Page 77 of This Divine Revelry

‘Why did you shriek?’ he asks, scanning me for some sign of distress. ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t be allowed near make-up brushes if you’re liable to jab yourself in the eye.’

‘I didn’t shriek,’ I scoff – and I think it’s just some peculiarly Dionysian attempt at annoying me until I see the blood drain from his face.

And then I remember: I heard things – the Fates laughing and Keres threatening me and sometimes just piercing, relentless shrieking.

I drop the ochre and brush, reaching for his hands instead.

‘You need to tell me if I start rambling,’ he says quickly, like he might get all the words out before the fear closes his throat tight.

‘I will,’ I promise.

‘Or if you notice any sudden changes in my mood or times I stop mid-sentence. If I’m hearing voices, then … fuck. We should get Silen – they know what to look out for and I don’t always spot these things myself and –’

I want to gather him into my arms and hold him close. To tell my sister she can marry whom she pleases and promise I’ll probably kill her fiancé once day anyway, and Dionysus and I can just leave and … be together. Have more days like today …

He begins blinking rather quickly and I am on my feet, moving to hug him, but he steps away from my reach. He snatches his hands from mine and the look he flashes me is cold. Practically disdainful.

‘Do not. Not now, Ariadne.’

I flinch. There’s the disdain – curt and outraged.

‘Let’s just get Theseus banished from Crete, shatter these marriage prospects and get out of here as quickly as we can,’ he says, each word terse like he is fighting to remain calm.

‘Alright,’ I say, agreeing before he’s even finished speaking.

He winces – like my hasty acquiescence wounds him. Maybe he wants me to fight back. Wants to make it easier to push me away.

Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

‘What did you have in mind for this evening?’ he asks. His words are too flat – almost defeated.

‘Dionysus –’

‘Please, Ariadne.’ His pleading eyes are so earnest I can barely look at him. ‘Distract me.’

Alright … alright, I can do that.

‘We tried working on my father and brother last night – tonight, we go after Theseus,’ I say quickly, trying to seize on the distraction too. ‘We get him to admit he only wants Phaedra for his legacy, not to secure peace with Crete. It’s one thing for my father to bolster another man’s status ahead of his own – another if all parties are admitting that’s exactly what’s happening.’

‘That works for me,’ Dionysus agrees, shoulders back, stony glint in his eye.

But our plans are derailed the moment we step out of my room.

Because at the end of the hall is Theseus, leaning into a doorway, his hand curled into a chiton.

He releases it at the sound of our approach, but instead of any form of shame, he looks thoroughly smug, arching a brow and nodding right at us.

‘Good evening. Lovely night for a banquet, don’t you think?’

He pushes past us, self-satisfied chuckles echoing after him as he vanishes down the hall.

I storm towards that quickly shutting door, my heart hammering, and I am half expecting Phaedra, making the same mistake she condemned me for.

But when I pound on the door, I’m met not by Phaedra’s golden curls but a shock of pitch-black hair.

Zosime.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN