Free Pandora Gets Heart by Carolyn Hennesy Page B

throne and popped it into his mouth.
    “Five-second rule,” he said.
    Pandy almost let her jaw drop but felt it would be decidedly inappropriate, so she hid her lips in a straight line across her face.
    As he chewed, Zeus closed his eyes and all the meatballs, on the floor and in his lap, flew out a nearby window, and his robes were gleaming white once again.
    Sitting on a smaller throne next to her husband, Hera sneered.
    “Mortal.”
    Zeus gazed at Pandy, but one corner of his mouth turned upward slightly.
    “Indeed.”
    And in that instant, Pandy knew that the chasm of the centuries didn’t matter at all. He knew who she was and why she was there. And she knew it. And he knew that she knew that he knew.
    “Approach,” he said, and Pandy took two steps closer.
    Out of thin air Zeus produced a gold coin, larger and shinier than any other Pandy had seen, and dropped it onto her tray.
    “For your service,” he said.
    Almost at once, the coin was snatched up by two fat fingers.
    “I’ll just hold on to this for you, my dear, until the evening is through,” Echidna said. “All right?”
    “It is not,” said Zeus evenly.
    “But Sky-Lord,” Echidna said, forgetting her greed and suddenly terrified, “she has no place to carry such a token. I hold on to all the—”
    “She can place it in the pouch at her waist.”
    The gold coin disappeared out of Echidna’s palm, and Pandy felt it secure inside a small red leather pouch now dangling from a cord around her girdle.
    “Why . . . uh . . . well, of course she can. Silly me,” Echidna said.
    “Indeed,” Zeus replied. Then he paused, and Pandy watched his eyes glaze over for a second, taking him far away.
    “Very well,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s get this over with. Begin.”
    “I’m not certain that the bride is quite ready, Cloud Gatherer,” Echidna said.
    “She’s ready,” Zeus said flatly.
    “Absolutely,” Echidna replied, and scuttled away toward a purple curtain at the back wall, gesturing frantically at the orchestra. Instantly, a beautiful melody filled the air as a large, round cedar dais was rolled in from a side terrace and set in the middle of the hall. Pandy raced to the staging room and deposited her tray, noticing new red leather pouches on all the servants. She was about to rush back into the main hall when she remembered her and Alcie’s tips hidden on the adjoining terrace. Trying to be discreet amidst the servants hurrying about, she snuck outside, swiftly grabbed the bundles from behind the stone bench, and stuffed them into her new pouch. Then she heard a soft sniffle from across the marble flagstones. It was so soft, she wasn’t sure at first she’d actually heard anything. But looking down the length of the terrace into the growing darkness, she saw someone standing alone at the far end, hunched over against the railing. Even in the dim light, she knew instantly who it was.
    Her father.
    But not her father . . . yet, she reminded herself.
    Without thinking of the consequences to the future, she approached him cautiously.
    “Excuse me, sir,” she said softly. “Are you all right? May I get you anything?”
    “Oh . . . uh . . . no. Thank you, I’m fine. Thank you.”
    There was the faintest hint of a tremor (which he was attempting to hide) as Prometheus spoke, and even though Pandy could tell that there was something obviously wrong, the sound of her father’s voice still made her instantly comfortable.
    “Is there anything the matter, sir?”
    To him she was only a serving girl, she knew, and still he wouldn’t look at her. He stared far off into the darkness.
    “Anything the matter?” he echoed. “No. Not really.”
    Inadvertently, he wiped something from his eye.
    Pandy reached into the pouch at her waist and awkwardly dumped the coins from one of the bundles into the pouch, and then she handed the cloth to Prometheus. Finally, he turned, seeing her for the first time. He smiled.
    “It’s just,” he said,