Curses of Olympus (The Olympus Trilogy #2)

6. Arachne

6

ARACHNE

I cannot believe this is my life. Day in and day out, doing nothing but guarding this stupid goddess.

Dropping down from her perch on one of the grand beams of the abandoned temple, Arachne releases enough web to bring her softly to the ground. Having spent countless years on this island, hidden from the world, it is a miracle she has yet to go mad.

Soft humming carries through the large chamber from one of the back rooms, and Arachne hisses at the sound.

How dare she be happy. How dare she not be just as miserable as I am. Who pissed off Athena more? The goddess imprisoned here, or the beautiful girl turned into a spider and forced to be her jailor?

Every time Arachne lays eyes on Hera, it is a reminder that this is her unfortunate fate. All because she had the audacity to claim she could weave as well as Athena.

I was the absolute best at my craft for a human. Are the gods really so vain that they do not understand hyperbole?

A glimpse of her spider form in one of the broken mirrors along the wall is all the answer she needs.

The humming gets closer to the sanctuary, and Arachne ducks behind a shattered statue of a long-forgotten goddess.

Golden rays beam into the space from open spots in the ceiling, but the effect is more radiant than depressing. Despite the nature of this prison, it is hard to deny its beauty at times. Beauty that seems to grow and thrive in every nook and cranny as if the place possesses its own ancient magic.

Perhaps this is simply how lush and wonderful the world would be if the Pantheon was not running things.

The soft padding of Hera’s sandals heralds her arrival into the room, and despite her disdain for the goddess, Arachne pokes her head out slightly to get a glimpse of her.

Hera’s satiny brown skin is smooth, and her coral dress clings to her lush curves. Everything about this goddess exudes feminine. The sight stirs longing and anger in Arachne. Looking at Hera’s vivacious curls makes Arachne remember her own; a paler brown than the goddess’s but much longer.

The two of them have spent countless years on this island, but the time does nothing to dull the memory of being in her human body.

“I know you’re there. You can come out, you know?” Hera’s voice is soft with a lilt, gentle as if she is coaxing a scared child.

If Arachne were still in her human form, a squeak of shock would have undoubtedly left her. In this spider form, there is nothing but startled silence. She almost skitters angrily out of the room but instead comes to a halt.

I will not run from her presence. She is my prisoner, not the opposite. It might not be by choice, but Fates damnit, I will no longer tiptoe around someone stupid enough to piss off Athena even more than I did.

Arachne’s spider steps are silent as she comes out from behind the statue ruins, moving into one of the light beams and letting Hera really see her. This eternity they have spent together has been a separate one, with Arachne always lurking and watching, resenting from afar.

When her reflection catches her eye again, Arachne looks and imagines she is Hera examining this creature for the first time.

What does she see when she looks at me?

The sun rays shine off her opaque white exoskeleton, and it shimmers an iridescent blue and green as the light shifts over it. Arachne’s multiple eyes stare at her reflection.

Perhaps I am not so horrific.

Hera takes a step toward Arachne, and it snaps her out of her thoughts.

That single moment of vulnerability makes her feel raw and exposed, like a nerve fraying endlessly. It is disgusting, and Arachne shudders beneath the feeling.

Without caring how it will make Hera feel, Arachne races out of the sanctuary and out to the overgrown abandoned gardens, letting herself get lost in the smells of the wildflowers as they brush against her many legs.