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Authors: Clea Hantman

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T
he
throne room was still just as cold as I remembered. We still had to kneel. Polly’s hair was, indeed, looking even more smooshed than it had the last time we’d knelt here, what seemed like an eternity ago.

Hera and Daddy were arguing. We couldn’t hear what they were saying. But something was different—I could tell by the tone of their voices. Hera was yelling, but Daddy wasn’t stammering or begging or pleading. He was sitting tall. He was speaking calmly. He was acting a bit like the old daddy, the one who was in charge.

And looking at my sisters, I saw things were different with them, too. Era, though she did still look worse for wear, wasn’t trembling. Polly didn’t appear
to be angry or nervous. She was actually smiling at me. Not a joyful smile, for we didn’t know what was to become of us. But a solid, sisterly smile. A smile that said she would stand by me, by us, and even by her own self, no matter what.

We’d been separated as soon as we’d landed. With a thud, again. In the marble foyer of our home, thank goddess. The one place where we’d wanted most to be.

My lady-in-waiting, Lenora, had taken us to our rooms to wait for Daddy. He was on his way home from Ibiza, where Hera had left him and then later summoned him back to the palace. Apollo had been allowed to go, and with a nervous look in my direction, he’d taken his leave.

Now here we knelt, unable to run to our father to hug him. Awaiting our punishment. Again.

“I am taking care of this in the way I see fit,” Daddy finally boomed. Hera stiffened and shut her mouth, glaring at us as he straightened up in his throne and cleared his throat.

“Polly, Era, Thalia, please rise,” he said. He looked very serious.

“Hera has been updating me on your recent escapades. I am to understand that in addition to using magic, you have caused great chaos on earth and in the underworld, thwarting the rules of
Tartarus as well as those of your stepmother herself. Is this true?”

I took a tiny step forward. “Yes, Daddy, but—”

“No buts, young lady, let me finish.”

“You, Polly, you insulted Hera with your words and your actions, not only for the sake of your sisters but simply for yourself, because
you
wanted to. It was you, in fact, who led your sisters out of their, er, quarters in the end. Is this true?”

Polly hung her head. “Yes, Daddy.”

Hera grinned with satisfaction. I wanted to wipe it off her face.

“And you, Era. You are the one, in fact, who led your sisters out of the maze and convinced the pygmy to let you through the wall. Is that so? Hmmm?”

Era looked like she was going to start crying, but then she swallowed hard and straightened her spine. “Yes, Daddy.” Hera snorted under her breath.

Finally Daddy’s eyes rested on me. I hung my head and waited for the worst.

“And you, Thalia. You goaded your sisters into escape. It was so important to you that they get out of their punishment, you were willing to risk life and limb to help them do it. Is that so?”

I looked up and met Daddy’s eyes. His were filled with the utmost seriousness. There was no
point in arguing. He was right. I had to take responsibility for what I’d done.

“Yes, Daddy.” Hera began to cackle, actually cackle, with no attempt to hide it from Daddy or anyone else. But then Daddy did something I would never have expected. He turned to Hera and with a roar that shook the entire hall said, “Be quiet!”

Hera looked at Daddy like he had three heads. Her mouth opened and closed like the mouth of a fish gasping for water.

Daddy softened a little, added a “my dear,” and patted her on the knee. But Hera was speechless as he turned back to us.

He surveyed my sisters and me a moment longer. From me to Polly to Era and back to me. He nodded solemnly. And then, just like that, his mouth widened into a smile.

“I am so proud of you,” he whispered.

Then he opened his arms wide, and in another second my sisters and I were locked in his warm embrace.

D
addy
said we’d completed our challenges. I guess that must have been obvious to you, but to us, it was a big surprise. We’d done it when we’d least expected it.

Polly had stood up for herself—she’d done what she wanted to do for once instead of just meddling. She’d told Hera off and told her off good, expressing things she’d been keeping in forever—and not for anyone but herself.

Era had taken charge. When Polly and I had wanted her to simply follow along behind us, she’d stood firm, telling us she knew which way to go in the maze and sticking by it. She’d even saved us with her survival skills, building a fire for that gnome, I mean pygmy.

And I—I guess I had finally learned to put others before myself. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but pushing my sisters into that river, knowing that it meant I’d be left behind in Hades—I guess it was the most unselfish thing I’d ever done.

It’s funny how things work out. I guess it’s the Fates, constantly playing with us. We think things will go one way, and then they go completely the other. I mentioned this to Era, but she doesn’t agree. She said it was love, not the Fates, that got us where we are now. Apollo’s love. Our love for each other. Sometimes I’m amazed at how wise she can sound.

One thing we do know is that now that we’ve learned our lessons, we’ll never unlearn them. I can just see it—when I look at my sisters and when I take a good look at myself.

Anyway, since we did complete our challenges, Daddy managed to keep us out of Tartarus for good. Gods’ laws can’t be broken, but they can be
bent
a little, I guess. Hera, of course, was outraged. She took off the next morning for a private retreat in the Atlantian mountains, and I haven’t seen her since. I’m sure she’ll be back, but when she does return, I think I’ll be able to handle it.

The same morning she left, the morning after we’d arrived, I emerged from my room, still tired,
quietly so as not to wake my sisters. All six of our siblings had insisted on staying up all night and listening to the tales Polly, Era, and I had to tell of earth, and Hades, and how the Furies had tricked us and tormented us and how Apollo had come to earth disguised as Dylan just to rescue us.

Speaking of which, that was the reason I was up so early. I couldn’t wait to see Apollo. We had so much to talk about. Maybe now that I had my powers back, I’d just wiggle my nose and pop myself over to his—

“Thalia.”

I practically jumped out of my skin. There, in our plush foyer, the one with velvety curtains and golden columns and carpet six inches deep, was Apollo. He even looked like Apollo now. It kind of took my breath away.

“I was just coming to see you,” I said, but before I had a chance to finish my sentence, he had grabbed my hand and gently pulled me toward him. It made my knees go weak. I was now staring straight into his eyes.

“I’m way ahead of you,” he whispered, staring back at me. “I came because I have a question for you.”

I pulled back a little and smiled. There was Apollo’s mischievous grin that I loved so much—I
couldn’t believe he was in front of me. “A question?” I asked.

“I know you have a lot to do today, getting caught up with your sisters and all of that, but I was wondering if afterward, tonight…you might…want to have dinner?”

“Dinner?” I asked.

“Yes, dinner.” And then he dropped to one knee and took my hand. “Thalia, would you do me the pleasure and the honor of going out on a date with me?”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, his eyes sparkling. “It would be our first official date, you know.”

I began to smile. My first purely happy smile in who knows how long. “I’d love to,” I responded.

Then he snapped back up, and I felt it. That toe-tingling feeling. That feeling I might actually faint. I knew what was coming next.

And then, just like that, he kissed me.

And I kissed him right back.

About the Author

Clea Hantman
has written for and about teens since she was one herself. She’s worked on teen marketing campaigns for companies such as Ticketmaster, Wet Seal, Contempo, Skinmarket, and Dawls. She’s written for
Sweetie
and
Phoebe
(retailer Wet Seal’s magazines) and Transworld publications like
Skateboarding
and
Warp
…and she’s been written about in
Seventeen, YM,
and
Wired.
In addition, Clea is a Cancer who collects lunch boxes and likes to boogie.

Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

Credits

Cover illustration © 2002 by Lizzy Bromley

Cover photograph © 2002 by Barry Marcus

Cover design by Marci Senders

Cover © 2002 by HarperCollins Publishers Inc.

GODDESSES #4: LOVE OR FATE
. Copyright © 2002 by 17th Street Productions, an Alloy, Inc. company, and Clea Hantman. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Adobe Digital Edition May 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-195429-0

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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*
His name’s really Charon, but everybody calls him Charo for short. He’s the old ferryman who takes the dead into Hades on his boat.

*
The thing Polly didn’t want me to say was Tartarus. It is the worst, deepest, darkest part of Hades, and Hera has threatened to send us there more than once. It’s where the wicked spend all eternity, and it’s filled with the worst offenders—the evilest, trickiest gods and mortals. That, and the overflow from Hades central.

*
She’s known as The Lady of Wild Things, a hunter and an adventurer. She has the same gorgeous features Apollo has—the golden skin, the straight nose, the rosy lips, and the long fluttering eyelashes. She also, like her twin, has traveled the world in search of excitement and wonder—but she is far more serious than her wisecracking brother.

*
The Furies pretty much have control over Tartarus. It’s their own little corner of Hades, and they get to rule it as they see fit.

*
The Fates—Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos—have the power to control the destiny of gods and mortals alike, though they are themselves neither gods nor mortals. They are more like servants to justice; superheroes of ancient times. Gods can call on them in times of real need.

*
The answer is: The stars!

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