Spoken Like an Ancient

by Rebecca Jane

Prometheus, I'm cold. Can't you... please? Tonight, the high priest departs on a barge of wild lilies. We have the Temple of Folly all to ourselves. What do you say? You scratch my hubris, and I'll scratch yours?


Rebecca Jane, author of The Vow, writes fiction to stay out of trouble. She always grins. She sometimes fails. She never squeals.