It was a subdued crew that packed up theArgoand headed back out onto the Black Sea. Without their navigator, Jason took charge of the steering oar.
“I’ve consulted Tiphys’s maps, and if we keep the coast to our right, we should reach Colchis in a month. From there we need to watch out for a river that flows inland, that should take us close to the city. The end is in sight, Argonauts!”
The crew mustered a cheer.
And beyond the city lay the Caucasus Mountains. Danae’s chest fluttered with excitement. Finding Prometheus was the beacon that had guided her through the darkest moments of the voyage. Now it felt tangible, like she could almost grasp hold of it.
And she didn’t have to do it alone.
As the crew moved to take their places on the rowing benches, Heracles brushed past her, and their fingers touched.
She felt the prickle of eyes on her and glanced around to see Dolos turning away. Since rejoining theArgo, he’d behaved like Heracles was a child in his care, rather than a seasoned hero who’d seen more danger than the rest of Greece put together. Perhaps there was some truth in what Telamon said on the beach. Maybe Dolos held more than friendship in his heart for Heracles.
In the weeks that followed the cold became an onslaught. Danae had never known a chill like it. She shivered constantly, despite the full-body furs the crew now wore. Gone were the days of sweat glistening on bare backs. The rowers pulled the oars with numb hands, red noses and cracked lips. At least having Heracles back on the benches relieved a great deal of strain from the rest of the Argonauts, his strength nearly doubling their speed. The men were still wary of the hero, but he was an undeniable asset.
Since the Stymphalian birds attack, there hadn’t been any interference from the gods. Danae wasn’t comforted by this. If anything, it made her more uneasy. It felt like they were playing a game, keeping her at arm’s length and testing her powers. Studying her.
But despite the peril of her situation, her mind was elsewhere.
She knew she must tell Heracles about Prometheus and the prophecy before they reached Colchis, but despite her best efforts she hadn’t been able to engineer time alone with him.
The Argonauts took their breaks from the benches in shifts. Being so few, only two men at a time were given respite from rowing to quickly eat and wick their thirst, before returning to the oars.
Danae sat huddled on the stern platform, her furs wound so tightly around her she could barely draw a full breath. Her gaze began its usual haunt across the mountainous regions of Heracles’s shoulders, when Jason called, “Castor, Pollux, back to the benches and relieve Heracles.”
Danae’s heart clenched like a fist as the hero set down his oar and turned, his face seeking hers. Their eyes met, and his ocean-deep gaze struck through her like one of his father’s thunderbolts. Without hesitating to think, she eased herself down onto the mid-deck and slipped into the store cabin. Once inside, her eyes darted around at the cramped interior, unable to settle while her heartbeat thumped in her stomach.
A moment passed, then another. And another.
The vibration in her body slowed, and a deep flush prickled her cheeks. She was being foolish: of course he wasn’t going to follow her in. She cast around for something she could claim brought her to the store cabin. She settled on a waterskin, then moved toward the door. Her hand was almost at the latch when it opened.
Heracles squeezed himself into the room. Danae dropped the waterskin as the hero closed the door behind him. He was so tall he had to bow his head, his shoulders resting against the cabin ceiling.
They looked at each other for a breath, then Heracles sank to his knees, still almost as tall as she was, and pulled her into him. Their fingers tangled in each other’s furs as they fought through the layers of hide to the skin beneath. The heat of him under her hands set a fire roaring up her arms and down to the furnace of her stomach. She gasped as his mouth moved up her neck, his teeth grazing her flesh. She pushed the lion hide from his head and buried her face in his hair as his hands gripped her back. She drank in the smell of him, that intoxicating musk that was only his. She had been tentative before, a stranger to the intricacies of his body, but emboldened by the pleasure she now knew how to give, she reached for him.
The door opened. Like a whip had been cracked between them, they leaped apart.
Dolos stood in the doorway, a statue of displeasure. “The wind has died. Jason wants you back on the bench.”
“Jason can fuck off,” growled Heracles.
The volcano that had been brewing inside Danae erupted. “Get out,” she spat at the healer, and beneath her feet the floorboards cracked.
For a moment, she didn’t realize what she’d done, then she saw fear flicker across Dolos’s face and followed his gaze downward.
The healer backed out of the cabin and she heard Jason calling, “Did we hit something?”
“No,” Dolos replied. “A barrel fell in the store.”
She could feel the reproach in Heracles’s movements as he fastened his lion hide.
“You need to be more careful.”
“You’re one to talk.” Her words came out with far more venom than she intended.
Heracles looked like he was going to say something else, then he turned toward the door.
“You’re not going?”
