Page 43 of This Divine Revelry

‘I know! It’s fine! I’m sorry for ever lying to you all. I just didn’t want word reaching my father.’

‘Oh Fates.’ Myrto claps her hands over her mouth. ‘No, Ariadne, I’m sorry. I can’t believe I yelled at you for your sudden engagement when this is much more important.’

Calybe’s hand shoots up. ‘To confirm, is there anything I need to be apologizing for?’

We all fall quiet, considering.

‘I lent you my favourite chiton and you stained it,’ Opora finally determines.

‘You gave it to me stained!’

‘I did not!’

‘Sisters,’ Myrto says with an eye-roll. ‘Glad I never had one.’

In my pocket, I run my thumb over the grooves of Phaedra’s aulos.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘They’re certainly a great deal of trouble.’

Marriage has always been a practicality for me. I imagined fielding proposals like sifting through the very grain the princes would probably offer in exchange. Theseus was a desperate grasp and a hasty deal. This is much the same, isn’t it? Dionysus’s hand for his protection. Mine for his legacy.

But it doesn’t feel the same.

He unsettles me. I trust him but I never know where I stand with him. He’s unpredictable and erratic and motivated first and foremost by his own desire for a good time, which frankly is not a firm enough foundation for me to entertain.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask as I sweep into his tent – and I fear how many times I will ask that over the course of our marriage, with just as aghast a tone.

‘Making a headpiece for our wedding,’ he says, glancing up from the littered craft table. ‘I’m thinking horns to pay homage to both the satyrs of my thiasus and the bull of Crete – the only thing I could think of that we might have in common.’

‘You are not wearing fake horns on our wedding day.’

‘Well, we hardly have the time to secure real ones.’

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

‘We need to talk.’

He sighs and reaches to pour me a drink. ‘We haven’t even exchanged vows yet.’

‘Precisely,’ I say, taking the cup, startled to find it warm. I look down at the nettles curling within. ‘This is tea.’

‘I don’t only drink wine, you know.’

I stare, clutching the warm cup uncertainly.

‘And I originally invented that because it’s safer than most water sources. If you do have access to fresh water, my official advice is to water the wine down. Revelries are fun, I’ll grant you, but it’s about feeling as much as you can and enjoying it, not trying to numb yourself.’

‘Alright,’ I say, taking a sip. I have to remind myself I’ve only ever known these people on Naxos, which they themselves admit is where they come to party. ‘So,’ I start. ‘Marriage.’

‘Yes. A union between two people for the purposes of procreation and political leverage. Traditionally arranged by the parents, but I suppose we’re skipping that and –’

‘Condition number one: political leverage, yes. Procreation certainly not. Sex is off the table.’

‘Frolicking on the floor only, got it.’

I know he’s not being serious – he might perish if he even attempted such a thing – but it’s a considerable effort to squash the urge to throw something at him.

‘I’m not interested.’