The Goddess Test

Praise forTHE GODDESS TEST

‘A fresh take on the Greek myths adds sparkle

to this romantic fable.’ —Cassandra Clare

‘Enchanting and compulsively readable, The Goddess Test twists classic myth and modern storytelling into a fun, whimsical shape. A great story for teen girls.’ —Melissa Anelli, New York Times bestselling author

‘The prize is immortality,’ Henry said.

‘It’s not something we give out lightly, and we need to make sure it is something you can handle.’

I felt a cold block of ice form in the pit of my stomach. So my choices now were to live forever or die trying. Somehow it didn’t seem fair.

‘You will do well,’ Henry said. ‘I can feel it. And afterwards, you will help me do something that no one else is capable of doing. You will have power beyond imagining, and you will never fear death again. You will never grow old and you will always be beautiful. You will have eternal life to spend as you wish.’

But would I have my mother?

* * * * *

In one way or another, everyone who has ever been a significant part of my life has helped me down this path, and I’m grateful for everything. I’d like to acknowledge the following people in particular:

Rosemary Stimola, my lovely agent who never gives up. Thank you for taking a chance on me. Mary-Theresa Hussey, my amazing editor, and Natashya Wilson, my Senior Editor. You’ve both been wonderfully supportive, and I’m so excited to continue this journey with you.

The many teachers I’ve had over the years, especially Terry Brooks, Jim Burnstein, Kathy Churchill, Larry Francis, Wendy Gortney, Kim Henson, Chris Keane, Bob Mayer, Mike Sack and John Saul. By teaching me how to tell a story, you showed me who I am. Shannon and John Tullius. Your tireless support gave me hope that maybe I wasn’t as terrible as I thought I was. Sarah Reck and Caitlin Straw, the two best friends and first readers I could ever ask for. Melissa Anelli, the world’s greatest cheerleader.

And Jo, who changed my life just by living hers.

Thank you all so much for everything.

The

Goddess Test

Aimée Carter

www.miraink.co.uk

For Dad, who has read every word.

You were right.

And in memory of my mother

“How did it happen this time?”

Henry tensed at the sound of her voice, and he tore his eyes away from the lifeless body on the bed long enough to look at her. Diana stood in the doorway, his best friend, his confidante, his family in every way except by blood, but even her presence didn’t help rein in his temper.

“Drowned,” said Henry, turning back to the body. “I found her floating in the river early this morning.”

He didn’t hear Diana move toward him, but he felt her hand on his shoulder. “And we still don’t know …?”

“No.” His voice was sharper than he’d intended, and he forced himself to soften it. “No witnesses, no footprints, no traces of anything to indicate she didn’t jump in the river because she wanted to.”

“Maybe she did,” said Diana. “Maybe she panicked. Or maybe it was an accident.”

“Or maybe somebody did this to her.” He broke away, pacing the room in an attempt to get as far from the body as possible. “Eleven girls in eighty years. Don’t tell me this was an accident.”

She sighed and brushed her fingertips across the girl’s white cheek. “We were so close with this one, weren’t we?”

“Bethany,” snapped Henry. “Her name was Bethany, and she was twenty-three years old. Now because of me, she’ll never see twenty-four.”

“She never would have if she’d been the one.”

Fury rose up inside of him and threatened to bubble over, but when he looked at her and saw compassion in her eyes, his anger drained away.

“She should have passed,” he said tightly. “She should have lived. I thought—”

“We all did.”

Henry sank into a chair, and she was by his side in an instant, rubbing his back in the sort of motherly gesture he expected from her. He tangled his fingers in his dark hair, his shoulders hunched with the familiar weight of grief. How much more of this was he supposed to endure before they finally released him?

“There’s still time.” The hope in Diana’s voice stabbed at him, more painful than anything else that had happened that morning. “We still have decades—”

“I’m done.”

His words rang through the room as she stood still next to him, her breathing suddenly ragged and uneven. In the several seconds it took for her to respond, he considered taking it back, promising he would try again, but he couldn’t. Too many had already died.

“Henry, please,” she whispered. “There’s twenty years left. You can’t be done.”

“It won’t make a difference.”

She knelt in front of him and pulled his hands from his face, forcing him to look at her and see her fear. “You promised me a century, and you will give me a century, do you understand?”

“I won’t let another one die because of me.”

“And I won’t let you fade, not like this. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

He scowled. “And what will you do? Find another girl who’s willing? Bring another candidate to the manor every year until one passes? Until one makes it past