Page 36 of Circe

I could see pieces of Pasiphaë in her, but only if I searched: her chin, the delicacy of her collarbone.

“You are skilled,” I said.

She smiled. “Thank you. My parents are looking for you.”

“No doubt. But I must find Daedalus.”

She nodded, as if I were only one of a thousand who wanted him instead of her parents. “I will take you. But we must be careful. The guards are out looking.”

She slipped her fingers into mine, warm and a little damp from her exercise. Through dozens of narrow side-passages she led me, her feet silent on the stones. We came at last to a bronze door. She beat six times in a rhythm.

“I cannot play now, Ariadne,” a voice called. “I am busy.”

“I am with the lady Circe,” she said.

The door swung open, revealing Daedalus, sooty and stained. Behind him was a workroom, half open to the sky. I saw statues with their cloths still on them, gears and instruments I did not recognize. At the back, a foundry smoked, and metal glowed hot in a mold. A fish spine lay on a table, a strange jagged blade beside it.

“I have been to Mount Dicte,” I said. “I have glimpsed the creature’s fate. It can die, but not now. A mortal will come who is destined to dispatch it. I do not know how long it may be. The creature was full-grown in my vision.”

I watched the knowledge settle on him. All the days ahead that he must be on his guard. He drew a breath. “So we contain it then.”

“Yes. I have brewed a charm that will help. It craves…” I paused, feeling Ariadne behind me. “It craves that flesh you saw it eat. It is part of its nature. I cannot take away that hunger, but I may set bounds upon it.”

“Anything,” he said. “I am grateful.”

“Do not be grateful yet,” I said. “For three seasons of the year, the spell will keep its appetite at bay. But every harvest it will return, and must be fed.”

His eyes flicked to Ariadne behind me. “I understand,” he said.

“The rest of the time it will still be dangerous, but only as a savage beast might be.”

He nodded, but I saw he was thinking of harvest time, and the feeding that must come. He glanced at the molds behind him, tinged red with heat. “I will be finished with the cage tomorrow morning.”

“Good,” I said. “It cannot come too soon. I will work the spell then.”

When the door closed, Ariadne stood waiting. “You were speaking of the baby that was born, were you not? He is the one that must be kept until he’s killed?”

“He is.”

“The servants say he is a monster, and my father shouted at me when I asked about him. But he is still my brother, is he not?”

I hesitated.

“I know about my mother and the white bull,” she said.

No child of Pasiphaë’s could remain innocent for long. “I suppose you may say he is your half-brother,” I said. “Now come. Take me to the king and queen.”

Griffins preened, delicate and regal, on the walls. The windows spilled sun. My sister lay on her silver couch glowing with health. Beside her, on an alabaster chair, Minos looked old and puffed, like something left dead in the waves. His eyes seized on me as snatcher-birds take fish.

“Where have you been? The monster needs tending. That is why you were brought here!”

“I have made a draught,” I said. “So we may transfer it to its new cage more safely.”

“A draught? I want it killed!”

“Darling, you sound hysterical,” Pasiphaë said. “You haven’t even heard my sister’s idea. Go on, Circe, please.” She rested her chin on her hand, theatrically expectant.

“It will bind the creature’s hunger for three seasons of each year.”