Free The Goddess by Robyn Grady Page B

And she’s lost both her parents. When my father passed away,
     I remember thinking that suddenly no one seemed to understand me. My mother was always
     nitpicking, was always demanding respect. She didn’t seem to understand that I deserved
     respect, too.”
    “I don’t try to take my parents place where Tahlia is concerned. I only ask that she
     finish her education before getting sidetracked, thinking about boys.”
    “Sorry to tell you, but all teenage girls stress over make-up, clothes, hair, and
     boys—not necessarily in that order. How old is she?”
    “Just turned eighteen.”
    “She wants to stretch her wings, to be her own person, to feel as if she can make
     her own decisions.”
    He poured more wine. “She likes a boy. A member of my staff.”
    “Likes?”
    He conceded. “She says loves. She’s naïve. Little more than a child.”
    “That’s something my mother would say.”
    “A person needs more than butterflies chasing around in their stomachs to make a marriage
     work.”
    “My parents married at a young age and they were happy.” She shrugged. “Maybe your
     sister truly is in love.”
    “Young love comes and goes. But an education lasts a lifetime.”
    “Haven’t you read Romeo and Juliet? The more you try to keep star-crossed lovers apart,
     the more they’ll fight to stay together.”
    He near drained his glass. “Tahlia will go to university in England.”
    “Right. She’ll be safe from boys there.”
    “I don’t want her to make a mistake.”
    “Like your uncle made a mistake?”
    “Perhaps.”
    “Where’s your uncle now?”
    “Living in the States.”
    “Happily married?”
    “I believe so.”
    “Three cheers for love.”
    “Not when it costs a man his kingdom.”
    “I’m sure your uncle is happy with the kingdom he resides in now.”
    He sat back. Damn, this woman was like a dog with a bone.
    “We have three days left here,” he said. “Let’s pretend politics and family don’t
     exist.”
    A playful smile eased across her face. “So you’re just a regular guy taking some time
     off from the beat.”
    “Just a regular guy.”
    She raised her glass. “Well, here’s to boring obscurity.”
    But as they drank, for the first time in his life Darius truly wondered what it would
     be like to lead an ordinary existence, to set sail on an adventure as Helene had done—as
     his uncle had done, too—and have no real plans for ever coming back.
    “Darius, your mother liked to read.” Helene put down her glass. “Did she like to write?”
    “You mean like a journal or her own stories?” He thought back. “Not that I recall.”
    She nibbled the last of her cheese then set her plate aside. “I might go down to the
     stables later and try to clean up the rest of that paint.”
    “Hang on. Why did you want to know whether my mother wrote?”
    “No reason.”
    He reached over and caught her hand. “Sorry. Not convinced.”
    “Well, this morning, after I left you…I kind of broke something. Actually, I think
     it was already broken. Or maybe it was a hidden lid. Like a trap door in reverse.”
    “You’re not making sense.”
    “The wardrobe in my room. That shell I brought back rolled underneath, and when I
     tried to rake it out…” She pushed to her feet. “Why don’t I show you?”
    She led him through into her quarters and crossed to the window seat. Presenting a
     few sheets of yellowed paper, she sat down.
    “Read this.”

    The world had gone mad.
    Leandros slapped away hot ash that drifted from a ring of burning pyres then grabbed
     a man rushing past. Ahmet was a well-respected merchant who dealt in fine cloth. Today
     his gaze was wild and, his garments were stained with soot and blood. Fisting his
     hands into the older man’s shirtfront, Leandros spoke fervently to his eyes.
    “How long have they been gathered?”
    “Since the early hours.” Ahmet growled, a sound drenched in venom and disgust. “Our
     king has disgraced his