Cyane to her feet with a bright grin. Kore exclaimed, “If we finish the temple fast today, perhaps we can go for a swim?”
“I don’t think father would mind!” Cyane brushed tendrils of dark blue hair away from her face. “Besides, I’ve found a few freshwater clams you’d love to meet.”
As her friend rushed ahead to the nymphs, Kore laughed at her antics. Any other goddess would have lifted their nose at the lesser beings. Nymphs and naiads weren’t normal companions for a goddess.
But she wasn’t really a goddess, was she? Her mother claimed just because she shared god blood didn’t mean she had the powers to be one. Kore was the maiden daughter of the harvest goddess and had little more powers than a nymph herself.
Sometimes she thought it was better this way. At least no one expected her to grant healing wishes. And no one prayed to her.
Mortal prayers always felt like they were a shackle around her mother’s wrists. Demeter was constantly going to whoever prayed for her help and worrying about what she could do for the family. When she failed, the fields all withered with her sadness.
Gods weren’t infallible, Kore had learned a long time ago. Sometimes they made mistakes. And sometimes, in her mother’s case, they just weren’t powerful enough to prevent every wound to mortal men.
Cyane’s bubbling laugh broke through her morose thoughts. “Kore! Come on!”
The Temple of Artemis should have been cleaned by mortals, and perhaps it was sometimes. Her priestesses were certainly wandering around all the time. Unless the nymphs were coming, of course. Then they were scarce.
Demeter thought it was helpful for her daughter and the others to learn mortal work. So here she was, with a mop and a bucket, learning with the nymphs.
Catching up with the others, she handed a mop to one of the other naiads and asked, “Do you know where Mother is today?”
“She’s visiting with Hermes!” A naiad shouted, only to freeze when one of her sisters slapped her shoulder.
Ah.
The truth came out.
Demeter always seemed to host Olympians on the days she sent Kore away to clean temples. Her mother was a very shrewd woman who’d kept her daughter away from the gazes of gods. Sometimes it was good and other times, Kore wanted to tear her hair out at the root.
She shoved an angry growl back into her throat. She wouldn’t react or the nymphs would tell her mother all about it. The only one she could trust was Cyane, and that was only because the naiad didn’t want to get her in trouble. Otherwise, who else would she get into trouble with? No other goddesses paid attention to her.
Kore held the bucket for the nearest nymph to drop the mop into. “Hermes is visiting today? Why?”
One by one, the nymphs and naiads dunked their own mops into the bucket and moved all the way to the end of the temple. They started the farthest away from her that they could, their lips sealed and no more secrets accidently spilled.
She looked at Cyane. “Are you not allowed to say either?”
“If I knew, I’d tell you.” She brushed her inky hair off her shoulder. “Your mother stopped telling me things years ago.”
Probably centuries if they were being honest with each other. Demeter was older than the earth, and Kore was nearly just as old. Of course, her mother didn’t see her as aged at all. She was the daughter.
The maiden.
The girl who would always be a girl, no matter how womanly she became.
She gestured to the bucket. “Are we cleaning today or sneaking off?”
Another voice interrupted them. “I would hope you complete your duties before seeking entertainment elsewhere.”
Kore knew that voice better than any other. Sighing, she turned around. “Mother. I thought you were meeting with Hermes.”
Demeter stood behind her in full goddess regalia. Her robes were made of the finest gold silk with strands of metal running through them. Her hair was twisted perfectly, every curl set exactly as she wanted them. Her piercing green eyes sliced through Kore’s very bones, but at least they weren’t sparking with anger. The golden laurel threaded through Demeter’s hair cast sunspots on the marble floor of the temple.
Kore would never be as beautiful as her mother. She knew that. Everyone knew that. Demeter might have been the daughter of the sun, but she’d created a bland child who still wore her hair like a little girl.
Her mother speared a glare toward the nymphs huddled in a corner.