Page 64 of This Divine Revelry

It is delight at winning a game.

Twitching at his hairline distracts me and at first I think there’s an insect caught in the edges of his hair. But then it bursts free and it’s not an insect at all but two curling tips extending from either side of his head.

Olympus above, I’m so glad I married that man.

I bite back my laugh. Instead, I meet Theseus’s gaze and keep my voice just as low. ‘You’re not dictating this story any more. I think it’s time to give voice to my own account – and make no mistake, in that you are unequivocally the villain.’

By the time I’ve finished speaking, the ass’s ears have fully sprung on either side of Theseus’s head and the god who summoned them has reached me, his hand falling to the small of my back.

I turn to him. Mischief sparks in his eyes but it’s a simmering sort of blaze, masking something fiercer beneath. Something that has his jaw tight and his arm firm about my waist. He draws me in so assuredly my breath catches, and suddenly my body is flush against his.

When he kisses me I forget about Theseus and the watching maenads. I forget the ruse altogether, may even forget my own name, anything that isn’t him, because his lips are all-consuming and his touch is like stumbling from the ocean waves and finding myself at last on solid ground.

I break off, gasping for breath, and he smiles.

‘Darling,’ he says, like his lips are not swollen with the taste of me. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to the man who abandoned you to your near-certain death on a half-deserted island?’

Theseus’s posture is rigid, his hand darting a little too close to the blade strung at his side, and his narrowed eyes fix on Dionysus’s hand still resting on my hip.

But he forces his ire down, and attempts a jovial nod.

‘Ahh, so you’ve fallen for her lies too,’ he says, reaching a hand out like they might clasp arms. Dionysus pointedly ignores it but Theseus is undeterred. ‘Careful, friend, that beautiful face hides a desperate need for attention and a proclivity towards hysteria.’ His right ear twitches to bat away a fly. I’m still not sure he notices. ‘You are Dionysus, yes, the one claiming to be a god?’

‘Oh, I think my deific power is quite clear for all to see.’

‘Well, then, we should speak later. I am certainly interested in exploring how Athens might celebrate you. A temple, perhaps? And I can tell you the truth behind the tales you’ve been told.’ Theseus claps Dionysus on the shoulder like some sort of brotherly camaraderie has been earned.

He turns back to me and flashes a quick grin that is nearly all teeth. ‘I’m willing to lie for the sake of your honour – you need only calm down and consider the shame you would otherwise bear.’

Then he turns and walks away.

Hermes comes up beside us and flicks his hand.

Just before Theseus rounds the corner, a tail bursts from the back of his chiton. From his startled screech, he notices this time.

Hermes grins, delighted. ‘I felt it was missing something.’

We leave the thiasus in town readying themselves for another revelry – or, rather, sharing the joyful news of Dionysus and his rites. It is one thing to miss out on such a party. Another to instead be dining with my parents.

If my father doesn’t order my immediate execution, of course.

When we round a corner, the palace walls jut up. We stumble to a halt. On top of each post is a cage, birds clinging to the bars and feasting on the slumped corpses within. They are still decked out in guards’ armour, slivers of skeleton shining beneath the leather plates.

‘That’s barbaric,’ Hermes says – as though the gods themselves have not been known to flay adversaries alive or embed them within flaming wheels.

‘I imagine they’re the guards who were on duty the night I escaped with the Athenians,’ I say, hugging my arms close. I count the corpses: thirteen of them. Add to that Asterion and the guard Theseus killed, and that is more corspses than there are rescued Athenian tributes – but in my mind the walls of the labyrinth surge around me, insisting on a way forward.

This is not my fault, a small, tiny part of myself insists.

But it’s difficult to believe.

The only relief is that none of those figures wears the robes of my tutor Daedalus. So maybe my father doesn’t know he let us go.

‘Come on,’ I say, because I cannot face it another moment. ‘Theseus isn’t in one of those cages, so my father’s temper has been assuaged for now.’

Neither of them speaks and, past the gates, they are still silent until the moment Hermes trips over the near-hidden hatch that allowed food into the labyrinth. He curses, his sandals shedding feathers through the slats of the grate into the pit below. Only one remains clinging on, and it flutters almost half-heartedly.

‘Damn this place,’ he hisses.