"I don’t know why we have to heal both bodies. The mortal woman you’ve chosen for Achilles is going to take Polyxena’s body. Shouldn’t we just send the other on her way to wherever it is dead modern mortals go?” Athena said.

Venus shook her head in disgust. “Athena, you need more girlfriends. We’re going to zap a modern mortal into an ancient princess’s body and ask her to do our bidding. Oh, and, by the way, that little memory she has of an accident where she and her best friend are killed? Well, yes, that’s unfortunate, but whatever. We needed her, so her best friend is toast. She should just go about our business and forget about her.”

“The problem with that is?” Athena said. “And what does toast have to do with it?”

Venus rolled her lovely eyes. “It’s just an expression. A modern mortal expression that means done, over with.”

“And the problem with asking one mortal do so something for us without including her friend is that modern mortal women are different than ancient women,” Hera explained patiently. “They’re independent and smart and not used to bowing down and taking orders. Actually, now that I think about it, they’re a lot like goddesses.”

“Exactly what I’ve been trying to tell her,” Venus said.

“I don’t think I like that.” Athena frowned.

“I don’t think you’re going to like the lines that will start appearing on your face if you don’t stop frowning so much,” Venus said.

“And I don’t think you’re going to like what happens if you rouse the anger of the Goddess of War,” Athena said.

“Enough!” Hera’s voice shot out, ringing powerfully against the walls of her temple. Then she closed her eyes briefly and drew a deep breath. “Your bickering is getting in the way of what we must do here. More importantly, it’s giving me a headache.” The Queen of the Gods glanced at little Eleithyia, who was cowering in a corner. “And you’re scaring my priestess, who has already had enough stress for one day.”

Venus and Athena muttered apologies.

“Now, let us get this done.” Hera gave the two goddesses one more severe look before turning to Eleithyia. “We’ll need a ceremonial goblet filled with the temple’s very best wine. Can you get that for me?”

“Of course, Goddess!” Recovering quickly now that she was given a familiar task, the young priestess scampered off, returning only moments later with a golden goblet filled with rich red wine.

“Very good.” Hera nodded her approval. Then she approached the bodies of Polyxena and her maidservant, motioning for Venus and Athena to join her. “Bring the goblet here, Eleithyia, and stand before the bodies. When I begin the healing spell, raise the goblet so that the wine can be filled with our power. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Goddess.” The young priestess moved into place.

“Let us join in a circle of divine power.” The three goddesses solemnly clasped hands around the fallen princess of Troy and her servant. “Concentrate on the wine in the goblet,” Hera told them. Then she cleared her throat and recited the spell:

“Joined together with a single mind,

goddesses three our powers we do bind.”

Eleithyia gasped as the wine in the goblet she had lifted above her head began to glow with such a brilliant light that it shined in reflection off the distant domed ceiling of the temple.

“Standing here bathed in conjured light,

empower this wine with our combined might.

The gift of healing is what we ask,

fruit of the vine, accept this as your task.”

“It is hot!” Eleithyia cried, but she didn’t let loose her grip on the glowing goblet.

“It is the heat of the breath of life. Quickly, child, pour the wine within the lips of the princess and her servant,” Hera said.

Eleithyia immediately did as her goddess commanded. She bent and carefully poured half of the wine into Polyxena’s slack and bloody lips, and the other half into the young maidservant’s still mouth.

“I don’t know if this is going to work.” Venus frowned as most of the wine ran down the pale cheeks of dead women. “Maybe we should—”

Polyxena gasped and then drew a deep, almost painful sounding breath. Shortly after, Melia’s chest began to rise and fall, too.

“Keep focused,” Hera reminded them before completing the spell.

“Wounds mend—health return

the spark of mortal life within them burn!”

As the goddesses and the priestess watched, the terrible gash on Polyxena’s head faded, and then disappeared at the same time Melia’s gaping chest wound shimmered and closed so that the two women lay perfectly healed, though the only movement in their eerily still bodies was their slow, steady breathing.

Eleithyia fell to her knees and bowed her head. “It worked! You have healed them.”

Hera touched her priestess’s cheeks softly. “Only their bodies, child. Their souls are journeying to the Elysian Fields. They are but empty shells.”

“Well, it just so happens that I have two mortal souls in desperate need of shells,” Venus said. “Shall I get them?”

“Yes, but Athena and I need to make our visits to Agamemnon and Thetis first.”

Athena frowned at the newly healed bodies. “Shouldn’t you do something about all that blood and such before you put the mortal souls in there? I’m no expert on modern mortals, but I do believe that any woman would be quite upset awakening to this mess.” The goddess made a general gesture at the blood-spattered temple.

“Ugh. As much as I hate to admit it, you’re right.” Venus sighed. Then she fluttered her fingers absently at Athena and Hera. “Go on, don’t worry about this. I’ll conjure some satyrs to take care of it.”

“Satyrs?” Hera said. “Aren’t they rather messy?”

“Of course—nothing makes a mess like a rutting satyr, which is why they’re so good at clean-ups. They’re used to it.”

Hera and Athena gave Venus twin looks of confusion.

“You don’t think I clean up after all those orgies, do you?” Venus shook her head in disgust. “I’m their goddess, not their mother.”

Athena snorted.

“Let’s leave this to Love, shall we?” Hera guided Athena from the room before the goddesses could start bickering again. “Have the little beasts clean quickly—this shouldn’t take long,” she called back over her shoulder.

“Why is it that Love always gets stuck with the mess?” Venus muttered.

“Could it be because love can be so messy?” Eleithyia asked with a sweet, innocent smile.

“Darling, you’re obviously new to this whole priestess thing, so I won’t blast you into nonexistence for calling me messy.”

Eleithyia gasped and looked like she was going to burst into tears.

Venus sighed. “Not to worry. That was just a little divine humor. Let’s get the satyrs to work, shall we?” The goddess glanced down at the two bodies that awaited souls. “And while I’m thinking about it I better come up with some new clothes for these two. All that blood will never come out…” She continued to mutter to herself as she conjured an entire herd of industrious satyrs and began putting the temple to order.


Hera materialized within the innermost chamber of Agamemnon’s voluminous tents. Except for the young, hairless boy who was oiling the king’s dark, perfectly curled hair, they were alone.

“The Goddess Hera!” The boy shrieked and dropped instantly to the ground, pressing his face to the richly carpeted floor. Agamemnon merely bowed—and not low enough for Hera’s taste. She pointedly ignored the king and touched the back of the boy’s blond head.

“Arise, child. I wish to speak with your king alone, but know that you go with my blessing.” Hera waited until the boy left the room before turning her attention to Agamemnon. She took her time studying him, knowing that it annoyed him to keep his head bowed before her. She noted how he’d swathed himself in gold and had to force herself not to grimace with distaste. Did the man think he was a god?

If so, he was vastly mistaken.

“Arise, Agamemnon. I come with glad news,” Hera finally said.

“Great Goddess, do you bring a message from the mighty Zeus?”

Hera’s eyes flashed with anger and her voice sizzled with power so tangible it brushed, crackling, against the arrogant mortal’s skin. “I am not a messenger for my husband!”

This time Agamemnon’s bow was low and obsequious and much more appropriate. “Forgive me! I did not mean to offend the Queen of the Gods.”

Hera curled one lip delicately. “Mores the pity you don’t mean offense because it comes so naturally to you. Heed my warning, Greek king, your arrogance will be your doom.” Happily, she saw him pale. “But, no matter.” She waved her hand graciously, motioning for him to rise. “The news I bring has to do with your empty bed.” Although Hera remembered the slender, hairless boy and wondered just how empty the king’s bed had been.

“Indeed, Goddess, my war prize was returned to appease the golden twins. Though I meant no disrespect by claiming Khryseis, it seems her father disapproved.”

“Khryseis was no good for you. A king should have a worthy prize. Only Briseis is beautiful enough for one such as you.” Silently Hera promised herself that she would look up poor Briseis after this whole debacle was finished and grant the girl a boon to make up for sharing this blustering fool’s bed.

“Briseis! She is lovely, but she belongs to Achilles.” The king’s expression turned sly. “Although I hear all that beauty is wasted on him. Achilles frightens maidens.”

Ah, Hera thought, then the rumors about Achilles are true. “Exactly why Briseis would do better with you.”

Agamemnon stroked his thick beard contemplatively. “True… true… but still, Achilles—”

“Does Achilles or Agamemnon rule here?” Hera interrupted.

“I rule the Greeks!”

“Then claim the war prize that most suits you,” Hera said.

Agamemnon met the goddess’s gaze. “May I do so with your blessing?”

“Of course. And to help soothe Achilles’ well-known rage, I shall arrange for a bedmate to be sent to him. This new war bride will be unlike other women. You should know that she has my very special blessing.”

“I bow to your will, Great Goddess,” Agamemnon said.

“Excellent. Then send your men for Briseis immediately.” While Agamemnon bowed, Hera clapped her hands and disappeared in a rush of glittering blue smoke.


Thetis curtseyed respectfully to Athena. Then, hastily conjuring ambrosia and cushioned chairs made of mother of pearl, she motioned for the gray-eyed goddess to sit.

“Rest yourself, Athena. To what do I owe this—” Her words broke when she realized that the goddess was blood-spattered and hard-eyed. “By Poseidon’s trident! What has happened?”

Athena waved a dismissive hand at the bloodstains, which instantly disappeared. “It is all because of the tedium of the Trojan War. We have decided it must end.”

Thetis’s beautiful face drained of its alluring peach color. “My son is fated to die in the Trojan War. If it is coming to an end, then so is his life.”

“That is what I’m here to speak with you about. We have an idea that may prove mutually beneficial to all of us. We believe the Trojan War can be ended without your son’s death.”

“Anything, Goddess. I will do anything to save my son,” Thetis said, recovering some of her color. Then she added, “Who is we?”

“Hera, Venus and me.”

Thetis’s blue eyes widened. “Three such powerful goddesses joined with one purpose!”

“Well, it isn’t always an easy alliance, but we three do have one thing very much in common—we are well and truly sick of this war.”

“Four,” Thetis said firmly. “We four are allied by this purpose, if there is some way my son can be spared.”

“Tell me, Thetis, is your son still pleased with the choice he made to end his life too soon?” Athena asked.

Thetis chewed her full bottom lip while she considered. “Achilles won’t speak of it directly, but I know him well. Over the past years he has become increasingly unhappy. Did you know he hasn’t taken a lover in almost a decade?”

Athena’s eyes widened. “Truly?”

Thetis nodded. “It’s the berserker rage that overtakes him—women are frightened of him because of it. My son would never force himself on a woman, so he lives out the short time that remains to him alone except for his Myrmidons, and even they are becoming leery of him. I can feel my son’s sorrow and I believe he keeps moving toward his fate only because the life he’s living brings him nothing but loneliness.”

“So this war-prize bride who lives in his tent, she is not his lover?”

“Briseis is a beautiful young woman who is as frightened of my son as all of the rest of them have been, even though he has only treated her with kindness,” Thetis said.

Athena’s smooth brow wrinkled in thought. “But if he’s kind to her, you would think that she would eventually accept him.”

“You have never seen the berserker rage possess him, have you?” Thetis asked quietly.

“No.”

Thetis shuddered. “It is a thing terrible to behold. He is no longer my Achilles when it comes upon him. He becomes a monster, a beast, a physical manifestation of pure rage set only on violence.”

“But the bedroom is not the battlefield.”

“Any strong emotion can bring on the berserker,” Thetis said. She shook her head sadly. “There is no mortal woman who would be willing to look beyond the rage and see the man, especially now that he has become so battle scarred.”

“Battle scarred?” Athena tried to think when was the last time she had actually seen Achilles, and decided it hadn’t been since he was a boy on this very beach. “But he was beautiful.”

“He used to be, but his victories in battle after battle have come with a price. He is not invulnerable, you know,” Thetis said defensively. “He is mortal. It is only when his rage is awakened that the berserker claims him.” The sea goddess wiped away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. “Sometimes it takes a lot for his rage to be awakened, and his body shows the remnants of a young life filled with blood and death.” Thetis dropped to her knees before Athena. “I beseech you, Athena, as I did the day this horror was placed upon him, help my son break free of his terrible fate.”

Athena took Thetis’s hand, pulling her gently to her feet. “I may be able to finally answer that prayer. Can you get Achilles to withdraw from the fighting, even for just a little while?”

“Without a reason?”

Athena considered for a moment, then asked, “Achilles is less impetuous than he was as a boy, but is he still as proud?”

“Sadly, I believe he is.”

Athena smiled one of her rare smiles. “Then I can give you a reason for Achilles to withdraw. Listen carefully…”

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