‘Say it.’
Odysseus inclined his head. ‘I am a loyal member of the Children of Prometheus.’
Danae’s heart thundered so fast she could barely hear him. The secret organization of mortals who kept Prometheus’ prophecy alive so that she, the last daughter, might one day overthrow the gods. Manto, the brave person who had first revealed the prophecy to Danae, and their father, the exiled seer Phineus, had both been members. As she thought of them, the recollection of something Manto had said darted across her mind. ‘A member of the Children would never reveal themselves.’
Odysseus’ smile broadened to a grin. ‘Oh, but they would … to the last daughter.’
Danae took a step back, the metal bundled in her hands clinking as she moved.
Odysseus fell to his knee, all studious calm stripped away. His men followed, sinking in a ripple across the ship. She looked at Hylas, seeking the reassurance she often used to find in his face, but was met only with a cold stare, then a flash of irritation as he leant on his crutch and slowly loweredhimself to the ground, his wooden leg bending beneath him on its ankle joint.
Danae glanced at Telamon and Atalanta. They were the only two left standing.
The warrior curled her lip. ‘I’m not fucking kneeling.’
‘Get up.’ Danae’s face burned.
Odysseus and Hylas obliged, but the crew remained in reverence.
‘What makes you think I’m the person you seek?’
‘I’d heard whispers from my contacts in Delphi that the last daughter had come and destroyed the oracle –when the prophet falls. Then I crossed paths with Hylas, and he told me of your abilities.’ Odysseus’ eyes gleamed. ‘I knew you must be the one from Prometheus’ prophecy.’
Danae’s brow creased. She was sure that when Manto rescued her from the prison beneath Apollo’s sanctuary, they had told her that they were the only person who knew the last daughter had come. Perhaps they had been mistaken.
‘We are, all of us here, members of the Children of Prometheus,’ Odysseus continued, gesturing about the ship. ‘Every man here is your humble servant, honoured to lay down his life for the cause.’
Danae stared at him, each beat of her heart driving a wave of relief through her chest. Part of her still couldn’t believe this was real. Hylas’ return from the dead had stripped away all her cunning.
‘Tell me,’ pressed Odysseus, ‘why has Metis summoned me? My father passed down the knowledge from my ancestors that she will not stand against the Olympians. Perhaps your coming has changed her mind?’
The sun had been swallowed by the sea, the chill of thenight creeping over the ship. Danae shivered, her throat thickening as she thought of Metis’ body lying cold and lifeless upon the earth.
‘She sent for you because Poseidon came to the island.’
Odysseus’ eyebrows rose. ‘What became of that encounter?’
Danae hesitated for a moment, then untied the bundled fabric in her hands.
‘He is dead.’
Gold clanged onto the deck, a shard of trident skidding to a halt at Hylas’ sandal. He gazed down at the pieces of metal, then his eyes flicked up to meet Danae’s. Something flashed through his gaze, like a star shooting across the darkness. It happened so quickly she could not divine what it was.
Odysseus laughed, a full belly rumble. He turned to his men. ‘The last daughter has already begun to deliver us from the tyranny of the Olympians, who are no longer twelve, but eleven!’
‘Ten,’ corrected Atalanta.
Odysseus spun to face her.
The warrior squared her shoulders. ‘Hades too is slain.’
Light danced in Odysseus’ eyes. He looked down at the scattered fragments of armour and trident as though they were a puzzle he must piece together.
‘And what of Metis? Does she await us on Delos?’
‘She died fighting Poseidon,’ Danae said quietly.
The joyous spark died in Odysseus’ eyes.
