Page 26 of This Divine Revelry

Instead of answering, I take a final bite of the bread.

‘At any rate, we’ll be here for a short while,’ Dionysus says, raising his cup back to his lips for a long, slow sip. ‘We’ve travelled a long way to get here and we always look forward to our time on Naxos. Olympus only knows, my retinue deserve a break.’

Dionysus sets the cup down and rises to his feet. I pivot, unwilling to turn my back on him. But then me lying on the kline while he stands reminds me of waking up in Theseus’s bed, so without thinking I jump to my feet too – and then he’s a little too close.

‘If you’re running from something, Areatha, you’re safe here. We’re hosting a revelry on the next island over tomorrow. You may be able to find a ship in the port of Cabarnis, or there might even be a temple on the island that suits you. Or if it’s Mycenae you want, we’ll take you when we’re done here. You can even go back to the huts if you’d like, and I’ll alert you when we’re ready to leave. But you’re welcome among us. Though, it should be noted, my following are rather unconventional. I don’t take kindly to anyone harassing or otherwise making someone feel unsafe because they disagree with some satyr’s decision to wander off to a tent without taking marriage vows first or because a maenad prefers sticking her tongue down another woman’s throat. I trust none of that will be a problem, should you choose to remain?’

‘Not a problem,’ I say sharply – even though it should be. Even though that alone is tantamount to confession.

‘No?’ He arches a coy brow. ‘Most priestesses would be scandalized. Flustered.’

‘Do you want me flustered?’

He leans back against the table, a smirk unfurling lazily across his lips. ‘If I did, Areatha, you’d know it.’ My skin prickles under his gaze, but my fingers twitch with fury. I feel like he’s playing with me. Like I amuse him. Then again, he behaves as though the whole world were something thoroughly entertaining. ‘Very well, priestess, keep your mysteries. But know I find them thoroughly intriguing.’

‘I aim to please,’ I deadpan.

That smile deepens, and he takes a step closer. How confident is he? How many times does he give this spiel? Flutters his long lashes, smiles that wicked grin and teases chaos, until whoever he seeks is ensnared?

‘When I say you’re welcome to join, darling, I do mean in anything and everything you wish.’

‘Oh?’ I ask, batting my eyelashes right back and hoping it passes for a confused blink.

It draws him in at any rate, his gaze heady as he takes me in.

‘You may see licentious things. Perhaps even depraved things. You may not care for it. But if you find yourself excited … if there is anyone who intrigues you …’ He is so close I can feel the words on my skin. ‘Know this is a place where that is celebrated.’

I make my eyes big and wide and innocent. ‘Are you going to corrupt me, Lord Dionysus?’

My voice is breathy, and his gaze drops to my lips.

‘Corruption? Only those who rule by fear see freedom as a fall.’ He meets my eyes slowly, like the journey from my lips is a long, languid graze. ‘Tell me, are you flustered now, priestess?’

Oh, you bastard. He flirts like it’s just another amusement, like he might not truly care if I respond or not. But the parallel is clear: just another lascivious would-be hero – only this one is at least making it perfectly apparent that the only interest he has in me is removing my clothes. I imagine he’d discard me just as easily after, to go and lower those lids for someone else until he sates that need to conquer and claim.

I lean into Dionysus slowly – until his eyes close. Until he tilts his head to the side and …

‘I think I’ll pass,’ I say, pushing him back and wishing I didn’t feel just how solid his chest was beneath my hands.

His eyes shoot open. He looks … dazed. I catch a glint as he realizes he’s been played and I have to bite down on a smile of my own. I’ve had quite enough of self-important men. I want to knock them down and leave them floundering.

‘Let me know when you’re ready to leave Naxos.’

I don’t wait for him to say anything in reply, I just leave him there – dishevelled and thrown, wondering if his heart is racing as quickly as mine.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CONVERSATIONS CEASE WHEN I EMERGE from Dionysus’s tent – an abrupt halt in what was clearly a celebratory evening. His followers lie scattered in small circles and I’m not sure where to step, when one girl jumps to her feet and runs over to me.

She’s so angular her chiton practically hangs off her, the pink bright against her cool brown skin. Her dark hair is cropped close, her ears studded with a dozen silver hoops, and her belt is threaded with tools that seem to somehow include both a chisel and a stylus, like any sort of emergency might call.

‘Areatha, I’m Myrto. Come this way, please.’ She is walking away before I can reply and, hastily, I scurry after her. ‘So I’ve arranged those linens you brought over here.’

She waves to one of the large tent structures, the pale-yellow sheets Dionysus told me to bring tacked on to the end. She draws open the entrance and ushers me through.

‘Let me know if it gets too loud – people tend to whisper through the night here. Though we do request that other late-night activity be taken to the appropriate tents. There are private sections if there are only two of you and larger tents if you’re with a group; I can take you over if –’

‘No! Thank you!’