Lovers?
A twinge of regret at interrupting such an intimate moment struck Athene. But she had come a long way to find Kirke.
Athene cleared her throat.
Kalypso choked down a yelp and both Nymphs abruptly lurched into sitting positions, gaping at her.
Kirke’s wide-eyed expression calmed first, and she shook her head as if to physically dislodge the shock. “Damn it, Athene …”
Athene wanted to say something, but forming words still felt like pushing boulders up a mountain, and all she managed was a dour shake of her own head.
Perhaps Kirke saw more than enough writ plain upon her visage, for she cast a glance at Kalypso, then rose, grabbing her sandals and straightening her khiton. With one hand upon Athene’s arm, she guided her out to gardens in the back of the house. It seemed Kalypso tried her hand at growing a variety of herbs and spices. It boggled the mind that any Titan, even a Nymph, could spend her time on such mundane pursuits.
After strapping her footwear on, Kirke led Athene among the plants that danced in the wind, their fragrant, acrid scents unperturbed by the weight that fell upon people. Athene expected Kirke to pause there, but the woman opened a back gate in the wall and led her up the path onto the mountain.
From here, she caught a better view of Prometheus’s Aviary rising from the peak. What a splendid view it must offer. Perhaps, from up there, one could see clear back to Brizo’s temple upon Atlantis.
“My great-uncle’s not here,” Kirke said, as if Athene had asked. “He’s gone to Atlantis on business to see my mother. He won’t mind if we sit in the tower.”
The long walk offered a fair excuse to delay having to explain her presence, so Athene held her peace and let Kirke guide her to the tower. It too, was unlocked, as if Prometheus could not have conceived of anyone trespassing here. Inside, they found a fountain nigh overflowing with flamingos, while a host of other rainbow-colored birds rested upon a network of poles over their heads.
Kirke sat upon the fountain’s lip and pulled Athene down to join her. “What so vexes you, Athene?”
She didn’t call her sister, Athene noted. Kirke never did. Perhaps she would have thought it presumptuous. Perhaps she didn’t even think of Athene as a sister. Though both daughters of Hekate, Athene was the child of mighty Zeus himself, and an Olympian. Kirke was a mere Nymph, sired by Helios.
For a time, Athene watched a peacock strut about the tower, haughty and proud of his vibrant beauty.
“I … need …” The words stuck in her throat.
Taking Athene’s hand in her own, Kirke offered a reassuring squeeze. “What do you need? You didn’t leave Kronion and come to this little island for no reason.”
“I …”
Kirke sighed. “Hmm. You’re one of a handful of Titan women in the whole of the World who doesn’t get called a Nymph, Athene. One of the most powerful people in the breadth of Elládos, and Men worship you as a living god.” Her half-sister shrugged, as if to soften to rebuke. “Can any of this really prove so dire?”
Athene pulled her hand away and fixed Kirke with a hard look. “One of my fellow Olympians sent for me not so long ago.” Pain caused her to speak. “Hephaistos called me to Korinth, claiming he wished to discuss the spread of Nectar in his polis.” Kirke frowned, but said naught, so Athene continued. Now she had begun, the words felt ripped from her. “I thought he sought my counsel in handling that blight. It was, however, a ruse, for his clumsy attempts at … wooing the daughter of Zeus. Perhaps he thought marriage to me would enhance his position on Olympus.”
Now the Nymph’s gaze turned darker. “Not something you wanted, I assume.”
Athene favored her with a disgusted look. As if she sought any husband, much less one like him. “Of course not. I told him I’d sooner march into Tartarus and marry some horror from the black depths.”
Kirke chortled. “I wish I’d seen the look upon his face.”
Athene grimaced. “He let it be.” A shudder built inside her chest. “At least until I slept … and woke to find myself …” Her grip upon the fountain’s edge tightened. “I found myself bound in orichalcum. It seems my body was more his desire than any union in marriage.”
For a brief moment, her half-sister stared at her, tears beginning to glisten in her eyes, though Athene had never been able to shed them for herself. Then Kirke drew her into an embrace. “Go to Zeus. Your father will castrate the fucking bastard. He’d have him flayed and spread his entrails from Kronion to Korinth. Oh, the bards will sing of the fall of Hephaistos in the same breath as the damnation of Kronos!”
Athene scoffed, squirming free. “Shall I turn to my father to avenge myself? That, too, and announce my shame to Titans and Men alike? Behold wise, mighty Athene, used by Hephaistos like just another …” Athene suddenly realized who she was talking to.
“Another Nymph?” Kirke finished for her, voice like a whip.
“A mortal,” Athene said, though they both knew it wasn’t what she’d been about to say. There was no denying the stiffness that had jutted up between them.
Kirke sniffed, drying her eyes on the edge of her himation. “Hmm. Ah, well then, what do you want to do? You said avenge yourself, Athene, and I do understand that, and I’d do the same, I’m sure, but you have to know … Right? If you go down that path, it won’t be clean. Yeah, these things are never, ever clean, and people may learn of what he did to you anyway, not that I actually think the shame is yours, of course.” The woman frowned and wrung her hands. “Ah, sorry. I know I talk too much, sometimes. I spent a lot of my life alone, and
