down, and she had hooves instead of feet, except for the extraordinary muscles in her lower body she was otherwise built very much like a human female. So she needed a garment that would allow her the freedom to exercise the inhuman speed with which she had been gifted, as well as keep her decently covered. Etain and her daughter had experimented with many different styles before happening upon one that successfully accomplished both needs.
The result had worked well, except that it left so much of Elphame’s body visible. It mattered little that the women of Partholon had always been free to proudly display their bodies. Etain regularly bared her breasts during blessing rituals to signify Epona’s love of the female form. When Elphame uncovered her hoofed legs, people stared in outright shock and awe at the sight of the Chosen’s so obviously Goddess-touched body.
Elphame loathed being the recipient of the stares.
So it had become habit for Elphame to dress conservatively in public, only shedding her flowing robes when she ran, which was almost always alone and well away from the temple.
“Oh, I found it!” El cried, and trotted over to a log not far from where they stood.
She picked up the length of fine linen that had been dyed the color of emeralds and began winding it around her slim waist. Her breathing had already returned to normal; the fine sheen of sweat that had caused the downy hair on her bare arms to glisten had already dried.
She was in spectacular shape. Her body was sleek, athletic and perfectly honed, but there was nothing harsh or masculine about its casing. Her lovely brown skin looked silky and seductively touchable; it was only after actually touching her that the finely wrapped strength of the muscles beneath the skin could be fully realized.
But few people dared to touch the young goddess.
She was tall, towering several inches over her mother’s five-foot-seven-inch frame. During early puberty she had been thin and a little awkward, but soon the curves and fullness of womanhood had replaced that coltishness. Her lower body was a perfect mixture of human and centaur. She had the beauty and allure of a woman, and the strength and grace of a centaur.
Etain smiled at her daughter. As from the moment of her birth, she had embraced Elphame’s uniqueness with a fierce, protective love. “You don’t have to wear that wrap, El.” She hadn’t realized she had spoken her thought aloud until her daughter looked quickly up at her.
“I know you do not think I need to.” Her voice, usually so like her mother’s, suddenly hardened with suppressed emotion. “But I have to. It is not the same for me. They do not look upon me as they do you.”
“Has someone said something to hurt you? Tell me who it is and he will know the wrath of a goddess!” Green fire flashed in Etain’s eyes.
Elphame’s voice lost all expression as she answered her mother. “They do not need to say anything, Mama.”
“Precious one—” the anger melted from Etain’s eyes “—you know the people love you.”
“No, Mama.” She held up her hand to stop her mother from interrupting. “They love you. They idolize and worship me. It is not the same thing.”
“Of course they worship you, El. You are the eldest daughter of the Beloved of Epona, and you have been blessed by the Goddess in a very special way. They should worship you.”
The mare moved forward until her muzzle lipped the young woman’s shoulder. Before she answered, El reached around the mare’s head to stroke her gleaming neck.
She looked up at her mother and said with a conviction that made her sound older than her years, “I am different. And no matter how badly you want to believe that I fit in, it’s just not the same for me. That is why I must leave.”
Etain’s stomach clenched at her daughter’s words, but she forced herself to remain silent and allow her to continue.
“I’m treated like I am a thing apart. Not that I’m treated badly,” she added quickly, “just apart. Like I’m something they are afraid to get too close to because I might…” Here she faltered and laid her cheek against the broad forehead of the silver mare. “…I don’t know…might shatter. Or perhaps cause them to shatter. So they treat me like I am a statue that has come miraculously to life right in front of them.”
My beautiful, lonely daughter, Etain thought, feeling the familiar ache of not having the solution to end her firstborn’s pain.
“But statues aren’t loved, not really. They’re cared for and kept in a place of honor, but they aren’t loved.”
“I love you.” Etain’s voice sounded choked.
“Oh, I know, Mama!” Her head flew up and her eyes met her mother’s. “You and Da, and Cuchulainn and Finegas and Arianrhod all love me. You have to, you’re my family,” she added with a quick smile. “But even your private guards, who adore you unquestioningly and would give their lives for either of us, believe I am something essentially untouchable.”
The mare moved a step forward and El leaned against the side of the horse. Etain ached to take her daughter in her arms, but she knew that the young woman would stiffen and tell her she was no longer a child, so she contented herself with stroking her satin hair, willing Epona’s comfort from her hands into her daughter’s body.
“That’s why you came out here today, wasn’t it?” El asked quietly.
“Yes,” her mother responded simply. “I wanted to try one more time to talk you out of going.” Etain paused thoughtfully before she spoke again. “Why not stay here and take my place, El?”
Her daughter jolted upright and started to shake her head violently from side to side, but Etain doggedly continued.
“I have had a long, rich reign. I am ready to retire.”
“No!” Elphame’s voice was adamant. Just the thought of taking her mother’s place sent a thread of panic through her. “You are not ready to retire! Look at you. You look decades younger than your age. You love performing the rituals of Epona, and the people need you to continue. And you must remember the most important thing, Mama. The spirit realm is closed to me. I have never heard Epona’s voice or felt the touch of her magic…” The sadness of the truth of her words settled resolutely on Elphame’s face. “I have never felt any magic at all.”
“But Epona speaks to me of you often,” Etain said softly, touching her daughter’s cheek. “Her hand has been upon you since before your birth.”
“I know. I know the Goddess loves me, but I am not her Chosen One.”
“Not yet,” her mother added.
Elphame’s only response was to lean against the warm familiarity of the horse’s neck while the mare nuzzled her affectionately.
“I still do not understand why you must leave.”
“Mama,” Elphame said, turning her head so she could look up at her mother. “You sound like I am traveling to the other side of the world.” She raised one dark eyebrow in exasperation, which her mother always thought made her look so much like her father.
Etain’s answering smile was sardonic. From the moment of each of their births, she had been devoted to her
