Danae puffed out her chest. “Aristides.”
The guard’s eyes widened with recognition, and her heart leaped.
“Yes,” she pressed. “And if I’m left behind, he will be furious.”
The groove between the guard’s brows deepened. He did not move.
Mouth dry, Danae took a step toward him, lowering her voice. “What’s your name?”
“Cyrus.”
She reached for his hand, the other holding her cloak closed over her tunic. As her fingers touched his skin, she fluttered her eyelids.
“I sense great things for you, Cyrus. The Goddess of Wisdom whispers to me from Mount Olympus.” She closed her eyes as though straining to hear. “General.”
The guard stared at her for three more agonizing heartbeats, then turned to knock on the window of the second carriage and opened the door.
“In you go,” he said gruffly, not meeting her eye. “And thank you.”
As he helped Danae into the compartment, bile surged into her throat at the thought of the blasphemy she’d just uttered.
She was greeted by three startled faces. Before anyone could speak, she was sent tumbling onto the floor as the carriage jolted forward. The inside was lined with sumptuous cushions in a myriad of colors, on which the three chosen novices were reclining. She’d never been anywhere so luxurious. Not even lying on a soft, sandy beach was as comfortable as this.
A chorus of “May the Twelve see you and know you” echoed from the girls. At eighteen, she was by far the oldest. She put the two on the right at no older than fifteen and the youngest only looked around thirteen. From the carriage floor, she made the sacred gesture in return, praying that back in the Temple of Athena she had moved too quickly for any of the novices to remember her face.
“Who areyou?” asked the girl on the right, the color rising in her pale pink cheeks. Her blue eyes swept disapprovingly over Danae’s flyaway hair as she tucked her own silky blond strands behind her ear.
“Last-minute addition.” Danae pushed herself off the plush upholstery.
The middle girl’s brow creased. Her skin was russet brown, and she had a soft face framed by a cloud of black curls. “The high priestess never mentioned you. Why haven’t you been studying with us?”
“I’m from a town outside the city,” Danae said quickly. “It took me a while to get here.”
“I don’t believe you,” said the blonde girl.
Danae fought to remain calm. “Do you really think the guards would have allowed me in if I wasn’t a candidate?”
The blonde girl gave her a scouring look. “What does your father do?”
“He owns an olive grove.”
The girl made a disparaging sound in the back of her throat. “I thought they only chose the daughters of nobility to be novices.”
Danae shrugged. “I’m special, I guess.”
The blonde girl still looked unconvinced.
“What’s your name?” asked the curly-haired novice.
After a beat Danae said, “Carissa.”
The girl smiled. “I’m Dimitra,” she nodded at her blonde companion. “That’s Olympia.”
“And I’m Lyssa,” said the youngest of the three. Her copper skin was peppered with an explosion of freckles, and she had large green eyes that reminded Danae of a frog.
Her lips twitched. “Nice to meet you all.”
“We were just talking about visions,” said Dimitra. “I haven’t had one yet but I’m sure I’ve heard the voice of Athena—”
