“True. It’s amazing how perspectives change when something affects you personally,” I agreed. “Athena and Arachne is an interesting story…a story of divine justice and one that perfectly illustrates how petty the gods can be.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Go on.”
“One time, long ago, a mortal named Arachne found her skills at weaving to be the best in the land. She boasted about them to those around her and even went so far as to say that she could outweave the gods themselves. Athena caught wind of this boast. This is the dreaded hubris, an affront that rarely goes unnoticed by the gods… it is when a mortal challenges or boasts about a god. It has never gone unpunished. In this case, Athena then challenged Arachne to a weaving contest. They both worked throughout the night on beautiful tapestries. But in the morning, it was clear that Arachne was the winner. Her tapestry was perfect. But Athena’s pride could not allow her to admit it, so in her rage, she turned Arachne into a spider, doomed to weave for all of eternity.”
“That seems a little harsh,” Brennan answered slowly. “And that’s how spiders came to be?”
I nodded. “Never underestimate the gods, Brennan. Not ever.”
“Point taken,” he answered. “So how does this hubris affect us in this challenge?”
I turned back to Circes and Branwyn. “Branwyn, apparently someone in your village has boasted about her magic, declaring it to be superior to even my mother’s. It did not go unheard. Zeus himself heard the words. Brennan and I are tasked with testing this girl’s magic and then meting out the appropriate punishment for her boasts.”
“Hubris,” Brennan said slowly.
“Hubris,” I confirmed with a solemn nod.
I could tell I wasn’t going to like this game in the slightest. For as long as I could remember, I had tried to live my life as though I wasn’t a goddess. And now, unless I could prove to the Olympians that I had the skill required to be one, I would die. The handling my abilities portion wouldn’t be so difficult. It would be the ‘acting like a goddess’ parts. They were at times cold-hearted and ruthless, two things I tried hard not to be. Sighing, I turned back to Branwyn.
“Who would it have been?”
Branwyn looked stricken. “I’m not certain, princess. I don’t know for sure who would have made such a wild boast.”
But I could see on her face that she had a good idea.
“You have a good feeling who it is,” I said firmly. “I need a name.”
Branwyn stared at her hands. “Kenna.”
“Thank you. Can you retrieve Kenna from her bed and bring her to me?”
“Now, princess?” Branwyn’s gaze shot upward and met mine.
“Now.”
Without a backward glance, Branwyn turned and left the bonfire. An owl hooted softly in the near distance and the night breeze rustled the grass around them. Moisture hung in the air, heavy and chilly, causing me to shiver slightly.
“Are you cold?” Brennan asked, moving to me instantly and wrapping his arm around my shoulders. His warmth was truly like the sun and I melted into his warm body as we waited for Branwyn to return. Circes stared sightlessly into the fire, not saying a word.
“What do you think?” Brennan asked softly, his lips very close to my ear.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I don’t see that we can win.”
“Why would you say that?” he asked in surprise. “We have as much a chance as our fathers do, don’t we?”
“We’re the ones being tested,” I reminded him wearily. “Not them.”
“True,” he agreed. “But we have the most to lose. That makes us hungrier.”
“True,” I answered with a smile. Brennan was such an optimist. He saw the good in every situation. Sometimes, it was refreshing. Sometimes, it was annoying. Tonight, it was comforting.
Movement caught my eye and I looked up to find Branwyn entering the circle with a young woman. Kenna had a thick brown braid hanging down her back and was dressed in a white nightdress. The look on her face was set and mulish. I could see that Branwyn had explained the situation.
“We’re up,” I said to Brennan. He released me, his warm arms sliding from my shoulders. I instantly missed his warmth, but turned my attention to the two women approaching us.
“Kenna?” I asked, keeping my voice as even as I could. She had not personally affronted me. The Olympians were the ones who had paper-thin skin when it came to these things. Not me. But here I was, doling out an “appropriate” punishment. And what in the world would an appropriate punishment for a ridiculous offense be?
They stopped directly in front of me and I watched the girl. She wasn’t sorry for what she’d said. I could see that.
“Do you admit that you boasted of your magic, that you said yours was better than even that of the gods?”
Kenna stuck out her chin, her voice ringing through the night as her gaze met mine unflinchingly.
“Yes.”
“You have no remorse?” I raised an eyebrow.
“No, princess. I would feel sorry for it if I had lied. But I did not. It is the truth.”
“While I personally admire your spirit, most of the gods would not. It is never wise to threaten them in any way,” I told her. “And to make sure your punishment fits the crime, we must first decide if your magic is in fact as good as you say. My mother is currently occupied and unable to be here. But you can match your magic against mine.”
Kenna’s gaze flew to my face, startled. It was clear she hadn’t expected to be tested and truly, it was a spur of the moment decision. It suddenly seemed the appropriate move to make. I wasn’t really sure what difference the outcome would make. And there was no way that a mortal would have stronger magic that me. It just wasn’t possible.
“Yes, princess,” she bowed her head slightly, still unafraid. I felt the slightest stirrings of resentment in my belly. This mortal truly believed she was better than I was? Besides having the blood of gods coursing through my veins, I had been alive for a thousand years.
“Careful, Emmie,” Brennan cautioned, reading my thoughts. “You’re sounding a little like them.” He was right and I quickly tried to shake such thoughts from my head. The last thing I wanted to do was become like the Olympians. They were arrogant and shallow, for the most part. I didn’t want that for myself.