Cassandra and Apollo

Chapter 2

After three days without seeing him, Cassandra had begun to think she'd dreamed the whole thing. Meeting the god at the temple steps, extracting his oath, tasting golden blood...

Could it have been a heat-borne dream? Her unconscious mind reflecting on her upcoming dedication ceremony?

As the sun began to set on the third day, she caught a few rays of yellow light from the corner of her eye. She'd strayed into the surrounding forest and, as a result, was late returning to the temple. Still, the mountainside was nearly deserted, and no Trojan would dare break the peace of the god's mountain. She felt safe.

"Greetings, Cassandra."

It was the same painfully beautiful face, the same carved stone body, and yet, he looked completely altered. He wore a traveler's cloak over his tunic, which dulled the burnished glow of his skin. The halo of gold around his face turned a muted wheat, its waves brushing the fine cut of his jaw. Her eyes no longer stung as she stared, though she still tried not to.

She knelt at his feet, bowed her head dutifully.

He sat before her, resting his cheek against the heel of his palm and eyeing her with amusement.

"Will you do that every time you see me, do you think?" he asked softly, with just a hint of humor. This voice was low and resonating as before, but sweeter somehow.

Lifting her eyes to his, she ventured a smile and replied, "If you wish it, Apollo." She felt dizzy with courage, marveling at her own boldness.

His answering grin was like a thousand daybreaks, his shine flaring high for a moment before subduing again.

"Very good," he said. His eyes were deeper now, like autumn honey.

They talked for a long time, until the moon herself was far away on the horizon and the stars yawned their light. He told her about the exotic lands he'd visited and the strange mortals he'd met along the way. He told her about his family, too, like his fiercely independent sister and his trickster little brother. She consumed his every word like ambrosia, asking questions like bowled hands begging for seconds.

She talked, too. Of the tedium of court, the endless droning of coddled princes and princesses. When she spoke of her brother, Hector, the god stiffened. What's wrong, she'd asked, but he merely changed the subject.

He asked about her pastimes, interests. He'd seen her reading.

"That's an unusual ability for a woman."

"My sisters think it's unseemly," she knotted her hands in her lap.

An almost imperceptible movement of his brows, a frown. She might have missed it but for her careful study of his features.

"Those who cannot shine console themselves by dimming others."

Hector had said that to her, once. Oh, how she missed him already.

After a time, she stopped worrying about the cold reception awaiting her back at the temple. The priestess and adepts were her father's subjects still, and so they'd be severely punished if she were to disappear. Doubtless they'd send a search party for her in the morning, but, for the moment, they'd stew in their fret and sour against her for it. Still, she was no more popular in the temple than she had been at court. She didn't care, never having been a great fan of idle chatter or fickle friendships.

Besides, she was perfectly fine. Better than that, even, for she was god-entrusted now. He'd taken an unbreakable vow never to hurt her. The oath was set high above the gods, so that even the mighty Zeus could not break it. In this way, she felt as if she controlled the awesome power of a god.