Page 25 of This Divine Revelry

‘No.’

I’d toyed with it – been desperate at points – but I was so acutely aware of the danger of being by myself in the middle of a gods-touched forest on an uninhabited island that logical Ariadne – who couldn’t be quiet for even five minutes – outweighed oh please it might be fun Ariadne and kept those amphorae sealed.

‘Why not?’ he asks, settling on the kline beside me. He reaches for a bowl of olives, and I find myself watching him pluck one out and pop it between his lips. It’s a fine mouth, I note, his whole face drawn with keen precision – the dip of his upper lip, the slope of his brows, the slight cleft of his chin and –

Oh no. No, I thought we drowned horny Ariadne after the mess she got us into. Hasn’t Theseus proved I can’t be trusted with a pretty face? And where he was ruggedly handsome, Dionysus is oh so pretty.

He’s looking at me, expecting an answer, and so I shrug. ‘I don’t think I’ve been adequately hydrated at any point on this island. Wine didn’t seem sensible.’

Dionysus smiles wickedly and leans in closer. ‘Oh, but where’s the fun in sensible?’

Is this it? His whole shtick as a god – to encourage recklessness and the pursuit of pleasure because he’s so uncaged by any sort of responsibility or expectation or passion beyond passion itself? How uninteresting.

I turn my attention back to where it belongs: the food. And I pile a plate high.

‘So, Areatha, how did you end up here on Naxos?’

‘Naxos?’

‘You might know it as Dia? Come, you must know where you are.’

I shake my head. ‘There was a storm. It capsized the ship I travelled on.’

Dionysus waits, and I feel his expectation shift to suspicion.

I blink a few times, trying to chalk up my lack of details to the distress. ‘I think everyone on the ship died.’

I wish.

‘Is that how you were injured?’ He nods to my shoulder. The wound is weeks old now, but poorly tended. It’s a divot carved into my skin; the scar is dark and ragged, shining bright from the heat that had pressed there.

I nod. ‘Something struck me as the ship broke apart.’

He hums – soft and thoughtful, and I don’t like it one bit.

‘Where were you headed?’

‘Mycenae.’

Where Charis is. It’s the first place that springs to mind.

‘Well, we can take you on to your destination if you’d like,’ he says, then arches a wry brow. ‘Though I should warn you, few choose to leave my company once they’ve been acquainted with it.’

Oh, I’m sure. This is what Theseus did, isn’t it? That assured confidence with every flirtatious utterance. And me, desperate enough to believe it.

I smile as inoffensively as possible. ‘Taking me to Mycenae would be wonderful, thank you.’

He laughs at the dismissal. ‘We shall see, Areatha. We shall see. What are you planning on doing in Mycenae anyway?’

‘There’s a temple there,’ I say, a touch too quickly. ‘I’m a priestess.’

Dionysus gapes. ‘A priestess didn’t even recognize me as a god?’ He puts his cup heavily down upon the table. He’s joking but there’s definitely an edge of something real there. ‘I’m worse at this than I thought. Bad luck to end up here, though. If you’d made it to the other side of the island, you’d have been within sight of Delos and they’re always clamouring for more people to work the temples. Who do you serve?’

‘Helios,’ I say – though admittedly my knowledge of him is limited to god of the sun, unresponsive grandfather and decidedly unhelpful when you wash up on an abandoned island.

‘Even Helios has temples? I would have thought he was on the out now Apollo gets to drag his precious sun about each morning.’

I wouldn’t be too jealous, Dionysus, his lineage isn’t exactly faring well.