The Goddess by Robyn Grady Read Free Book Online

empty. The sound of water pipes told him that Helene was running a bath. Having walked
     around the island for hours, freshening up sounded like a fine idea.
    After a cool shower, he wrapped the towel around his hips and strolled out into his
     bedroom. Automatically, his gaze landed on the vault. Every day he brought the figurine
     out and enclosed her again before leaving his quarters. Back at the palace, she would
     also be safely locked away. By the time he needed to return her here to this island,
     that cave would have been cleared and reinforced.
    But more and more, Darius balked at leaving the figurine alone in that chamber again.
    He could have workers sign confidentiality agreements, but he feared the cave’s location
     would be leaked. Suspicion behind the reason for the reinforcement would no doubt
     spread. Perhaps the press would pick up on rumors, sniff around, ask questions. Despite
     a regular sea patrol to keep the island safe, it was a miracle the cave and its hidden
     treasure had remained a secret this long.
    Stepping into trousers, Darius recalled what Helene had said days before. These were,
     indeed, different times. His people enjoyed modern conveniences, modern points of
     view. They were well-educated and aware of the world. Society had evolved.
    But traditions were valued and maintained because they provided some sense of stability
     in an unpredictable world. Customs and beliefs were central to identity. To national
     pride.
    The mystery surrounding the goddess and her powers, which were linked to harmony and
     longevity, was important to his heritage. Still, was it time to tweak logistics and
     perhaps release the figurine from her confinement like Helene had suggested?
    Darius’s father had taught his eldest never to underestimate lessons from the past,
     though. The riot that had cost so many lives a hundred years ago was a perfect example.
     When he’d told Yanni Kostas of his decision to keep Helene on the island, his friend
     and advisor had subtly reminded him of expected tradition, too. Darius had acknowledged
     Yanni’s concern, but he had no regrets where Helene was concerned. He still spent
     the majority of his time here alone in reflection and appreciated her help with chores
     like meals. And, yes, he appreciated her company during those clocked-off intervals
     too.
    Hiring some help during this time didn’t compare with altering what his father had
     insisted was an essential step in maintaining the throne. Would his conscience ever
     allow him to remove the fertility figurine from this island forever?
    Then again, the figurine and her powers were myth as far as the masses were concerned.
     Only four people in this world knew for certain she actually existed. In essence,
     he was the only one who stood between what had always been and change; between listening
     to common sense or bowing to superstition.
    The goddess might not be able to spin a spell, but she was a treasure that deserved
     to be protected and preserved in a twenty-first century kind of way.
    He felt sure his father would have agreed.
    Closing the door, he moved to the main room. Helene was still in her quarters, so
     he put on a CD. In the kitchen he found the platter of olives, cheese, bread, and
     meat, as well as karpoozi —watermelon—she’d prepared. On the balcony, he placed the platter between the settings
     she’d arranged on the table. Balcony torches were lit. In the middle of seeing to
     wine, he caught a movement and turned. He almost fumbled the carafe.
    A woman stood framed by a high arched doorway, looking for all the world like a Grecian
     goddess. Her abundance of flaxen hair was swept up in a classic style off the elegant
     column of her throat. Her dress could tempt a priest to break his vows. The ankle-length
     silk gown lay draped expertly around her breasts and fell from the high-cinched waist
     in perfect folds to her dainty, unadorned feet. A glittering, palm-sized pin in the
     shape