“Thank the gods, you need to come to the ship. Peleus is hurt.”
As the pair hurried back to theArgo, Danae took Heracles’s arm and steered him toward the dunes.
“Daeira, wait,” Jason called as he waded onto the beach. “Where are you going?”
“Heracles and I need to speak in private.”
Revealing her abilities had shifted the power dynamic, and they both knew it. He was still the captain and she his seer, but she could end his life as easily as blowing out a candle.
Jason pressed his mouth into a line. “All right. But don’t go too far.”
She nodded, then turned back to Heracles. Together, they paced up the sandy dunes away from the shore.
“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “I didn’t mean...”
“No, you were right.” It had never really been Heracles she was angry with.
If she’d known that staying on theArgowould result in Hylas being slaughtered and left unburied, she might have gone back. But what upset her more than learning his fate was the part of her that knew, even if she’d had the foresight, she would still have left him.
Danae and Heracles sat side by side on the hero’s lion hide, hidden behind the dunes as they gazed out over the ocean.
He hadn’t looked at her since she’d told him what Jason had revealed about his family.
“You must think me a monster.”
Her eyes traced the outline of his face against the darkening sky. He’d never looked more human.
“I know you were drugged. Telamon told me the truth, that Hera was to blame. But the rest of the crew...” She hesitated. “They think you killed them in cold blood.”
Heracles said nothing. She loathed twisting the knife in further, but he had to know.
“They believe all the misfortune that’s befallen us on this voyage is because you broke your agreement with Eurystheus. They think Hera’s been punishing you.”
Heracles barked out a laugh. “Hera’s methods are far more underhand than storms and monsters. Besides, Jason is her golden boy.” His voice tightened with spite. “She wouldn’t jeopardize him. If the gods are meddling with us, it’s nothing to do with me.”
He was right, but she couldn’t tell him. Not yet.
The hero leaned forward and buried his head in his hands. She hated seeing him like this.
“I know nothing I say will ease your guilt. But please believe me when I say you are not alone. I know what it feels like to see those you care for hurt because of who you are.”
She wanted to touch him, but she didn’t dare. He was so powerful and so powerless at the same time. They both were.
Heracles rubbed his face and let out a bone-weary sigh. “I would have been happy if I was born an ordinary man. Could have grown old with grandchildren pulling at my tunic.” His voice cracked. “I see their faces, every time I can’t save someone...”
His grief reached into her chest and wrapped its fingers around her heart. She saw Arius in Alea’s arms, his tiny fists tangled in her sister’s hair.
“All I have is my reputation. Heracles, the living legend. That’s what Zeus wanted me to be, what he made me become. You know, I’ve never even met him. My own father. He’s controlled my entire life, and I’ve never seen his face.”
She was stunned. “Never? Not even when you were younger?”
Heracles shook his head. “I don’t remember much of my childhood. Just empty marble rooms. Then Dolos came to look after me.”
Heracles’s mother had been a princess; Danae knew that much. Little was told of her beyond being the womb that bore the greatest hero who had ever lived.
“When Zeus came to your mother...how did he...?”
“He abducted and raped her,” Heracles said flatly.
