Receiver of Many by Rachel Alexander

Author:Rachel Alexander [Alexander, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Rachel Alexander
Published: 2015-09-22T23:00:00+00:00

15.

The warm rush of divinity flowed back into Demeter— beating in her heart, coursing through her veins. She could feel the Telesterion’s altar nourishing her. When Demeter placed just a few drops of ambrosia on his tongue, Triptolemus’s fever broke immediately.

The infant Demophon was far more difficult.

She rocked the restive babe against her breast, feeling utterly alone in the cosmos. Zeus had abandoned her long ago, and had now betrayed their daughter. Poseidon was only ever loyal to his accursed brothers, and had made a disgusting mockery of her grief. Hades— she couldn’t even think his name without whipping up a wind that would shake the stone foundations of the great hall. Her daughter was trapped in the Underworld, dead by any mortal definition. The people of Hellas had abandoned her. The gods and nymphs cared nothing for her. Even loyal Minthe was nowhere to be found.

But the House of Celeus cared for her, had restored her life as surely as she would heal both their sons. She could have saved their daughters from Hades’s grasp if only she had arrived sooner. Maybe after she finished with Demophon, she would make them all immortal— a new family to replace the family that had betrayed her.

There were other curatives for the boy, but those required the earth to be healthy and fruitful, which it most certainly was not. Only bestowing immortality on the child would save him. It was the least she could do for the last of her worshippers. She placed the sleeping Demophon back in his crib. The sacraments granting him deathlessness were almost finished, though the last would be the most difficult. It would be unwise to do so in daylight— not when she was in the constant presence of mortals.

“My Lady…” A warm tenor voice echoed through the cold hall.

Demeter turned, suppressing a smile, and nodded to the young man. “You look well today, my Prince. But I’m just a humble old priestess. Addressing me as ‘my Lady’ is unnecessary,” she said, retrieving a piece of kindling from the hearth.

Triptolemus wore a gold circlet on his head, similar to his father’s. He was dressed in indigo to mourn his sisters, the wool himation wrapped tightly around him. Recovery had been quick. The dark circles under his eyes were fading. His skin was golden and flushed with from a childhood spent in the sun. He smiled at her. “Whatever you say… my Lady.”

Demeter looked back at him, the heavy crow’s feet around her eyes giving away her amusement.

“And that’s not entirely true, is it Doso?” Triptolemus said. Demeter placed the glowing ember in the censer and wafted the vapors of dried parsley over Demophon’s crib. “My mother said that you come from a noble family on Crete.”

The glamour of advanced age fell away for a moment, her hair flashing radiant gold and copper instead of brittle white. Anyone else would have missed it. While Demeter was healing him, Triptolemus had seen her youthful face many times through the delirium of his breaking fever.

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