Page 99 of This Divine Revelry

The second the spoon hits the bowl, those ropes are back on my wrists. ‘I want all of his symbols next,’ he says. ‘Give me enough and you might be rewarded with a turn about the deck. Fresh air. A glimpse of sunlight. Consider it.’

He calls for his men to escort me back to my dark, dank cell.

I slip my bonds as soon as the door shuts behind me.

A small lamp struggles to cut through the gloom, the oil within nearly drained. But it is still lit – just. I race over, pulling the bread from my pocket and tearing it into four small pieces.

Dionysus, I think, as I push one into the flame. It’s Ariadne.

I’m on Perseus’s boat.

I think he may be headed for Naxos.

A little help, please?

He said it was a flare in the dark. True, I’m on a moving boat but … maybe. Maybe.

I cannot tie my hands back up – and I know I’m in for some punishment or other when they return for me. But for now I enjoy the feeling of the freedom and, with a relatively full stomach and free hands, I revel in so little pain.

Hope burns in my chest, and, clinging to its warmth, I curl up and sleep.

I jolt awake with the urge to run.

Right, along, then up up up.

I don’t know where we are, or what’s happening, only that escape must suddenly be a possibility. And I refuse not to at least try.

I rush to the door, press my ear against it but can hear nothing so I risk the handle. It turns – not normally a cell, then, but … a storeroom. I face stacks of crates and carefully aligned amphorae. I’ve seen snatches of this before as I’ve been dragged from my room to the one Perseus interrogates me in but I hadn’t been cognizant enough to take it in. Now I see the ladder at its edge. I race, hauling myself through the sleeping quarters – all empty – and ahead shouting filters through. I may be running into danger but at least I’m running. At least I’m trying to survive this.

The shouts turn to screams, metal clashing, hurried pounding steps.

I peek through the hatch to the deck, spotting a dozen hammocks, delightfully empty, and hearing the shouting coming from above. Perhaps whatever chaos is unfolding will enable my escape?

I burst on to the deck, having to practically hurl myself up.

Dionysus.

He’s alive, he’s here. He stands at the head of the ship, a circle of men forming around him, their swords drawn. Perseus, notably, is absent.

Likely fled at the first notice of the god’s approach – unwilling to face him with his powers intact.

Dionysus holds his arms out, fingers splayed like he’s about to weave the air, and it’s enough to have the men stepping into formation but not to risk running him through.

‘You know, when I was kidnapped I turned the entire crew into dolphins. What exactly do you imagine I’ll do to the men who took my wife?’

My skin prickles because he’s so … It’s not anger quite so much as fury. Righteous fury. The sort that rains from the Heavens. He’s a god – and in this moment it is undeniable. He is so flippant, so baffling that sometimes I forget the sheer power that is his to wield – and now he would wield it for retribution.

My retribution.

His gaze catches mine – surprised, alarmed – but quickly he nods to the back of the boat and I make my way there, half expecting to find the thiasus hiding to smuggle me away while he performs the ultimate distraction.

One of the sailors catches the movement, turning and shouting – and another runs towards me.

‘No!’ Dionysus snarls, pointing a hand – and I feel the magic arc in our direction, the intent, the will of the gods.

But nothing happens.

And the men notice nothing happen.