The clashing of steel reverberated throughout the arena. To Diana, it brought an odd uptick in her heart. She was the goddess of wild animals and the hunt, the moon, fertility, childbirth, and children—not war. No one expected her to rejoice in the chaos and brutality of battle. Still, it held an allure to her otherwise sweet nature.

She sometimes envied her brothers, particularly Ares—the god of war. He always returned to Mount Olympus blood-splattered, with a vicious smile that transformed his otherwise serious features. When she had been much younger, he used to spend hours regaling her with stories of battles and his victories. Even her twin, Apollo—the god of light—was a great warrior, renowned for his heroics.

She, however, was just a girl.

But that was all in the past. Still young—for an immortal—she was no longer considered a child to be coddled. Diana had passed the time for daydreams and play. She was expected to live up to her duty to preside over the hunt, protect the hunters, aid in fertility for the women, and safeguard children. None of that required strapping on a sword and shield. Instead, her weapons were her bow and arrows, and her empathy for humanity across all the realms.

Diana swept around the wide columns leading to the coliseum and took a step toward the large balcony reserved for Zeus and his family. The brilliant sun refracted off the warriors’ shields, momentarily blinding her. Her foot missed the step down and she stumbled, tripped over the hem of her ivory gown, and landed with a smack at the bottom step leading up to her father’s oversized throne.

“Dammit.”

A rough hand jerked her up until she was eye-level with obviously annoyed amber eyes—the color of honey straight from the hive. “Sister, you are late, as usual. And a pillar of virtue such as yourself should not be cursing.”

For a moment, she was paralyzed. Yes, she was not permitted to utter foul language. Her brothers could, but it was forbidden to her and her sisters—at least in public. However, it was a bit of a shock that it was her own twin scolding her so harshly. He was the one who’d taught her all those words in the first place.

Apollo’s lips quirked up on one side, followed by strong arms pulling her in for a crushing embrace. “Got you good that time, didn’t I?” he whispered, before letting her go. “But seriously, you’re lucky Father is too enthralled with the war games. If he had heard you, it would be another vacation with Uncle Hades. It’s Persephone’s time topside, so he’s not in a jolly mood, either.”

She punched him playfully on the shoulder, just beneath the ends of his glorious hair that rivaled the beauty and radiance of the sun itself. Whereas he was the epitome of the golden child, she’d somehow ended up pale as ivory, with hair the color of flames. The only attribute they had in common were their golden amber eyes.

“Yes, I would appreciate a better climate for my next sojourn. The last time I was there, my skin burned, blistered, peeled off, and my hair frizzed outward like one of Father’s bolts of lightning had struck me. No. Thank. You. I’ll pass on a repeat trip.”

She pulled him into another embrace, clinging to him with all her strength. It had been eons since they had been together. He had been across the realms, imposing his own brand of justice, while she had endured the gods’ version of a finishing school for girls. She’d learned all the proper attributes for a female god—balance, dancing, nursing, and proper protocol when addressing other gods and even mortals. The one redeeming feature had been learning all aspects of hunting. It was the closest she’d ever get to fighting like a warrior.