Page 78 of This Divine Revelry

‘ARIADNE,’ ZOSIME SAYS, GAZE FLITTING along the hall. ‘I thought Theseus had …’ Her wide eyes pivot back to me. ‘You’re alive.’

My words die on my tongue as I take in all she means by that.

‘Theseus didn’t tell you,’ I say, and she takes a heavy breath, wincing away from the realization that lands a moment later. ‘May we come in?’

‘We?’ She takes in the rather unusual appearance of Dionysus – the rings stacked on his fingers, the bracelets too, even the thin circlet of gold pinning back half his curls.

Without the gentle framing of them he is sharp and chiselled – which works for our purposes, I suppose. Harsh edges, intentional beauty – a god not to be intimidated by everything the Cretan and Athenian kings might throw at him. But I don’t like knowing there’s another reason for the coldness in his gaze, not when I am so accustomed to his ever-present joviality.

‘Yes,’ Zosime says a moment later. ‘Of course. You’re a princess here, you’re –’

‘A Cretan whore, if I remember correctly,’ I say, sliding into the room.

It’s sparse – not meant for guests but for their retinues. For their … mistresses.

‘I’m sorry, I –’

‘Was running for your life, I remember. I don’t blame you.’

She hugs her arms across her chest and takes up a spot against the wall. I perch on the edge of the table opposite, Dionysus beside me, his hand on my waist.

‘You’re sleeping with Theseus?’ I ask.

She hesitates, then nods. It changes nothing, but fury still ignites. Theseus is entitled to sleep with whomever he wishes. None of it makes him ill suited for marriage.

‘Were you always sleeping with him?’

She bites her lip. ‘Yes and no. Before you, yes. After you, yes. Not alongside.’

‘How soon … after me?’

She cringes, but she doesn’t lie. ‘Days. I didn’t … didn’t want to, exactly. I was never angling for the position but Theseus made his interest known and I … I didn’t know what to do. He was the prince of Athens. Before, when we were dying, I thought why not? I didn’t want to die having never experienced anything at all and it … it helped take my mind off what was coming. After … I’d seen what he’d done to you.’

‘What, abandoning me?’

‘No, leaving you to bleed out from that arrow wound. Keeping you shut up in that room – he always said you wanted nothing to do with us, that we were beneath you –’

‘What?’

She shrugs. ‘You’re a princess so everyone else believed it. But I don’t believe you risk everything for people you think you’re so much better than. Which is why the one time you did appear I insisted you join us. And then I saw you that night – clearly besotted with one another. But the next morning Theseus told us you’d died and he’d buried you. Honestly, I thought … I thought he’d killed you. But he’s our prince – gods, our king, now. His rule is absolute – when he lies, it becomes a new truth.’

Dionysus holds me tight, but he stays quiet – letting me direct wherever this goes. Whatever it is I need to hear.

‘You thought he killed me and you still jumped into his bed?’

She lowers her gaze, and swallows hard. ‘I thought he’d been preparing for a multitude of situations from the start. He’d rather not have married you, to retain that bargaining chip for another land or to gain him a spot in another heroic song. If he had to, if we’d reached Athens like we’d planned, he’d have gone through with it. He had you singing the right tunes, after all. But I’m not sure how long it would have lasted before he sent you off to some countryside estate or … arranged an accident. He’s seen what a tragedy has done for Heracles’s story, after all.’

My heart pounds so heavily I can barely hear her over its thud. The room itself churns and all at once I feel as though I am back on that boat.

‘It’s why he came back,’ she continues. ‘He was betrothed to a princess who betrayed her father for him – and despite all Minos did, Theseus was honourable enough to return and offer to marry her sister in her stead. He chose duty over animosity – never mind that he’d cultivated the situation himself. It’s a better story.’

A better story. My death, a better line in his tale.

Did he want me to die without spilling my blood himself? If he could do it again, would he have slit my throat before he sailed away? Olympus above, he was potentially going to kill me. I’ve been tearing myself apart for sleeping with him – and he was going to leave me whether I fucked him or not.

Beside me, Dionysus is deeply, worryingly still.

But Zosime is pale, her gaze flitting between us like she’s worried about how we’ll react, and I’m not the one at risk right now. I’m protected by a god. She’s not.