Secrets of Artemis: A Teen Goddess Novel (Teen Goddesses Book 1) Read online

  AN INDIE B.R.A.G.

  MEDALLION AWARD HONOREE

  “...a well-constructed mythological work of high quality. The author has a fluid and almost melodic writing style that makes a tale about Greek mythological characters appealing and believable. An absolutely superb interpretation… Through the author's skillful touch, she has given an ancient tale a fresh new look and feel - one that is entertaining, evocative and sensual. Very well done!”

  – Indie B.R.A.G. Reviews

  “...incredible, breath-taking romance. The love story was unique yet classic, intimate and rebellious. Every word, no matter how simple, plays on your heart strings... A beautiful tale that I would read again and again.”

  – Mary Bernsen, Author

  “...a wonderful retelling... The author took apart the myth and reassembled it as her own.”

  – What's Beyond Forks?

  “Brooke’s storytelling captures those who are the least knowledgeable in Greek Mythology, while also pleasing those who are fans. The story is well-rounded, evoking a range of emotions. My interest never waned.”

  – S.F. Hardy, Motown Writers Network Assistant

  “Imaginative...an entertaining and satisfying read.”

  – Michele DeLuca, Author

  “...recommend to lovers of Greek mythology, strong-willed women, and slightly tragic journeys. Put down your skirts and take a walk through the stars with this book.”

  – Betwixt the Pages

  JORDINIA SERIES

  The Last Empress

  The Duchess Quest

  The Duchess Inheritance

  The Duchess’s Descendants

  The Emperor’s Daughters (Coming Soon)

  WORLD OF JORDINIA NOVELS

  The Red Pearl

  The Wrong Prince

  AMERICAN PIRATE ROMANCES

  Capturing the Captain

  Commanding His Heart (Coming Soon)

  MORE BOOKS

  Secrets of Artemis

  Heiress Heist

  Fool Moon (Novella)

  The Golden Dove (Novella)

  Deepwood: A Haunting (Novelette)

  Elphame Realms E-Zine: Issue #1

  MORE BOOKS COMING SOON!

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Secrets of Artemis. Copyright © 2015 by C.K. Brooke, www.CKBrooke.com.

  Cover design by Amanda Matthews of www.amdesignstudios.net. Interior Book Design by Break Through Author, http://www.breakthroughauthor.com.

  All rights reserved including the right to manufacture in any format, sell, or distribute copies of this book or portions of this book.

  For my F.G.M.

  Much that is believed about me is only partially true, or twisted in some way. They say I am vindictive, unforgiving toward anyone who challenges my purity, or dares to outdo me with a bow. They call me a maiden, fiercely protective of my eternal chastity. Worse still, they spread wicked lies about the one I love.

  It’s true, I am Mistress of the Hunt, goddess of the wilderness, of the moon and childbirth. But there’s more to my youth that remains untold. For centuries, I’ve kept hidden my true story. But now, I break the silence. Now, I share my account as men have never told it.

  I am Artemis, and these are my secrets.

  My mother’s name is Leto. In the same manner as many females, deific or mortal, she inevitably caught the eye of Zeus, the promiscuous king of the gods, one day.

  Well, when Leto discovered herself pregnant, Hera—of course, being Zeus’s furious wife—ordered all the land to shun her. The goddess queen forbade my mother to give birth anyplace on terra firma. So, it was on an island afloat, with no connection to the ocean floor, where my mother first settled to bear Zeus’s children: my twin brother Apollo and me.

  I was born first. I gave my mother no pains, but positioned myself before my brother. When the time came, I thrust my head through the canal with precision and speed. Now, you must understand, we gods are not born helpless infants, in the way of mortals. I emerged from the womb without travail, cognizant and powerful. As such, I was aware of two things. One: that, unlike with my birth, my mother would suffer while delivering my brother. And, two: I was capable of helping her. I don’t know how I knew I could help. I was simply drawn to the task like a wolf to a hare, and possessed every confidence that midwifery was my mission.

  First though, we had to leave the island. It was awash with precarious tides, and as it didn’t hold to the ocean floor, I wasn’t certain the increasingly ferocious waves wouldn’t overtake it.

  “Come,” I told my mother. Nude and glistening with the juices of birth, I rose and clutched her hand, and led her to her boat. To this day, I remember the feel of wet sand beneath my bare feet, where the tides repeatedly assaulted the shore.

  Mother moaned and rubbed her belly. My brother remained within. Once in the boat with me, she closed her eyes and leaned back in the stern while I assumed the oars and rowed us from the little island. We rocked and rode the waves. My mother’s knuckles blanched as she gripped the side of the boat, perspiration leaking down her brow. I summoned my breath and called upon my father’s winds to propel us.

  By the following day, we made it to the isle of Delos. At first, the land was reluctant to receive us. Hera had ordered it to reject us, after all, and it didn’t wish to disobey her. But I pleaded with the nature spirits. “My brother is coming. You cannot deny the son of Zeus.”

  The reminder of our paternal parentage did the trick. The rowboat washed ashore, and Mother and I were permitted onto land. “Quickly,” panted my mother. “Now that we are here, your brother wants to arrive.”

  I hurried to guide her to an empty stretch of shore. She squatted in earnest and pressed her hand up against a palm tree, bracing herself.

  “That’s it,” I encouraged her. The look on her face poured a chalice of sympathy into my heart, and all I wanted was to ease her pain. “Bend your knees a little,” I instructed, leveling her knees with her hips.

  She grunted.

  “Almost there, Mother,” I exclaimed, spying my brother’s blond crown.

  As the sea lapped peacefully and the sun grinned over us, my twin was born. I delivered him in my own hands. Feeling glorious at my success, I cradled him while my mother lay down in exhaustion.

  I set my brother onto his feet. He walked up to her, and she embraced him with one arm. “Apollo,” she hummed against his golden curls. Her other arm, she extended to me. “Artemis,” she called me over. “It’s so good to be together.”

  Now, the stories say that when I was three years old, I sat on my doting father’s knee and asked him to grant me six wishes. At this, I shake my head. You mortals have loved to paint me as a spoiled ninny, haven’t you?

  The truth is, while I did sit on my father’s knee that day, it was he who bestowed upon me wishes of his own. Of the six I’m charged with requesting, only half did I actually ask for—and only at his prompting. Otherwise, it never would have occurred to me to ask Zeus for anything.

  As it happened, Hera was away for a sojourn, so I was free to visit my father in the palace on Mount Olympus, when I was just a budding youth. The god-king beamed when he saw me, grey curls bouncing over lightning green eyes as he rose from his throne and strode up to me with strong arms open wide.
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  “There’s my little bear cub,” he cooed, scooping me up. I giggled, riding in his arms as he carried me back to the throne. Zeus sat and propped me upon his gigantic knee. (Looking back, I sometimes wonder if it was memories such as this one, which would later engender my attraction to mighty men.)

  He began to adore me, tapping my nose and commenting on my rosy cheeks, my knobby knees and silky black hair. “Artemis, Artemis,” he sighed with delight, “my quail. Little dove. Your father’s favor is upon you. What gifts shall I grant my clement daughter today?”

  I held my breath, enjoying the attention.

  “You will be the Light Bringer,” he decided. “Yes, and unlike other girls, you’re to be equipped with your very own bow and arrows, when you are ready. And you may wear your tunic at knee-length, so that you can hunt and be mistress of all the wild animals and the forest.” His strong chin bowed in approval of his own decrees.

  “In addition, dear one,” he smiled, “I’ll give you a choir of sixty sea daughters of Oceanus, with twenty woodland nymphs for your handmaids and attendants.”

  My eyes widened. Such a procession!

  “But,” he surveyed me, his grin straightening. Even then, I could sense this last bit was more for himself. “Above all, my girl, you shall remain ever chaste, knowing no man for your consort, pure for all ages. In this way,” he nodded again, “I grant you my protection.”

  I simply nodded back at him. As if, being but an innocent child, I had any idea what he meant! Had I known better, I might have argued right then, might have stood and interjected, “Wait! What if I should someday desire a husband?”

  Alas, I knew no better.

  Time and again, I’ve pondered that moment, trying to understand why my father would have chosen such a lonely fate for me. The world likes to believe that I requested chastity for myself—as if I understood such matters at a tender age. But, I grew to guess that Zeus had aimed to shield me from the lust of men. He was surely aware of his own nature. Perhaps he didn’t want what he’d done to so many women happening to his own daughter. Though I’m certain he saw it as a fatherly blessing, it was to become rather a curse for me.

  “So,” he jiggled me on his knee that day, “does this please you, pleasant Artemis? Does your papa fulfill the dreams of your wee heart?”

  I shrugged.

  “Then tell me what else I may offer you,” he chuckled.

  I thought. My twin brother Apollo and I were rivals in those days, always bickering and challenging one another, as children do. Apollo thought himself better at everything because he was a boy, and I didn’t appreciate his low opinion of me. I wanted that to change. “I’d like many titles, special names to set me apart from my brother,” I told Zeus.

  He boomed with laughter. “Done.”

  I smiled at the idea of besting Apollo, and my heart thudded in satisfaction.

  “Is that all?” My father prodded me. “Wouldn’t you like more? How about a temple dedicated in your honor, or a city named for you? Thirty cities and many towers I would heartily vouchsafe you, and you could be watcher over their streets and harbors.”

  “No cities, Father. Only…” My thoughts raised heavenward, above Mount Olympus’s peak, as though I was gazing down upon all the mountains beneath us. It was in their rocky crests I’d longed to dwell. “May I rule the mountains?” I asked.

  “The mountains now bow to your command.”

  We felt Olympus quiver underneath us, as if communicating its obedience.

  I sat up straighter. There was only one thing more, which had been itching me since the hour of my birth. I thought back to the agony my mother endured while delivering my brother. I recalled the way Apollo had slid out of her womb, and I’d caught him. I’d felt so proud to help, and I wanted more opportunities to alleviate the birthing pangs of all mothers.

  “I wish to assuage women’s pains in childbirth,” I requested. “I feel I already have the ability. But I want to be the one mortals call upon.”

  My father stroked his beard. “Such a simple, selfless request,” he remarked. “Consider it done.” He caressed me. “Ah, Artemis. When goddesses bear me children like you, little need I heed the wrath of jealous Hera. You may take all that you ask for, and more.”

  I glowed.

  Eventually, Zeus had to return to his duties, overseeing the skies and the laws of the land. As for me, I didn’t go back to my mother and brother, but to the white mountain of Crete, over which I newly reigned. I climbed and explored, and met the nymphs who would become my attendants. Then, I descended the slopes and went to the sea, where I furthered my acquaintance with Oceanus’s daughters, sixty of whom were now my personal choir.

  A lone goddess, I kept out of the mortals’ cities and spent many moons in the mountains, pondering Zeus’s plans for me. The wilderness and the hunt? Animals? I wasn’t so sure I was the right goddess to take charge of those things. Instead, since my birth and Apollo’s, I’d felt the Fates had elected me for a midwife. Not a huntress.

  But Zeus’s will was law. It didn’t matter what I’d once believed was my calling.

  It would take time until I became ready. But eventually, I would come to embrace the destiny my father had chosen for me.

  Only, not entirely on my own.

  Crete had become my home. As the years cycled through, I remained there among my friends, the nymphs and young sea daughters, capable of caring for myself. Enough ages passed that my brother, Apollo, grew into a man with children of his own. Meanwhile, though the same age as him, I still resembled a maiden of only sixteen years, due to my father’s wishes.

  In those days, I was wont to amuse myself in the forest, frolicking with my companions, climbing trees and exploring our natural setting. The cypress was a particular favorite of mine (and still is). It was while I reposed beneath one, soaking up the shade, when I first heard it: murmuring, as though issuing from the branches themselves. I tilted an ear and listened. I’d never heard plants make such human sounds.

  It wasn’t any plant, I was quick to realize. It was, indeed, humans. But I didn’t see anyone nearby. How could I be hearing people?

  I concentrated. Then I gasped, for I heard my name among the disembodied words:

  Artemis, may you find our sacrifices worthy. Look favorably upon us, O huntress of the light. In my mind, I saw a slain goat on an altar, with a candle burning before a carving of a robust girl. I could smell the dark red wine as they poured a libation into a silver goblet.

  I turned to my nymph attendants, Daphne and Dryadea. “What’s happening?” I whispered.

  Daphne swooped down from the laurel tree she haunted. “The mortals offer you a sacrifice, my lady. They are praying to you.”

  “Praying?” But I shouldn’t have been surprised. I am deity, after all.

  Dryadea flitted to my side. “You’ve become popular among the people of Crete, Lady Artemis. And it sounds like they request your assistance in the upcoming hunt.”

  My lips pursed. “Well, I can’t help them. Come.” I rose. “Let’s play.”

  My nymphs indulged me, and we returned to our fun, as usual. Although, from that day, the mortals’ persistent prayers continued to pester me. It wasn’t all the time. But I especially heard them when I was silent, or trying to rest. So, I ignored it.

  It was a cold but sunny morning in the forest when I stood in a tree, overlooking the woods. A tawny hare hopped into view, and paused on the forest floor. It twitched its nose and flickered its whiskers. I stared at it, a strange new urge occurring to me. Had I a weapon, how easy, how simple it would be to take aim and strike it…

  My tongue watered. I loved the taste of raw game. I didn’t eat much, because gods don’t need to, but we surely enjoy the experience. The hare cocked a long ear. I was silent. I watched as it bounced away, disappearing into the brush.

  I sighed. Somehow, it
felt like a missed opportunity. It wasn’t that I merely craved meat; at that point, I knew offerings were waiting for me all over the island. But I yearned for the satisfaction of capturing it myself. It wouldn’t be the last time, either.

  I cast my gaze north, where I knew Mount Olympus loomed, far across the sea. Were my father’s plans for me beginning to take root in my heart? Was this how it worked? I’d reached an appropriate age, and now his desires were becoming my own?

  I climbed the mountains, seeking solitude. But I didn’t find it. A squirrel scampered past my ankle, taunting me. It plucked an acorn from the ground and fondled it between spindly paws. I was stalking it when something pale caught my attention.

  I stopped, and parted the tree branches to peer through. My gasp lodged in my throat. It was a human body.

  A dead one.

  She’d been no more than a preadolescent girl. I stepped closer. Her grave was shallow, with hardly a marking to identify it. It appeared she’d recently been laid to rest there. She was naked, with long, dark waves of hair framing her sunken face.

  “Her kin starve,” came an unexpected voice. I turned to see an oread—a mountain nymph, whom I’d never met before—speaking to me. “Being the youngest daughter, she was considered the least valuable. Her clan fed their meager rations to the men and her brothers, instead.”

  “And left her for dead?” I asked, indignant. For a moment, I actually considered seeking the girl’s shade in Hades, simply to find out who her family was, and chastise them accordingly.

  “She was to be their sacrifice,” said the oread carefully.

  “To whom?” I demanded.