus’ throne was one that rose up on a wave − Poseidon. Next to his was Demeter’s with maize growing up the throne back. Beside her was Apollo’s, a bow and arrow carved into either arm and the sun above his seat. Next to his chair was his twin sister’s, Artemis’, who also had the bow and arrow, as well as the moon, engraved on hers. Beside that was Athena ... an owl sculpture carved into one arm of her chair, as if it perched there forever.

On the other side, to the right of Hera’s throne was Ares ... bloodshed and war scenes etched into his. Beside him, Hephaestus had flames licking up his chair. Next to his was his wife’s, Aphrodite’s, adorned with roses. Next to hers was Hermes, his staff resting against his chair. And finally there was Dionysus’, which had the markings of a grapevine growing over it.

Hermes’ words echoed in Amara’s mind as she continued walking forward towards the semicircle of thrones. “Rumour on the Greek grapevine though is that Prometheus has claimed you as hisown.”

She gulped. Seven of the chairs were occupied.

She named them in her head as she took deep, steadying breaths and continued to stare straight ahead.Dionysus, Aphrodite, Ares, Hera, Zeus, Artemis, and Athena.

Hermes walked beside her until she came level with three women who were huddled to the right of her. She could see that they had someone bound on their knees in chains. When one of them tugged on the chains to force their captive’s head back, Amara gasped.

So, it was not to be hersentencing.

Relief and bile rose to the back of her throat as gratitude collided with the grotesque image of Prometheus’ face. He’d had one eye gouged out and venomous claw marks down the right side of his face that had penetrated bone. She went to take a step towards him but Hermes’ hand on her forearm stopped her. It was only then, when he shook his head, his eyes bowed, that she realised Prometheus was being held by the Gorgons. She immediately averted her gaze and heard them cackle.

Hermes took his seat and Amara was left standing on her own.

“The priestess herself,” Zeus rumbled. “So this is who one of my oldest friends would betray mefor.”

This was not a goodstart.

She was careful not to look any of them in the eye, particularly her patron goddesses, for fear they saw her seething hatred for them in her eyes. Instead, she dropped into a bow so deep she may as well have been sitting on the floor.

“Rise, child,” Hera commanded coldly.

Hera was swathed in layers of blue and green silks. Her hair was pulled back under a heavy gold crown that was encrusted with teardrop emeralds and sapphires. The veil was thinly woven gold, so thin that it looked like the Queen was enshrouded in gold dust.

Next to her, Zeus wore a plain white toga that wrapped over one shoulder and around his groin, leaving his scarred torso otherwise bare. Each scar was a proud battle wound that depicted how Zeus had won his seat and the white of his toga was so bright it dazzled.

They were a formidable pair.

“Well it appears everyone is here, unless the Moirai deign to join us?” Hera asked haughtily, her voice high and cold as it echoed throughout the chamber.

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