Daughter of Apollo

When I next awoke it was to find the maids Helena and Corinthia bending over me with anxiety in their eyes.

“Thank God she is safe!” cried Helena, who had nursed me for as long as memory served to recall. Tears were streaming down her kind, open face and I sat up to put my arms around her.

I became aware that the Tetrarch was watching us with great attention. Silence descended, bringing with it a gentle breeze of warm, sweet air. It came suddenly upon us, as if it were the breath of Aphrodite.  

“The Aura," he said quietly, putting a finger to my cheek. His voice fell almost to a whisper. “This girl is so fair I can scarcely believe she is mortal - in her face I see the divine…”

Helena gave him a sharp look that cut through her tears like a knife, but Corinthia overflowed with proud words, in accordance with her immoderate nature. “Oh, she is fair as the sun, Sir. Such hair as there is on her head we have never before seen the like of!”

Without so much as a glance at her, removing neither hand nor eyes from my face, he asked:  “You know, do you not, that the high priestess is dead?"

I was shocked at his words for this had not occurred to me until that moment, but the Tetrarch addressed me once again with an air of calm expectancy. “Now that she is gone, what will you say to me daughter of Apollo?”