Page 18 of This Divine Revelry

The crew is a light team, half the men sitting in clusters on the deck. They drink and sing, some of them dance to the lilting tune, clapping their hands and chanting as they go. Even those working, manning the ropes and shifting tools, do so to that same rhythm.

‘Ariadne!’

The tributes are gathered in their own circle – Theseus at the head. But it’s Zosime calling my name and waving me over. ‘Come join us!’

She raises a jug of wine and begins pouring a new cup before I can politely decline.

‘What are we celebrating?’ I ask, looking to Theseus, who has that carefully aloof mask on that he often wears around the Athenians – like he must always be the hero from the tales to them.

Am I the only person he lets it slip for?

I take the cup and settle beside him, his arm falling across my shoulders.

‘We are officially closer to Athens than Crete,’ Zosime says, eyeing Theseus’s grip on me with a grim expression. I wonder if she had hoped for his attentions – or if, before I came, she had them.

‘So not really something for you to celebrate,’ one of the boys mutters into his cup.

Theseus snaps at him so quickly I tense. ‘I would expect my wife has more to celebrate than most.’

‘Wife?’ Zosime yelps, gaze shooting between us both.

‘In the eyes of the gods,’ Theseus answers.

I flush. If they did not already think we were sleeping together, they certainly will now. But then … if he is introducing me as his wife to those on his ship, is that not its own protection? I do not have to worry about him deciding not to marry me if he is already telling people we are wed.

I take a sip, savouring the rich, heady taste that coats my tongue. My muscles relax, and I lean against Theseus. I did it. I’m safe. Married to the prince of Athens, just like I once proposed.

The boy who’d complained rises to his feet. ‘Forgive me, my prince. But sharing wine with her is beyond the hospitality owed.’

‘I’m not my father,’ I say quietly. Theseus’s hold on me tightens. ‘You don’t have to fear me – and you don’t have to like me, either. I did not save your lives so that you would owe them to me.’

‘I saved those lives,’ Theseus corrects, just as calmly as ever but there’s bite beneath it. ‘And you certainly owe them to me. Go on, Ariadne, why don’t you tell them all why you assisted me? Show them they have nothing to fear.’

I swallow and even though it’s a pleasant night, the wind turns suddenly quite cold. This is a test, clear as any. I see the future unfurl before me, this tale told again and again at celebrations and banquets held beneath my own roof.

My mother once longed for such parties.

If I could live out my mother’s dreams on the shores of Athens, perhaps it would be worth becoming a lie.

‘I never thought anything of it,’ I say. My words are quick, a hint of shame as I lower my gaze. ‘But when you arrived and I saw Theseus amongst you, I knew at once this was a man blessed by the gods, a man who carved righteousness with his blade, and I knew that he could not die.’ I look up at Theseus, finding his gaze intent upon me. Framed by the night sky, there is no difference between the depths beyond and those spiralling within his eyes. ‘And if I am honest, I was struck by Eros himself, a sudden sharp pluck of the arrow and it was clear. I was so very stupid not to see it before. And I knew my beloved Theseus would defeat the beast; I only had to open the door. Perhaps offer string to guide you out. Tools – for the hero in our midst.’

I see the boys soften around me. They might still hate me as an extension of my father and the cruelty that brought them here – but why waste hatred on a foolish, idiotic girl whose love had been their only saving grace?

‘We made a good team,’ Theseus offers.

I shake my head. ‘It was all you. And perhaps the hand of the gods in delivering me to you.’

Theseus smiles and the hatred dims. No conniving, fiendish woman, not the girl who demanded we hide the body of the guard – no, forget all that – just a foppish vessel for the will of the gods.

Theseus kisses me – right there in front of everyone. It feels like a claiming – like protection. Asserting that he has absolved me of the sins of my father and that anyone who steps against me sets themselves in opposition to him too.

‘Great, can we drink now?’ Zosime interrupts, and is met by a few chuckles.

We reluctantly part and Theseus lowers his mouth to my ear, his breath hot against me as he says: ‘That was very nicely done, my love.’

My love.

I can hear my own pulse, thundering in my ears. My love my love my love. And the wine is sweeter on my tongue as I taste its echo on his.