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“You swore off romantic love,” Artemis said, looking in her eyes, and then in Jo’s. “Both of you.”
“We did,” she found herself saying quietly.
“And yet,” her lady said, and her voice was barely above a whisper.
Jo sighed, and they both knew now that it was just a matter of when not if for the blow to come. Hemithea had become immortal, when she had been sure that her father would strike her dead. Now it was that still, only from another.
“You cannot remain hunters. But there is a place you can go. In service to me.”