Dawn

The Saints who tutored me were not like this man, who had come to me clothed with the sun. He was handsome as only the God could be, that much was clear.

When I saw – near enough for me to touch – the glorious insignia of Apollo shining above his heart I leaned towards him, dizzy with both gratitude and my first sense of longing.  He did not say another word, just lifted me in his arms and carried me up to greet the new Dawn, clasping my golden head to his burnished breast.

When he set me down again it was well away from the scenes of bloodshed, in an area where the servants slept. He got down on one knee again and scrutinized me with an air of fascination, turning my chin towards the light and taking once again the weight of my hair in his hands, spreading his arms to measure its length.

Slowly he opened his fingers so it fell like skeins of golden silk around my shoulders. My eyes drifted closed and in the split second before I fainted I felt him gently kiss me on the cheek.