Page 112 of This Divine Revelry

But it is smothered by the fervour of my happiness. A feeling that coils deeper and deeper into me. And it is this yearning and this pleasure and this intense, blazing joy that sparks when I see Dionysus, or touch Dionysus or, gods, even when I think of Dionysus.

And it’s a joy that says: Yes.

That says I am not wrong this time.

But Dionysus frowns before I can voice any of this. ‘Fuck,’ he mutters, stepping out of my embrace.

‘What?’ I ask quickly – did I do something to him in that labyrinth? Hurt him somehow?

But he smiles, albeit ruefully. ‘Your belief in me. I can feel it but it’s not … sticking.’

I cross my arms like it might shield the flush dancing across my chest. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I normally get a little boost to my abilities when I’m with you –’

‘What? Since when?’

He waves me away like that is not a very important thing to know! ‘But now it’s like my power is draining straight out. I can’t hold on to it.’ He presses his fingers into his temples. ‘Which would be fine if I had time to rest and recover but I don’t want to risk that when it’s clear Perseus is making moves now.’

I press past my need to question him some more on my supposed involvement. ‘So you need a revelry?’

‘I’m honestly not sure that would be enough. A revelry where I had power to impress the attendees, sure, but without anything it’s the same challenge it ever was: needing belief for power and power for belief.’

I think of what Medea said – about how we are stronger together. And of my mother and sister, standing by my side with eyes blazing, enabling me to distract Theseus even for just a moment.

‘The only way to stop this constant need to replenish your abilities is to get power even Perseus couldn’t refute,’ I say, and I begin to pace, just as I did the steps of the labyrinth – walking the idea to its conclusion. ‘You need power because the Olympians don’t fully recognize you as one of theirs. So we get them to. We make you irrefutable.’

He scowls – and I remember his disappointment at our wedding, when only Hermes came. Am I just setting him up for more of the same?

But before I can backtrack, he nods. ‘I think they’d come. We’ve achieved too much these last few weeks to ignore. Roll in Perseus and Medea and we’ve assembled enough famous names to mark ourselves of note. And there’s nowhere they visit more than Delos anyway. It’s all in our favour.’

‘So we invite them to a revelry?’

‘No,’ he says, and a smile is growing. ‘That might get a handful of them but not all. I’m working on something new – and I think that might intrigue them. But that doesn’t change the fact I’ll have no power to dazzle them all with.’

Strangely, it’s my father who comes to mind: bodies on the walls and a beast beneath the floorboards and all those displays of power. An illusion he was clinging to.

I smile – the end of the labyrinth. The way out.

‘No one said what they were believing in had to be true.’

The thiasus are quickly drawn into the action – most helping Dionysus lure the Olympians here with a spectacle and a smaller group helping me ensure they are awed by his power when they do come.

Our plans don’t sound entirely dissimilar.

‘The gods? Here?’ Medea says, curiosity warring with fear.

‘I promise you’ll be safe,’ Hermes says – though mostly because he himself has a dozen highly inappropriate questions for her that I can practically see him biting back. ‘And in thanks for your help I’ll happily escort you to wherever you’d like to go.’

At this her eyes light. ‘Colchis.’

‘You’d go back?’ I ask.

Her answering glare is a challenge. ‘Why shouldn’t I?’

Because by all accounts you murdered your brother on the way out.

But I’m not sure that’s the sort of thing that’s polite to enquire about and, at any rate, I need her potions, so I hold my tongue.