Page 113 of This Divine Revelry

And with her magic, some practicality from Myrto and some worrying excitability from Calybe and Opora – I am beginning to believe this might truly be possible.

That evening, I choose the purple chiton I wore for our wedding, threaded with silver and drawn tight with metallic bands.

I won’t deny it was selected with the thought of Dionysus’s lips still brushing my own, or the way his rings press cold against my skin when he grasps me, or the way he smiled against my throat or the thought of him back in Crete, hovering above me, his thumb drawing across my lips as he asked me if this was what I wanted. Yes. I want all of him.

I smear kohl around my eyes then, after a moment’s hesitation, add the red suns of Crete to my cheeks, then to my forehead and chin too. I do not have to leave all of my home behind.

I rub scented balms behind my ears and along my wrists – pine and myrrh, and so unapologetically him that anticipation curls tight and hot in my stomach.

‘You are radiant,’ he says from the entryway, the soft gold light of the soon-to-set sun framing him. ‘We never should have married for some ruse or mutual agreement. I should have been on my knees, begging. I should have fought, and laboured and bled just for the chance to look at you.’

It’s unfair – that I have spent a whole hour dressing and decorating myself, and he looks so striking with no preparation. If anything, the messily swept-aside strands of his hair and the slightly dishevelled drape of his chiton are more enticing, like they beg me to ruin them further.

‘You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,’ I tell him, perhaps a little too earnestly because his cheeks colour.

‘Those compliments again,’ he says, voice tight. ‘I told you I won’t know what to do with them.’

I do not look away. ‘And I told you that you know exactly what to do with them.’

His smile is a languid stretch, like he is warming up to something greater. ‘And I will. But first I’m afraid we will have to manage my family. If they come, of course.’

‘They’ll come,’ I assure him – because it is the answer he needs.

‘Well, then.’ His smile wavers, like he cannot quite believe me but is hopeful nonetheless. He holds a hand out to me, and within it is another shining purple gem. He takes the diadem from my head and presses both this stone and the one from the labyrinth within. With four jewels, our constellation begins to take shape. He returns the tiara, brushing my curls aside, and smiles. ‘Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the theatre?’

I tilt my head, feeling my brows draw tight. ‘What’s that?’

Dim lanterns lead the way to the outskirts of town where music and laughter filter out, and finally the path reveals a low stretch of field with the mountains rising sharply around it. In nooks and on ledges within the rockface, people sit – the people of Delos and visiting traders and the maenads and –

Gods.

Their divinity shines, diadems and staffs sparkling with caught firelight. They feel bigger, their voices booming across the open plane. Some have brought whole klines with them and lie reclining in splendour and gold. Some perch on the edges of their chariots. And some are yet to sit at all but are gathered round an enormous vat of wine – a golden cauldron at the edge of proceedings from which people are ladling their cups full.

‘They came,’ Dionysus says, glancing around not only at the gods he hoped might be here but at the people who have shown up just the same.

I squeeze his hand as we ascend the mountain towards them all. Higher, the ledges form natural steps, tiering to see the arena below. Then it cuts to a wide, flat plateau where people are standing, chatting amongst themselves.

‘There he is!’ A tall, broad-shouldered man strides forward. ‘What is this? A fighting pit? Some sort of combat arena? Those are mine, brother, so if you mean to put on a show of clashing swords –’

‘Ah, no, Ares,’ Dionysus hurries, raising his hands as though to placate him. ‘I promise, all violence will happen off stage.’

Instantly appeased, Ares’s face breaks with a grin. ‘Very well, then I look forward to whatever you have planned.’

‘What do you have planned?’ I whisper as Ares turns to another god.

‘Trust me.’

‘With nearly everything, but absolutely not dramatics, you’re a liability.’

He sputters. ‘Excuse me?’

‘You reach straight for the farcical! You’re not going to win them round with dolphins.’

‘And I’m supposed to believe you can do better?’ he counters, which sounds like the sort of challenge I’ve been waiting for.

‘Stick your arm out.’

‘What?’