Page 57 of This Divine Revelry

IWAKE AT THE FIRST light breaking over the horizon, my grandfather’s sun cresting.

‘Ariadne?’ Dionysus whispers sleepily beside me. I startle, alarmed to find him so close though I know we slept side by side. At some point, we must have migrated from the furthest edges of the tent to somewhere near the centre. Still not touching, still a certain width between us.

But still …

‘Where … going?’ His words are muffled by the pillow he is half buried in.

‘I thought I’d take a turn about the deck. I’ll see you later.’

‘Wait … sorry … you … you friend.’

‘Oh, for the mercy of Zeus, can you at least wake up and apologize to me properly if that’s what you mean to do?’

He rolls over, his curls falling messily into his face, and I have to resist the urge to push them back. I know I said friends rather than lovers but aren’t we missing an incredibly enticing third option here?

We are already kissing in public; we could be friends who do such things in private too. Isn’t his whole following about defining your relationships in a way that works for you? Well, I could certainly define a sort of friendship that involved … pleasure.

You are mine. You will always be mine.

I wince, memories surfacing that I thought I’d crushed into fuel, something to feed the fires that keep pushing me onwards.

So, maybe not. Maybe I’m not capable of touching anyone ever again without wondering what they truly mean. What purpose it really serves …

Dionysus pushes himself up in one sudden, feline stretch.

‘Ariadne, I’m very sorry about yesterday. I was scared and shaken and I blamed myself for Hera getting to you. I got it into my head that if you disliked me it might keep you safe, which I appreciate now was a wholly impossible thing to ask of you, owing to my rugged good looks and irresistible wit, but –’

I throw my pillow at him, and it knocks him down, back into his.

‘I didn’t even get to my gracious humility.’

‘I will smother you.’

‘Promises, promises, dear wife.’

‘Do you always flirt with women midway through making it clear you’re just friends?’

‘Aha!’ He sits back up. ‘You admit we are friends and I will take it, then, that my apology is accepted.’

‘If it allows me to leave this tent in peace, then fine, we’re friends.’

He takes a breath and, in that flickering moment, I see a touch of relief.

My stomach knots – did he really think I might refuse? I’m off to confront a man who declared my death to be of no consequence and a man who abandoned me to its certainty – I’m not going to turn down an ally just because he keeps irksomely insisting I’m going to fall in love with him.

‘Wonderful. We’re both too damaged for a relationship – look at us being self-aware.’ He stretches his arms above his head. ‘Let’s find breakfast. I’m starving and in need of soup.’

‘Soup? The sun’s not even risen.’

‘Have you never felt a sudden lust for soup? I have certain riddling soup-related theories –’

I clap my hand over his mouth. ‘You are not adding soup to your iconography. Now, let’s go find you some if it keeps you quiet.’

I wait until he is nearly finished with the broth, both of us perched at the bow of the ship, watching the dolphins haul us along.

I poke at my own bowl – half disbelieving that he managed to encourage me into sampling breakfast soup and half reluctant to admit he was correct about it.

‘How are your powers?’ I ask. ‘Do you have any energy to spare?’