“Jason’s right. We’ve had more than bad luck on this voyage.”
Atalanta turned her acid stare on Telamon. “You can’t seriously agree with that prick?”
“It’s because of Hera.”
Zeus’s wife. Danae’s stomach hollowed. “Why do you think that?”
“I’ve never told you this.” Telamon shot Atalanta a guilty glance. “A couple of years ago, I got Dolos really drunk—”
“I don’t remember that.”
“You were in some woman’s bed.”
Atalanta grunted.
“Anyway,” Telamon continued, “he became morose and went on about how the gods had ruined Heracles.” He glanced at the sky and lowered his voice. “Dolos said that it was Hera who drove Heracles mad the night he killed his family, out of spite for being her husband’s favorite bastard. And she’s had it in for him ever since.”
“So, you think the Queen of Heaven has been attacking the Argonauts to get at Heracles?” Atalanta shook her head. “Why now? She could have taken him down so many times on his labors. I don’t buy it.”
“The gods work in mysterious ways.”
“Fuck that. Something else is at play here.”
Danae should have been worried. But she was pierced through with white-hot rage. Heracles’s children were innocents, just like Arius. The gods weren’t careless, they were cruel.
You can make them pay, said the voice.You are the reckoning.
“How did Jason find out?” The glower Atalanta reserved especially for him returned as she stared at the captain’s back. “I thought Creon hushed it up, and we were the only ones who knew the truth.”
Danae remembered what Jason had said on the beach at Iolcos. Hera told him of his true parentage and set him on the path to reclaim his throne. Perhaps she’d revealed other things too.
They were interrupted by a crash from the rowing benches.
“Hold the oars!” shouted Jason.
Peleus lay crumpled in the footwell.
“Peleus!” Telamon yanked against his bindings. “Untie me! For the love of the gods, he’s my brother!”
A trickle of blood ran out from behind the bench.
“Where’s the healer?” Jason looked around. “Dolos...” The name died before it had fully left his lips.
Danae paced across the deck and clambered over the benches. Jason pulled apart the side of Peleus’s tunic to reveal two deep gashes across his stomach. His skin was drained of color, brow beaded with cold sweat.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” said Jason.
“Didn’t want any bother.” A thin smile twitched Peleus’s pale lips. “It’s not that bad.”
Jason looked at Danae. They were all looking at her.
“We need to stop the bleeding.” She racked her memory for anything that might help, and recalled what her mother had done when, as a boy, Calix had torn his thigh open climbing.
“I need cloth.”
She wasn’t going to let another Argonaut die. Not if she could help it.
Orpheus ripped the top section from his tunic and handed it to Danae. She balled it between her fists and pressed it against Peleus’s wounds. He groaned. Already, the muscles in her arms were spasming with the effort. Curse her weakness.
