Page 117 of This Divine Revelry

She waves my distress away like it’s distasteful. ‘I can’t curse her worse than I did by inflicting Jason upon her.’

‘We are so honoured that you would join us,’ I say, trying to catch Dionysus’s eye, but he’s moved on from Demeter and I can’t spot him in the crowd.

‘Relax, mortal,’ she says – though she clearly enjoys my panic. ‘You are incidental. A convenient way of stabbing at the brat, but what need do I have for that when his immortality is faltering as we speak. I’ll admit he’s stronger than I’ve seen him but that’s all about to come crumbling down.’ She gestures at the stage. ‘Interesting that he dabbles in performance, hoping a facade might save him, when it is a string of falsehoods and rumours that will undo him in the end. Isn’t that so delightfully mortal?’

I try to stay calm, but I’m twirling my bracelet about my wrist and if she means only to make me panic then it’s working. But I won’t give her the satisfaction of pleading for explanations.

Hera grins, like this is far more entertaining than any play. ‘He’ll be remembered as little more than a crab in the Heavens, as a many-headed snake, as a terrorizing boar – that is to say, when they tell the tales of Dionysus, it will be as a monster the heroes faced. And you, stupid girl, will not be remembered at all.’

‘Why does everyone think I care about that?’ I snap. ‘Theseus, Perseus – all so consumed with how the world will see them and how their stories will be told? What matters is here, now – living my life with those I care for.’ I step forward, unthinkably, as though I might face off against the Queen of the Heavens and live beyond my final sentence. ‘I care about a love that traces its shape in the stars. The people below might tell whatever tale they wish, but the truth is in the Heavens. And I trust anyone who needs that story will find it.’

I run while she’s too taken aback to retaliate.

I practically hurl myself down the stones, away from the party. Alright, so my celebrations are over. It’s the thiasus – there will be more parties.

Voices carry from up ahead. I slow, not wanting to disturb them.

‘You’ve done well.’ The words are loud and booming, reaching me even around the sharp-edged rocks that swallow all sound and the wind that whips it right away. ‘Phenomenally well.’

Then I hear Dionysus. I don’t want to eavesdrop – but I can’t interrupt what might be a crucial gathering of allies and I can’t return to the party so I’m stuck, ducking behind a jut of rock.

‘Thank you, Father.’

Father? Oh gods, he’s talking to Zeus …

‘Wine was inspired. But the revelries? The festivity? I haven’t had such fun in aeons. Now this? Theatre? It’s genius.’

‘I’m pleased you enjoyed it.’

‘You ought to join us.’

‘It would be an honour to host a revelry on Olympus. I could bring my retinue next equinox, perhaps, or –’

‘No.’ The answering voice is blunt, almost forceful. ‘You’re powerful, son. We all bore witness to that. And such power belongs on Olympus. Permanently.’

‘Permanently? But my followers …’

‘Are followers. Have them set up temples; they have no need to trail after your every step.’

I find myself leaning closer, my heart pulsing hard and fast, like it might leap nearer still.

‘I … I appreciate it, I do. But I have a life here. I am married and –’

Zeus laughs. ‘Fates below, son, don’t be such a fool. We can annul the marriage. Or keep her, if you like. Put her up somewhere and visit when you want a quick tumble but don’t refuse Olympus for her. Besides, I’m sure you’ll find the nymphs and goddesses of the Olympian court far more appealing – human women are great fun, I assure you, but occasionally you do want someone with the stamina to keep up with an immortal.’

I don’t even dare breathe – and I’m not sure if it’s my own outrage or fear of what Dionysus might reply in turn.

‘I must pass, Father.’ Dionysus’s voice is tight, outrage scarcely concealed. ‘Though I would be happy to honour the reverse – to remain down here and visit Olympus.’

‘What is it you want?’ Zeus bites. ‘A seat on the council? Done. I know my wife has tormented you. I can’t be alone in wanting to spite her and surely you can see how much this would infuriate her? Yet another of my bastards taking up power. On Olympus you’d be stronger than ever, untouchable even to her.’

Oh gods.

None of the heroes would be able to threaten him. They wouldn’t be able to reach him, let alone bleed him of the immortality thrumming through his veins.

He’d be safe – and we’d be … well, as Zeus says. In temples. I could do that, couldn’t I? Settle in a home nearby, surrounded by the thiasus. He could visit. We could stop running because we would be protected by a god on the council. We could –

‘No,’ Dionysus says again. ‘Thank you, Father. But no.’