Page 39 of This Divine Revelry

‘How long have you known?’

‘I’ve suspected since you reminded me of Helios’s lineage within the Cretan royal family.’ He taps Sterope and the creature stalks forward, closing in on me while he leans against a wooden post. ‘You don’t tan or burn, you rise with the dawn and when you’re angry I could have sworn your eyes flare, a hint of fire and a promise to lay waste to all in your path.’

I straighten, refusing to give in to his intimidation, even as the panther pushes its head into my knee like it would herd me backwards.

Trapped by Sterope, Dionysus starts forward too until he is before me.

‘But I haven’t known until, well …’ He reaches towards me, thumb brushing over the groove in my shoulder. Every part of me tenses beneath his touch but I don’t move away. Healed, the skin there is rough and scarred, and I can barely feel the press of his thumb against it. But I know the weight of his hand, the tender caress, and I shiver all the more for the ghost of his touch.

‘An arrow,’ he says softly. ‘That must have hurt.’

‘Not as much as cauterizing it did.’

He looks at me sharply, outrage flashing its own sun in his eyes. His hand falls to his side.

‘So,’ I ask. ‘What now?’

‘I think perhaps you should tell me what really happened. The truth at last. And you should probably pet Sterope or she’s going to bowl you over.’

I glance down at the panther, now rubbing her face against my shin. I reach for her, the soft fur beneath my hand, and she gives a rumbling purr.

‘She’s sensitive to emotional distress,’ he adds, crossing to the table to pour out two cups of wine. ‘So she’ll be insisting on affection until you feel better. Though say the word and I can fetch one of your friends instead.’ He pushes a cup towards me. ‘I told you, if you’re running from something, you’re safe here. And unlike some of these demigod upstarts, I take my word seriously.’

I eye the cup – seeing it for what it is. An offer of hospitality. And, if taken, an expectation I’ll tell him the truth.

I hesitate.

‘Ariadne, do I need to get the pine cone staff of sharing?’

‘Take this seriously,’ I snap. ‘The last time I trusted someone, I ended up here.’

‘There we are: if you’re annoyed with me, I know you’re going to be alright.’

‘I’ll be annoyed with you even when they recite my funerary rites.’

But it must work, because I sit and take the cup.

Sterope repositions herself by my side, and every time I stop petting her she pushes her head against my hand like she might do it herself.

‘So,’ Dionysus says. ‘What happened?’

I tell him everything – from that first sacrifice to my anticipation of the last. The need to make it all stop. And I tell him about Theseus – the way he swanned into the palace like he’d already bested the beast, and the murky deal we’d agreed on in the hollows of the palace. The way he’d used me as a shield, but hadn’t abandoned me, not yet, not until he’d solidified my tale. ‘I think he left me when I was shot in the hope I’d bleed out,’ I say. ‘When I survived, it created quite a conundrum for him. I was under his hospitality. I’d saved his life. But once I’d ruined myself? Well, then he was within his rights to leave me behind.’ I don’t quite manage the words without hurt. My flippancy doesn’t stop them lodging in my throat like they would choke me, and I race on. ‘Anyway, that’s not important now. I’m sorry for wasting your time.’

I stand but Dionysus does too, and as I step to move past him, he clasps my wrist.

‘You’re not wasting my time, Ariadne. You are what time is for. Of all the islands for you to be left on? The mark of the Fates is here somewhere. So let’s discuss it. I might be able to help.’

By now, the revelry outside has quieted and it feels like we might be the only two people awake in the entire world. Even Sterope snoozes by my feet.

‘I can’t let him marry my sister. He left me here to die – what if he does worse to her?’

‘The same sister who betrayed you?’

‘Yes,’ I say softly, because I could say if she hadn’t and Father found out that she knew, he’d have killed her or it was in her best interest, and we grew up in a palace where all you could do was survive or simply she is my father’s daughter but none of it would encapsulate the web of sacrifice and obligation and mutual suffering and the same stories filling our heads and once, just once, her fingers skimming along an aulos and me dancing to her beat. There are so many words for love, so many kinds, and yet not one for this twisted thing – a love like you are mine to protect and mine to hurt and I understand the worst of you and I love the possibility of you, that one day we might be more than this.

The sort of love that means no matter who she is or what she did, I cannot let Theseus anywhere near her.

I do not truly care that she betrayed me or that I was shot, because I would take an arrow for her every time.