Page 53 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

The woman’s crimson lips parted, her eyes heavy on Sappho for several heartbeats before she shifted to me. She tapped her free hand against her thigh. The breeze rippled her gown against it, the outline of a knife holster pressing against the fabric.

My heartbeat picked up, and I struggled against reaching out to touch my own weapons.

Hecate frowned and shifted back to Sappho. “It has been some time.”

“It has,” Sappho said.

“For what purpose have you called me? As you know, it’s Autumn. I’m presently in the underworld with Persephone for the season.”

Sappho nodded. “I hope she makes you happy.”

Hecate’s frown deepened. “Why did you summon me?”

“It was not for my sake.” She grasped my arm. “Meet Artemis, daughter of Leto. She is a deity but does not know who her father is.”

Hecate’s expression transformed, the snake slithering around her waist, its tail gliding along her collarbone. She walked closer to me. “Daughter of Leto?”

“Yes, that’s right,” I said. It surprised me when Sappho said my mother’s name, but I suppose she knew my brother and therefore would know of her with how interconnected she was with the gods and their lives.

Hecate stepped in close enough to me that the heat from her torch warmed my skin and the snake leaned out, darting its tongue in my direction. “We knew your mother.” She nodded towards Sappho. I fought the frown that wanted to press into my face. So, Sappho had more knowledge than she’d let on. Though it didn’t surprise me, it still annoyed me. “She was a powerful priestess. Always deeply involved with the gods. Most mortals”—Hecate’s gaze turned to Sappho once more, before speaking—“are too afraid to get as deep as she was.”

“You knew her well?” I whispered.

She nodded and ran a finger down the back of the snake. “I know a piece of your prophecy as well.”

I gasped. “You do?”

“Yes, because your mother once told me I shared some features her future daughter would have.”

“What are they?”

She lifted her face to the sky, her long hair trailing out in the wind. “The dark side of the moon is one thing I am the goddess of.” She smiled. “And you are the goddess of the moon itself.”

I gasped. “I am?”

My mouth gaped. Goddess of the moon. That was… that was a sky deity. That was tremendous, the role of the highest of gods. The weight of that crashed into me like an icy wave. I wasn’t just divine. I apparently had as elevated of a position as my brother and even Zeus himself. Shit. That complicated everything. If I was some mid-level deity, others might not look my way. But a sky goddess? That was going to draw attention… a lot of it.

“That is your prophesied role when you ascend. Twin to your brother’s sun. Your mother knew this. And she was aware of the cost of getting involved with gods.”

My voice broke, and I crossed my arms, rubbing at the goosebumps that had risen over my flesh. “Her death.”

“Yes,” Hecate whispered, so close to me that the warm, spicy smell of her filled my senses. The snake settled against her shoulder, and she trailed a finger over its scales. “Do you know what I am the primary goddess of?”

“I’m afraid not.”

She smiled gently. “That’s all right. I’m not a terribly popular deity, nor do I try to become one. Few worship me. But it’s no burden to me to lack renown.” She turned her head towards Sappho for a heartbeat. “I never longed to have the center of attention.” She shifted back in my direction. “I only ever desired a few intimate companions who truly knew me and accepted me for who I am. You see, I intimidate many.”

“Because of what you rule over?”

She nodded, and the snake looped across her shoulders, tangling down her arm. “Yes. I oversee many things that mortals and gods alike don’t want to look at too closely.”

“Such as what?”

“Night, for one thing. Dark magic. But primarily”—she took a deep breath, her posture straightening, an ebony color flashing over her eyes like spilled ink—“I’m the goddess over death.”

The way she said the last word sent a chill down my spine, but my voice came even. I had spent my childhood learning how to hide emotions from gods, after all. “Like Hades?”

She chuckled. “No. He guards the underworld. I can pierce the veil of the afterlife and communicate with the dead.”