The girl who laid down the bowl smiled coyly, before scurrying away to fetch another tray of food.
Hypsipyle stood. “It is our custom that the hunter responsible for killing the beast carves the first slice.” She fondled her braid as she spoke, the bone figurines clinking together. She had the most talismans of all the hunters. “But tonight, the honor of the first cut is yours, captain of theArgoand rightful King of Iolcos.” She handed Jason a long, bone-handled blade and a two-pronged fork.
It was incongruous how effortlessly Hypsipyle slid into the role of fawning hostess. She seemed like an entirely different woman to the commanding warrior they’d met on the beach.
Danae was distracted as a plate of mushrooms was placed in front of her. She absentmindedly popped one in her mouth, then another, and another. Dolos was right, they were delicious. Earthy, sweet and spicy all at once.
With some effort, Jason pushed himself to his feet. As he stabbed the fork down into the crackling skin of the boar, a bead of sweat trickled down his nose.
The thought crossed Danae’s mind that something was not as it should be.
A woman appeared behind her and filled her empty cup with more of the sweet wine. As she leaned forward, her loose hair tumbled in a floral-scented cascade, brushing Danae’s shoulder. The woman swept it over the nape of her neck and when she drew back Danae found herself looking into a pair of round eyes rimmed with thick lashes. She realized she was staring and blushed. A smile played across the woman’s mouth as she moved along to fill Hylas’s glass, her gaze still lingering on Danae.
“Your Majesty—” Jason licked the meat grease from his fingers “—will the men of Lemnos be joining us?”
A shadow passed over Hypsipyle’s face. “There are no men of Lemnos.”
Jason looked confused. “They’ve left the island?”
“They have left, but not by ship.” Hypsipyle drained her cup, then held it out to be refilled. “It is a tale that requires more wine.” The woman who served Danae ran over to refresh her queen’s drink. Hypsipyle took a deep draft, wiped her mouth, then began.
“Lemnos was once a happy place. The women hunted, the men farmed, and the elders cared for the children. Everything was as it should be. One day, the queen led the hunt into the jungle, as she did each dawn. Her mantis begged her not to go. ‘No killing must be done today,’ she said. But the queen, eager to taste the excitement of the chase, did not listen.
“The hunters were climbing the mountain when she saw it. The most beautiful creature she’d ever laid eyes on, a hind so bright its fur shone like gold. What a prize, she thought, her eyes round as suns. She raised an arrow to her cheek, and with desire guiding the shaft, it sang true and found its mark. The hunters returned home with the slain beast, their high spirits echoing through the jungle. But when they reached the village they found the men lying on the ground, their eyes staring up at a sky they would never see again. They were dead, all of them, even the young boys. For the creature had been sacred to Artemis, and in her fury the goddess had taken what was sacred to the hunters.”
Hypsipyle wiped her cheeks. “Now we dedicate ourselves to honoring the Parthéna, and devote our lives to repaying that one, terrible mistake.”
Danae could picture the scene. Men falling from their treetop homes, their lifeless bodies crashing to the ground below, their families screaming. A crease formed between her brows. She knew firsthand how vengeful the gods could be, but if that was within their power, why hadn’t she been struck down in Delphi? Why had the harpies been fooled into believing she was dead? As she turned the puzzle over in her mind, she pushed another handful of mushrooms into her mouth, licking the purple petals from her fingers. Gods, they were good.
Jason laid a hand on Hypsipyle’s arm. “You poor women.”
Hypsipyle smiled tearfully and caressed Jason’s hand with her long fingers.
Danae’s eyes drifted across the pit. Many of the Argonauts were now talking to the hunters, loose-limbed and relaxed. Ancaeus had pulled a serving girl onto his lap, the woman giggling as she toyed with the fur of his bearskin. Atalanta was fondling the talismans in Peta’s hair, while the hunter described the kills that earned them.
Someone was missing, but she couldn’t work out who. The harder she tried to remember, the more insubstantial the thought became until it faded from her mind altogether.
She looked up through the open smoke hole. The sky was dark and flecked with stars. The feast must have been going on for much longer than she thought.
She’d always believed what her mother told her, that Apollo’s sun chariot dragged all the color from the world at the end of the day, only returning it again at dawn. But here the sky was filled with swathes of indigo and navy, obsidian, mahogany and deepest green all swirling around the most dazzling stars she had ever seen.
She reached for Hylas’s hand.
“Look up,” she whispered. “The stars are dancing.”
She glanced down at his face, then her gaze was drawn to something behind him.
Polyxo was staring at them, eyes bright, a sinister smile stretched over her wizened lips.
25
Vines and Venom
When Danae woke, everything around her was misty. She threw her arms out in front of her and was relieved when her fingers connected to fabric. She began to panic again when she couldn’t find an opening. It was like she was cocooned in the web of a giant spider. Then a pair of hands appeared through the curtain, drawing it back to expose the girl who had served Danae wine at the feast. An amused expression played across her full mouth as she pulled apart the swathes of material and tied them back to reveal the insides of a small wooden hut.
“It’s for the konops.”
Danae stared at her. The girl made a buzzing sound then slapped her arm.
