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It was so beautiful that it weakened the disbelief and cynicism she had learned from a very young age to carry

as her shield. She could be happy here . . . she could belong.

“It is your charge, Empousa.”

This morning Hecate’s presence did not startle her. The goddess materializing beside her felt comforting—a

reinforcement of the miracle that lay before her.

“This is where I belong,” Mikki said without looking away from the gardens.

“Yes, it is your destiny.” The goddess sounded pleased by her acknowledgment.

Mikki turned to face Hecate and flushed with surprise. Last night the goddess had appeared an indeterminate

age, anywhere from thirty-something to fiftysomething. This morning Hecate wore the same night-colored

robes and star-studded headdress. The gigantic dogs lounged by her feet, as they had the night before. But the

goddess had shed decades. She had the fresh face and tight figure of a teenager. Her smooth cheeks were

kissed with a blush of youthful peach.

Hecate frowned and raised gracefully arched brows. “You do not recognize your goddess, Empousa?”

Mikki swallowed hard. She might look like a teenager, but Hecate had certainly not lost any of her powerful

aura.

“It’s not that I don’t recognize you; it’s just that you’re so young!”

“Of my triple forms I simply chose the Maiden today. But do not be fooled by the facade of youth. You

should already know that the exterior of a woman does not define her interior.”

“It may not define her, but it certainly affects her. I’m old enough to know that,” Mikki said automatically.

Then, appalled at the brusque tone she had inadvertently used, she added, “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

Intelligent gray eyes looked unnaturally mature and out of place in the goddess’s smooth young face. “I rarely

find it disrespectful when an Empousa speaks honestly to me, Mikado. And you are correct. Too often our

exterior is what we are judged by, especially in your old world, one that has largely forgotten the lessons of

the goddesses.” Hecate shrugged her smooth shoulders. “Even in my realm where a woman’s appearance

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should not be the basis on which she is judged, my daughters too often forget the lessons of the three-faced

goddess.” Hecate’s wise gray eyes sparkled. “For instance, some would say that an Empousa of your

advanced years is too old to assume the role of my High Priestess. They would not say it in my presence, but

they would say it. And how would you answer their impertinence, Mikado?”

Mikki ignored the stiffness in her back and her sore muscles and met the goddess’s steady gaze. “I’d say that

I may be older, but that also means I’ve lived through more experiences, so I suggest they watch their silly

young selves. Age and treachery usually triumph over youth and exuberance.”

Hecate laughed, and as she did so, her appearance shifted so she was, once again, the beautiful, middle-age

woman Mikki had met the night before. “I will tell you a secret, my Empousa. Of the three, this is the form I

prefer. Youth is often overrated.”

“Especially by the young,” Mikki agreed.

The two smiled at one another, and for a moment, they were not goddess and mortal. They were just two

women in perfect agreement.

After a short, compatible silence, the goddess said, “I imagine this”—she gestured with one hand to take in

the gardens and the palace—“all seems quite unusual to you.”

Encouraged by the goddess’s approachability, Mikki smiled crookedly. “It is strange and unusual, as wemy

сusual, asll as more than a little overwhelming, but I do feel drawn to everything here.” She hurried on, not

wanting Hecate to know included in that “everything” was her cloven-hoofed late-night visitor. “When I cast

the circle and performed the initiation ritual I felt more beautiful and powerful and right than I’ve ever felt in

my life.”

Hecate nodded. “The Empousa blood runs thick in your veins, Mikado. You could not have felt true

belonging in the mundane world. Part of you longed to take your proper place in my realm. I suspect even

your mother and her mothers before her knew the unease of not quite fitting in.”

Mikki thought about her mother, remembering how she had always seemed to prefer to be alone—or to spend

time working in her garden with her roses—than to socialize. How she hadn’t ever seemed to miss her

father’s presence and when Mikki asked about him she only said that he had been an indulgence of her youth,

but that she would always be grateful to him for giving her the most important gift in her life—her daughter.

Her grandmother, too, had not been a woman who had many friends outside her daughter and her

granddaughter. She rarely spoke of the man who was her grandfather, except to smile surreptitiously and say

that they had had two different viewpoints on marriage—he had enjoyed it; she hadn’t. Men had not been

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