Hades Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page A

heavily embroidered jackets. I was glad that we still kept to this custom, for it gave me ample opportunity to tease and tantalise, watching all the while the lust for power (and for me, of course!) flare in the eyes of men.
    Sorry creatures that they were. I teased and I flaunted, but it was done only for trivial amusement. I hadalready secretly chosen my husband—my comely sixteen-year-old cousin Melanthus—and in that winter of my fifteenth year I fully intended to drive him to such distraction that he would not hesitate to take my virginity the instant I offered it to him. Then we could use my swelling belly to persuade my father that Melanthus was a good enough catch for me (it was irksome that he was but a third son, for I knew my father would despise that, but if I became with child, then my father would surely be so delighted he would deny me nothing).
    My life was full, it was good, it boded nothing but blessings.
    That is, it boded nothing but blessings until Hera spoke to me.
    Hera, most lovely of goddesses and queen to Zeus, had been my personal deity ever since I was old enough to choose one. To be sure, the power of the gods was a faint thing—Tavia said that while the gods were now all but dead, many generations ago they had intervened in most aspects of mortal life, and even had the power to stop the sun and raise the seas—but Hera, at least, was a comforting if distant presence in my life. To her I confided all my secrets in the dark womb of the night when Tavia lay snoring at the foot of my bed: to her I recounted all the happinesses and intrigues of my day; to her I prayed, I begged, that Melanthus should be mine, hopefully without any significant delay.
    She did not reply, of course, although occasionally I thought I felt such a soothing presence beside me that I believed her truly with me. She was my friend, and so I presume it was as such that, even as weak as she was, Hera made that single stupendous effort to warn me of what approached.
    It was a night like any other. Tavia had made sure of my comfort, and had then lain down on her pallet at the foot of my bed.
    Snores had soon issued forth from that darkness beyond my feet. (The snores once had irritated me beyond measure, until I realised that they informed me of when the night was mine to confide in Hera or wander in my dreams as intimately as I wanted.)
    I lay quietly, a smile on my face, my hands on my breasts as I thought of Melanthus. Tavia—and her snoring—would have to find somewhere else to sleep once he was my husband.
    At that thought my smile increased, and I wriggled in my bed, a vague, unknowable wanting deep within my body making me restless. I was about to whisper Melanthus’ name as a mantra (the more I spoke it, then surely the sooner he would be mine) when suddenly…suddenly…I was no longer within my bed, nor even within my home.
    Instead I stood on a blasted rock, the sea churning about me, drenching me with its waters. Above me wheeled immense black birds, screaming and shrieking so horribly I put my hands to my ears and cried out in terror.
    “Beware!” spoke a voice, and I spun about, almost losing my footing on the treacherous rock.
    A woman, wraith-like, so insubstantial the waves cascaded straight through her, stood a pace away at the very edge of the rock.
    “Who are you?” I whispered.
    The wraith reached out a hand, and as it neared my face her flesh solidified so that warm flesh touched my cheek, and I knew instantly who it was.
    “Hera!”
    “Beloved child,” she said, and I saw in her newly fleshed face that her lovely eyes were awash with tears. “Beloved child, beware, for you have a great enemy.”
    I put my hand over hers, and pressed it more deeply against my cheek. “Hera,” I whispered, so overcomewith her presence I paid virtually no heed to her words. “Hera…”
    “A great enemy. The Horned One. Asterion. He will hunt you down one day, Cornelia. Be prepared.”
    “Asterion?” The name