Page 12 of This Divine Revelry

‘Very well, Princess Ariadne. Let’s get you home to Athens. It appears we have a wedding to plan.’

CHAPTER FIVE

THE ATHENIANS SCAVENGE CLOAKS FROM the heaps the celebrating courtiers have left. Theseus snatches one up and drapes it around me without letting go of my hand. His palm is so broad it completely encloses my own and I shiver at the touch of his fingers brushing my shoulders.

What’s happening?

I’m fleeing my home. I am engaged. And until we get off this island, my father will try to kill me if he finds us.

I cannot afford to be distracted now.

We walk calmly across the courtyard, cloaks drawn high. If we run, it might arouse suspicion. If we are relaxed – perhaps a little stumbling – we might become just another group of drunken partygoers lost in the palace grounds.

It works until it doesn’t – until there is no hiding Theseus’s height and breadth and a guard looks twice.

No – not just a guard – it’s the one who had stood outside their prison. The one who had waved me through.

Theseus drops my hand and it is all so quick.

The guard – his sharp bark of alarm, the hurried reach for his sword – and Theseus’s swift, assured wrench of the man’s head. A resounding crack.

He’s done that before.

One of the Athenians yelps and my heart lurches – that these people would be led to the slaughter but cannot witness it themselves. I’m doing this – protecting them. But I force myself to watch as the body falls.

Two people are dead now because of my actions.

It is not my first time witnessing death – far from it. In the last few months Father has become creative with the showmanship of his executions. But now, even though there is no blood and gore, this quick clean break cuts surprisingly deep – leaves me standing, still and staring, noting that this is my fault.

In my efforts to stop my father, it appears I am becoming more like him than ever.

Theseus twines his fingers through mine again – snatching at me just like he grasped the sword at the guard’s side – and tries to draw us on.

‘The body will alert others,’ I say – and a few Athenians glance at me. One girl, disgusted. A boy, disdainful. Their prince can kill a man, but gods forbid a princess be practical about it. ‘We need to hide it.’

‘So what if more guards come? I can handle them,’ Theseus says, clenching the sword tight.

You came in here disguised, I want to say, and now you would rather be brash than secretive?

‘If there is fighting, let it be at the boats. Here they can come from all directions,’ I say instead – because pointing out that one man cannot stand against dozens seems like it would only encourage him.

I scurry to a door further up. A recently stocked storage room laden with amphorae of wheat, barley and fava beans from this year’s harvest. ‘Put him in here.’

Theseus considers, before he nods, snapping his fingers, and two of the boys hurry to oblige him. Zosime mutters something beneath her breath that sounds suspiciously like why are we listening to the Cretan whore?

But Theseus allows his gaze to run languidly down me – like we are not fleeing certain death, like we are not at risk – and I tense as though with anticipation. ‘You truly are something, Princess Ariadne.’

My heart answers with a skittering beat.

Olympus above, they are already going to tell the story of how love blinded me. I do not have to make it real.

We continue on, running through the halls until we are nearly out of the palace, and then, rounding a corner, consumed by the scroll in his hands, is Daedalus.

Theseus raises his blade.

‘No!’ I scold – which has Daedalus finally looking up. His eyes dart around between us, before finally landing on me.

He hesitates a moment and then sighs. ‘They lock the servants’ gate every evening. But I understand there are, ah, certain medicinal benefits to sneaking out – you may wish to look there. Goodnight.’