Atalanta

by Jennifer Saint

Artemis sighed with contentment as the midday sun caught her in its glow, highlighting her upturned face, the curve of her shoulders, and her breasts. It was a moment so beautiful, so harmonious, that I think all of us were suspended in it.

“I swore never to marry,” I said at last. “And you’re happy to keep that vow?” “Of course I am. Why would I want a husband?” She laughed. “Most of us never imagined a life without one.

“But you aren’t in your father’s power anymore,” I said. “You can choose your own husband—or you can choose to have none at all.”