Up close, Athena could detect the mark of divinity on the young woman. It was muted – the whisper of a shared bloodline rather than the full-throated song of true immortality – but it was unmistakeable. The girl was family.
That part was not especially uncommon. Her pantheon had produced more than their share of demigods over the ages, and Athena, as both a patron of heroes and one long accustomed to cleaning up her family's messes, endeavoured to keep tabs on them where she could. Most she simply observed from a distance, sometimes delivering an anonymous nudge in one direction or another. On rare occasions, when a child showed particular promise – or particular instability – she might be moved to intervene personally.
Marcie had not been on Athena's radar, and that in itself made her an intriguing little mystery. More so, because as the girl spoke, bright-eyed and brimming with eagerness, Athena was able to place that whisper of an aura in the faint coppery tang it left on her tongue.
A daughter of Ares.
Interesting.
Athena smiled pleasantly. "You flatter me. Of course, by all means. I must admit, you've piqued my curiosity."