I go back to my room and leave my phone there, not wanting to read any more upsetting messages. “Oh my God,” one of the maids says, and I hurry up, quickly going down the stairs, where Anna picks up the plate’s shattered pieces. “Mrs. Wright.” She nods at me and nervously glances in the direction of the living room. “The dinner hasn’t been served yet. Maybe you can wait upstairs until we’re fully prepared.”
“Leon told me it’s done.” Panic crosses her face, so I add, “It’s okay. I’ll wait on the terrace.”
My eyes widen when she catches my elbow, stopping me from going inside the living room. “Maybe you should wait for Matilda. She was resting upstairs and should be down any minute.”
The staff acts strange on most days, that’s beyond bizarre even for them though. “I’m fine, Anna. Relax.” I free my arms and smile, hoping to ease her tension. She’s probably worried about the porcelain plate. God knows how Matilda reacts to such accidents. “Just call me whenever dinner is ready.”
I walk through the living room and out onto the terrace, going down the marble stairs toward the fountain of Orion. My fingers run over the orchid petals on the way as I wonder if I should take some and put them in my room.
I hate plucking the flowers from their natural habitats, but at the same time, some beauties are a must in this otherwise dark castle that reeks of coldness.
And while roses are nice, I’d really appreciate a change of scenery.
I lean forward to inhale the scent of the white orchid when a deep and husky voice stops me in my tracks. “Diana in Orion’s garden, what an interesting sight.” I look to the side, freezing at the sight of the handsome stranger as he cocks his head. He runs his gaze over my form as he flips a lighter through his fingers. “I would say it’s poetic, except she killed him. That puts a dent in the whole poetic shit.”
Straightening, I study the man. Shoulder-length dark hair against tan skin. Mismatched eyes, one brown and the other gray, and somehow both colors look eerie on him, as if his stare alone warns you to stay away. Leather boots, black jeans, and a shirt that showcases his muscular figure, which is more on theleaner side. Various tattoos cover his neck, forearms, and chest, adding to the dangerous energy that oozes from him in spades.
I’m so stunned by the sight of this stranger that I answer him without thinking. “There are a lot of different myths regarding Orion. I don’t think we should blame Artemis for what happened to him.”
He smirks, flipping the lighter once more before sparking it up and staring at the flame. It must burn him if the reddening skin of his thumb is any indication. “Ah, women. You prefer to romanticize myths rather than accept a simple fact. Goddesses could be cruel too. In fact, they thrived in the act. Which makes them even more appealing to the masses.” A beat passes. “That thought must be scary.”
“Why would it be scary?” I ask, taking a tentative step back when a glint of something wicked flashes in his eyes. Growing up with a cruel brother taught me to be cautious.
He closes his lighter, shrugs, and steps closer while I retreat farther. “Because women are taught to be good girls who must follow the rules and get rewards for it. When the truth of the matter is…they get nothing and instead waste their lives chasing perfected images. Goddesses lived their lives as they wished and eliminated anyone who stood in their way. They never got punished for it either. That’s a certain kind of power that one wishes to have, but rarely achieves in real life.” He winks, and my skin grows colder. “Artemis is the epitome of that definition. Lived free, avenged her mother, secured Zeus’s promise to never get married, and escaped Orion’s obsession with her. Or so the myths say.”
I’m not sure even he understands what the hell he just said, but once again, arguing with a stranger isn’t my top priority.
He moves forward some more, and I fire a question, hoping to stall him, and look around for the staff that usually pops upfrom every corner but are nowhere in sight now. “You have another theory?”
“She wanted a man on her own terms. I think Zeus, as her father, skewed her views on relationships, but an obsessed hunter? I bet she could have lived with that and would have accepted him.” Why are we even discussing mythical gods as if they were humans? “Her brother couldn’t accept it, which proves that no one fucks you up more in this life than your own family.”
“Those theories aren’t even that popular. She was a virgin goddess who eluded men hungry for conquest or power. She was never in love with any of them.”
“You’re named after her. Do more research, darling, and look what she truly represents.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I stay silent.
“Knowledge is power. And trust me, you’ll need it.” He points at my ring. “Wearing that makes you a target for vicious people, and it’s better to have epic comebacks for them.”
What the hell?
“Who are you?” I finally ask.
“According to the press, you’re plain as day,” he hisses through his teeth. “They are liars. You’re very beautiful. Which makes all of this even more interesting.”
Somehow, his so-called compliment sounds more like a mockery. “Who are you?” I repeat, clearing my throat and standing still. Why should I be intimidated by some random dude in my own, for the time being, house?
“My middle name is Actaeon. You don’t need to know anything more.”
The name rings a bell. Honestly, there are so many versions of these myths that one might come up with a new story every single time. “Actaeon? As in the infamous hero who got in trouble with Artemis because he spied on her when she bathed,and as punishment, she transformed him into a stag so his own hounds tore him apart?”
His gaze darkens. “You could say that. Annoying-as-fuck name, if you ask me. Dying because of one’s weakness is not the way to go.”
All right.
This just got weirder.
“What are you doing here?”
