Her feet planted solidly on the familiar rock, she set down the basket and loosely cradled the spear in her fingers. A man’s face floated into her memory, kind and sun-worn. The man who’d taught her to fish. A dull ache spread across her chest at the thought of her father. Then, as quickly as it had come, the pain faded, and his likeness melted like morning dew. Nothing that came before mattered now; all she had was this moment.
She waited for her breathing to slow, until all she could hear was the pulse of the river. Then she gazed down into its depths, waiting for the flicker of a fin.
There.
The spear pierced the current, straight and true. It sliced through the water and stuck fast into the riverbed. She peered down and her heart skipped as she saw a large silver fish pinned below the surface.
She squatted to keep her balance and tugged the weapon free, the fish still impaled, and pulled it clear of the water. Then she yanked the fish from the spear and held on tight as it twisted in her hands. It was at least three times the size of a red tunny. Polyxo and Hypsipyle would be pleased. She dropped the still twitching fish into her basket and wiped her brow.
She delved into her bag, searching for her knife to bring the fish’s life to a quick end. But instead, her hand brushed something hard and cloth-wrapped. As she drew it out, her palm began to tingle.
The prophecy stone. She had not thought about it in so long.
Heat pulsed through her hand and through the stupor fogging her mind she heard the voice, so faint it seemed to be calling from the other end of the world.
You are the last daughter! You are the last daughter!
As she gripped the stone the voice grew louder, and memory, nauseating and overwhelming, crashed over her. She staggered, knees jarring as she hit the rock.
She stared at the cloth-covered stone, then at the fish still jerking limply in the basket. What was she doing? She had to gather the Argonauts and get back to the ship.
“Daeira?”
She shoved the prophecy stone back into her bag and spun around. Hylas was standing on the bank, a netted sack stuffed with coconuts slung over his shoulder. He’d grown a scraggly beard. When had that happened? Her hands flew to her own hair and discovered that her crop had grown over her ears and halfway down her neck. Despite the warmth of the island, the cold arms of fear wrapped around her. They must have been on Lemnos for months.
“What are you doing?” Hylas cocked his head.
There was something wrong with his face. Something other than his new facial hair. His pupils were huge, consuming his irises with gluttonous darkness.
“You’re not doing your task.”
Her mouth was dry, the back of her neck clammy with sweat.
“Yes I am, look.” She tilted the basket toward him, revealing the fish. Hylas stared at it and blinked. It was horrible to watch him, as if a stranger had stolen his skin.
“What did you just put in your bag?”
He walked to the edge of the bank, as though he was going to jump and join her on the boulder. Danae scrambled back, lost her balance, and crashed into the water.
The shock of the fall robbed the breath from her lungs. She broke the surface, gasping for air, while the river carried her downstream. She struck out to swim to the bank, but the river twisted, flowing into a much larger, faster-flowing channel of water. Hylas was shouting from the bank, but his voice was soon drowned out by the roaring current. It took all of her strength to keep her head above water as it tore at her limbs. The river was shockingly cold and blasted away the last of the haze clouding her mind.
She had been drugged. Polyxo, Hypsipyle, Sofia had all lied. They had no intention of letting the Argonauts leave the island.
Bruised and battered, she tumbled through the water, trying but failing to grasp hold of anything that would halt her progress.
Suddenly, the end of the river came rushing toward her.
No, not the end. A waterfall.
She barely had time to brace herself before she was falling, the weight of the water crashing behind her.
Sunlight prized her eyelids apart.
Wincing, Danae eased herself onto her elbows. From the pain lancing across her ribs, it felt like she’d broken them all. Drawing shallow breaths through the ache, she took stock of her surroundings. She was lying, half submerged, on the bank of a lagoon. Despite the torrent that hurtled down the mossy rock face from the river above, the water was calm. It lapped gently at her torso as if it had been disturbed by nothing more than a tumbling stone. Then she noticed the cloud of red blossoming into the blue around her. Clenching her teeth, she heaved herself further up the bank, her sodden bag that she miraculously still had dragging alongside her.
Nausea lurched up her throat as she looked down at her legs. A shard of her left thigh bone had broken through the skin, her blood pumping thick and fast into the water. Tentatively, she prodded the flesh near the crest of bone. She felt nothing. That was bad, very bad.
When they were children, Santos had broken his arm diving from the cliffs on their beach. She’d only been seven, but she remembered the waxy pallor of her brother’s face as her father pulled him from the water. She’d thought him so brave for not crying. But later, back at their hut, his screams echoed to the sun and back when their mother reset the bone. The shock of the fall delayed the pain, but when it finally came it was all-encompassing.
