Cora was captured by the magic of the night even before the God worked his spell to take them to Olympus. The sands of the beach were glowing embers beneath the moon, and the rhythm of the waves created music Cora had never heard equal to.

Her father couldn't have planned this when he intended her to leave the city. But away from the noise and the lights, out of sight from the world, lost in a secret fantasy which was too precious to be real, she never wanted to go back. Not to the city, not to who she was, hurt and guarded. She went straight from feeling too much, to being hurt and defensive and afraid to feel anything at all. If Cora hadn't almost drowned tonight, then everything would have been perfect. No, even so, she needed the thrill and the fear to break through her defenses and wake her to the possibilities of the moment. Cora marveled at her own courage and tranquility as she said:

"I will go anywhere you take me."

Staring up at the tall God, as pale as the moon with a light of his own, it was impossible to be afraid.

"First let me ask why you trust me?" Apollo asked her cautiously.

"I suppose it's silly, isn't it? I've heard all sorts of stories of the trouble that mortals get up to when they get involved with Gods.”

"I've lived them. It doesn't end well." His voice rolled slow and deep, heavy with regret.

"Maybe I don't trust you at all. But I've decided -- decided tonight, actually, that I do trust myself. I've been right all night after all: I was right about what the sailor wanted before he chased me. I was right about feeling the storm, even without clouds in the sky. And I'm right about this: that I would rather be unsafe with you than safe anywhere else."

Apollo took Cora suddenly by the hand to lead her. He seemed shocked by his own action, pausing to stare at their hands clasped together. Then without looking at her, he briskly pulled Cora along the beach.

"The way to Olympus is secret from mortals. Will you still trust me if you must make the journey blind?"

Cora tensed for a moment, but relaxed within Apollo's strong grip. "I will."

"Then I shall trust you to close your eyes and keep them shut. I would not cover your face with cloth -- I wish to look at it upon the journey."

Apollo led Cora onto the trunk of a fallen olive tree at the edge of the sand. He walked behind, putting a hand on each of her hips to help her balance. The fresh bark was smooth beneath her bare feet. Her toes crunched and gripped for balance. She was vaguely conscious that the old her would be so afraid of falling and making a fool of herself that she would never risk it. But vague thoughts were no match for her simple joy, her smile so wide and persistence that it was beginning to hurt.

"Then close your eyes. You're going to count ten steps, then we'll be off."

Cora did as he said. His hands released her suddenly, and she flailed in the open air for a moment. She didn't open her eyes despite the moment of panic. An instant later, Apollo caught her by the hand again, holding her arm as he led her down the length of the trunk.

"One, two, three," he began counting in time with her steps.

"You were testing me to see if I would open my eyes! Don't do that!" Cora exclaimed, half amused, half annoyed.

"Four, five, six."

"I'm not going to have to walk to Olympus, will I?"

"Seven, eight, nine." Apollo continued counting, his voice rising and falling in a melodic chant. Cora fell silent, suddenly aware that she might be disrupting the spell. The tree trunk wasn't that long though, and she was surprised not to have fallen off the end yet.

"Ten."

The largest wave yet crashed against the shore as he spoke the word. Cora flinched at the cold spray of water which reached her all the way at the back of the beach. She kept her eyes clenched tight though. Keeping her word had never been so important to her before. The silence was unbearable though, because she could feel him staring at her. She could do nothing to hide.

"Well?" Cora asked at last.

Then she noticed -- there was no bark beneath her feet anymore. She took another step, gingerly, feeling a gentle cushion of air harden to catch her weight. Cora gripped Apollo's hand more tightly now, then both of her hands wrapped around his forearm. Her stomach lurched, her heart already nowhere to be found, she felt herself rising into the air. A cool breeze blew up, whipping her damp skirt around her legs, her wounded wings fluttering to still bear her on this miraculous flight.

"How far is Olympus?" Cora had to raise her voice to be heard above the mounting wind.

"I forgot. Mortals are very concerned with that sort of thing."

Again the cautiousness creeping into his voice. The way he said mortal, as though it were some dirty word. It made Cora more afraid than her blind flight, or the angry ocean. It was enough to make her catch her breath, listening for old doubts in forgotten dungeons rattling their chains.

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How easy it would be for a God to forget her. Whatever magic this night held for her, it was probably a very ordinary night for a God. He might save the lives of ten girls a week, just for the fun of it.

"Have you known many mortals?" Cora asked, needing to know and wishing she never found out.

"Of course. Over the years."

"I don't mean have you met any. I mean, have you really known any. Well enough to know what it's like to be mortal? Have you ever loved one?"

There was a long silence. Cora wanted nothing more than to open her eyes to see what was in his face. Had his smooth brow furrowed in pain at a memory, eternally outlasting the one who inspired it? Was it disgust, his noble lip drawn into a sneer? Or perhaps his lips were parted in wonder, as he stared at her and saw the possibilities a mortal could promise, which had never occurred to him before.

"Yes, I loved one. It was a mistake."

"What happened to her?" Cora pressed.

"Hera turned her into a white stag."

"That doesn't sound so bad." Silence. Cora giggled. "Sorry. That must have been very difficult. Did you keep her as a pet?"

"You don't seem very concerned about the risk of what might happen to you."

"It's only a risk if you're at risk of loving me."

Apollo laughed. The sound was a barrier to the cold wind of their flight. She had the burning urge to open her eyes again. At the same time, there was a quiet confidence of being blind, throwing out her words and trusting they find their mark.

"Oh Cora, it is more than a risk. I have seen Goddesses with less confidence than you."

"What are they like? The Goddesses. Their skin and hair must be absolutely perfect. They probably don't even need makeup."

Apollo chuckled.

"They are proud, and cold, and clever. Always planning, or scheming something, never quite what they appear."

"Like you, you mean."

"I'm sorry. I did not mean to be cold to you. I suppose I was a bit in shock too."

"Then why didn't you kiss me after you saved me?"

Apollo laughed again. There was a helpless exasperation in it that Cora very much liked. It made her feel like his defenses to her were breaking and being hurled to the wind.

She hadn't expected anything when she said it. With her eyes closed, she had no warning until his breath was on her face. Taking her other hand, he swung her through the air as though in dance. Then the salt of his lips, as soft as the clouds heavy with rain, brushing against hers. She did not draw back, nor move forward, nor dare to breathe as he pressed his mouth firmly against hers. And then he was gone, letting go with one hand and letting her spin into the empty air, so that only the strength in his fingers kept her from becoming a spinning meteor towards the ground.

"That will have to last until we arrive."

"And when we arrive?" Cora asked breathlessly.

"Mortals are so impatient." Apollo laughed. It came so easy to him now, bubbling out of him like ecstasy. Apollo spoke more freely after that. He told her about Olympus, its marble pillars, its golden halls. He told her of the statues which dance to the singing nymphs. Of the great fires which rage day and night, and the banquets thrown by Dionysus, with rivers of wine and cascading falls from the mountain tops. He told her of its gardens which hung from the walls and ran wild for miles around the secret palace, and Cora was mesmerized.

Soon she began to breathe the heavy fragrance of the air. They were slowing now, the wind growing warmer and mild. They must be closer to the ground, although it seemed that they only increased their elevation through the entirety of the journey. Olympus must be high in the mountains, although she wouldn't mention even this trivial observation, knowing the location to be secret.

"You can open your eyes now. Thank you for keeping your word."

Cora did so, breaking the crystals of frozen tears which formed during their flight. They were passing low over jagged stony peaks of mountain tops. Heavy clouds hung about them. They descended through pastel clouds of lavender and light blue and pink, revealing a vast forest of wild and tangled gardens. Fields of oleander bushes ran rampant, their blossoms smoldering colored smoke of red and pink and white to rise and join the scented clouds.

"I thought Olympus was a palace? Where are the marble pillars? Or the banquet actually sounds best. I haven't eaten anything since before I boarded the ship this morning.” This morning! Had it really been so recently? An entire lifetime seemed to have passed since then.

Cora’s feet grazed the grass for several seconds before touching the earth, so gently did they descend. What appeared to be low shrubs from the air distorted in perspective, seeming to grow out to reach them until they rose above as strange trees with twisted limbs.

Softly glowing orbs hung from the branches, more spirits than they were fruit.

"This is as close as I will bring you, or else you will be seen."

Apollo let go of her hand. He stepped back to stare at her, saying nothing. Behind him the horizon was beginning to lighten with the first promise of morning.

"What are you looking at now? Didn't you get enough chance for that on the journey?"

"Not on a hundred journeys," the God replied.

He looked as though he wanted to say more, but they were interrupted by the face of a woman forming in one of the twisted trees. A knot in the bark parted to reveal emerald green eyes, and lips like autumn's glory. With a dry old voice, the tree asked:

"Where have you been all night, Apollo?"

"Quiet nymph," Apollo commanded in a voice much harder than he’d used with Cora. A voice that was accustomed to being obeyed without question.

"Who have you got with you?" the nymph pressed suspiciously. "I don't recognize her as one of your usuals."

"One of your usuals? And pray, dear Apollo, how many times do you usually catch a girl when you go fishing?”

"The nymph doesn't mean it that way. She will mind her own business, if she knows what's best for her."

"I know I'm safe with you. I'm not going to hide. I want to see the palace. And don't forget that mortals really do need to eat!"

"Mortal? Did she say mortal?" the nymph cried shrill.

"Cora!" Apollo scolded.

"What? I'm sorry, I thought she knew. When she said you bring others..."

"Not mortals!" Apollo howled.

But it was too late. More faces were forming in the trees. The whispered word ‘mortal’ ran between them as wind through the leaves.

"Mortal... mortal... mortal..." The words came louder and louder as they bounced back and forth, one tree to the next, then onto two more, then back to the first who repeated it louder. A storm in the forest, building from whispers to shrieking cries. The morning peace was shattered, and every God and creature within miles could not help but be woken.

"I'm sorry!" Cora wailed. She had felt so safe, so confident, so sure. She wasn't thinking, and now it was too late. Clumsy, stupid, just the same as she’d always been.

"Mortal! Mortal! Mortal!"

The entire tangled garden shouted the evil word. The heavy air bludgeoning them with the accusing cry. The alarm was out. There was no going back. Love’s spell a fragile thing which shatters in the morning light.