Page 127 of This Divine Revelry

PERSEUS LEADS US TO A nearby tower within the city’s fortifications – a small, sparsely furnished room with a staircase tucked in its corner. It is dark, lit only by slits carved into the walls, and the shadows are long, the air stale. Guards position themselves beside him, their hands on their sword hilts.

Perseus places his bag down and leans against the edge of a table.

‘Let’s get to it, shall we? Surrender and I’ll only imprison your followers rather than kill them. Behave and I’ll have them serving the nobility rather than thrown to the fighting pits.’

Dionysus scoffs. ‘Counter: we host our revelry as we planned. Allow the people of Argos to decide how they would like to live and how their leader can best serve them.’ He flashes a grin. ‘In return, I’ll let you keep your throne rather than turning you into a panther to drive my chariot.’

Perseus adjusts a golden cuff about his wrist as though we are wasting his time. ‘You’ve made a point of your power, certainly. But you also made it quite clear you aren’t strong enough to take on my entire army. The men out there would give their lives for me readily. So don’t think I won’t spend that which I am rightfully owed as king.’

‘Your own people are down there,’ I spit.

‘Don’t be foolish. My people were quite clearly warned against following this barbarous god. If they wish to die to prove my point, I’ll allow it.’

‘Not fighting yourself?’ I ask. ‘If you’re so worthy of godhood, why aren’t you on that field with a sword in hand?’

Perseus’s jaw twitches but he doesn’t so much as look in my direction. ‘My best offer: take your people and go. But leave her. A mouth like that? I’d be doing you a favour.’

Dionysus steps in front of me. ‘I’d stop now,’ he says darkly, ‘before I decide there’s no use wasting words with you.’

‘No,’ I say, drawing Dionysus back. ‘I think words are exactly what he needs.’ I look up at the man who held me captive. Who slapped me when I dared to speak back. Who locked me up until I played his game. ‘I think there’s a reason you’d rather silence the women you meet than have us ask why you think we’re so unworthy.’

‘It’s nature. I don’t care to debate reality.’ He turns back to Dionysus. ‘Now –’

‘Like the reality where you’re not a god?’ I push, and delight as his eye twitches. He might dismiss us as emotional, but boys like him seem so very quick to anger.

‘Not yet.’ He runs his gaze across Dionysus, lip curling with all he sees. The furs and garlands and staff that mark him as a god. ‘But it’s going to happen. You know that. You can run from here but I will come. I’ll pick your followers off one by one. I’ll kill this little slut first. And if the loss of all that power doesn’t destroy you, it will have you begging for death. Or you could end it here. Give your immortality to me, and I’ll let her and your whole retinue go.’

Instead of refuting him, Dionysus begins pacing as though this were a casual discussion – or perhaps like he’s really considering it. ‘Enlighten me, Perseus. Godhood is fine, I’m a pretty big fan – but clearly I’m missing something because I don’t see how it’s worth all this. What exactly do you have in mind for your divinity? What would you do with all that power?’

Perseus’s answering smile is cold. ‘I’d enjoy it.’

I snort. ‘How profound.’

He finally – finally – looks to me and his rage is a burning, cloying thing and he is choking on it. ‘Power is its own justification, you ignorant little whore.’ I laugh – because that seems to get to him most. A whole army at his fingertips and he cannot stand a woman laughing at him. ‘Doing something with power is a delusion the weak tell themselves,’ he snarls, ‘right as they convince one another that all the riches and authority and women throwing themselves at your feet doesn’t make you happy. It does. And I will take it all.’

‘All?’ Dionysus asks. ‘You’d go on to challenge Zeus, then? Once you’re made a god?’

Perseus falters. ‘What? No, of course not –’

‘No?’ Dionysus smiles. ‘So you admit, then, there are men better and stronger than you. Who would remain so? You would use your godhood to worship his?’

Perseus looks as though Dionysus has struck him.

Oh. That’s it. Why the heroes constantly chase power despite all the freedom offered by their crowns and their armies and the very fact of their masculinity in a world that caters to it: because even when the odds are in their favour, it is still a game they are trapped within.

There will always be someone with more.

And each step, every tier, from the very bottom to those near the top is nothing more than a way to keep the man at its peak in power.

Which means there is no winning – only a refusal to play. And a need to tear the walls down entirely.

A single, world-splitting scream shatters the air – followed by a cacophony of them.

Perseus dives – rolling behind the table and emerging with a shield no mortal could craft. Fibres of woven bronze strung together, then hammered into place to an almost pure reflective shine. A disc at the centre, binding it all together.

Perseus borrowed sandals and a sword from Hermes. The helm of darkness from Hades.

And a shield from Athena.