Athena's Child: A spellbinding retelling of one of Greek mythology's most important tales (The Grecian Women Trilogy) by Hannah Lynn

Author:Hannah Lynn [Lynn, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-30T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Dawn remained Danae’s preferred time of day. There was something about that hour before the world began to stir beneath her that filled her with a sense of calm. Sometimes, the day’s arrival was tranquil; a single birdsong followed by another, then another, until the air around her quivered with their music. At other times, the new day would roll in on a storm, thunderous and deep in its tremor, with dark clouds that masked the hour and rendered the songbirds mute. Sooner or later, though, no matter how bright or muted, the sun would always splinter into shards as it breached the horizon. And those first rays of light would reflect off the walls of her confines and remind her of her place in the world.

With dawn, came hope. Hope that this was the day her father saw sanity; the day he trusted her at her word and allowed her to leave this prison in which he had cast her. Hope that this was the day they discovered a bastard child on whom the Oracle’s prophecy could lay or, worst hope of all, that if her father’s prophecy were to come true, this was the day when her suitor would come and take her to freedom.

Her tower offered no windows from which to glimpse the outside world. Only air and light from the open roof, allowing the gods alone to view her and cast the elements down on her as they saw fit. In the summer, the air became humid and sticky, so much so that her clothes would stick to her skin, and she would cast them off and lie naked in the sun. In the winter, her breath would fog, and crystals would form on the walls of her tower. Yet, despite this, she was still a prisoner of relative comfort. Still a princess. Never wanting. Passing maids or childhood friends who had run with her on the seashores and dirtied their hands together with her in the palace orchards would be slipped into the bottom of the tower at her mother’s request and whisper gossip of the world below through the locked door. Fate had sealed her into her chamber, but it was she who chose how she responded. Time would pass whether she wept or sang. And so, Danae chose temperance and hope. Laughter at the shapes of the clouds, joy in the songs that reached her ears. Her father may have planned to steal years of her life, but she could choose in what humour she accepted them.

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