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Chapter 3: The Fire Accepts No Gods
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... merciless as any torment devised by Hades.
She wiped her palms on her skirts and eyed him sidelong. "I am called Othra," she said, as if carving her name in granite.
Her slate eyes sparkled with a humor so dry it threatened to ignite. "Healer, midwife, fixer of all things soft and leaking. This will not be gentle."
Apollo considered a retort, something barbed and dazzling, but found himself caught by the steadiness of her stare.
’She sees me like a frog sees the f ...
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