‘We have no other choice. They’re too dangerous to be left alive. Anyone with that much power is.’
Danae paused. ‘What about me?’
Atalanta looked up at her. ‘You are different.’
Warmth spread through Danae’s cheeks. She resumed washing the warrior’s arm.
‘If you’re scared about tomorrow, don’t be. Your power has grown stronger since we sailed aboard theArgo. I saw how you fought against Poseidon. And don’t forget you’ve got some pretty good warriors at your side.’
Danae pushed away any thoughts of Atalanta riding into battle. ‘Tell me about your home in Arcadia.’
Atalanta tensed as Danae ran the salt-sodden material over a half-healed gash across her shoulder.
‘The Athenians might have their olive groves and treasure houses, the Thebans their plains of golden barley, butthe forests in Arcadia are richer than any kingdom. In the woods across Mount Lykaion, there are no cities; no buildings of stone, no temples to maintain and no tithes to owe. We slept beneath the canopy, wet our lips with fresh springs and feasted on the abundance of the forest.’
‘It sounds perfect.’
‘It was.’
Danae recalled what the warrior had told her aboard theArgo: how a group of raiders had come to her forest and murdered her tribe of hunters. Her family. She continued to stroke the rag down Atalanta’s arm, drinking in the ridge of each scar, the hard swell of her bicep.
‘Did Artemis teach you to hunt?’
‘No. That was Nephele. She was the most talented woman with a bow I’ve ever known.’
‘That’s high praise coming from you.’
‘She had far more skill than I,’ Atalanta said fiercely. ‘She began teaching me to whittle my own arrows the day she found me.’ A whisper of breath hissed between her teeth as Danae moved the cloth down to her mud-splattered calves.
‘So, she stole you from your wolf pack …’ Danae traced the cloth up to the bones of her knee, then higher.
Atalanta grabbed her hand. ‘Enough.’
The warrior’s onyx eyes seemed to burn in the light from the lone candle. Longing expanded through Danae’s chest, but she dared not move. She half expected Atalanta to ask her to leave, then the warrior released her hand.
‘Tell me about Naxos.’
The breath hitched in Danae’s throat. She sat back on her heels.
‘My family live in a hut by the sea. It’s not much, but we have a yard, and for most of my life we kept goats and made cheese from their milk. When we had enough coin for theingredients Ma would make the best honey cakes I’ve ever tasted.’ She almost salivated at the memory. ‘There’s a dusty path that runs down from our gate to the beach and the cove where my father keeps his fishing tub. I learnt to swim in those waves before I could walk.’And in those same waves my sister perished.‘My brothers live nearby with their wives and babes, and beyond our village is Timon’s apple grove, I used to steal his fruit …’ she paused. ‘It must sound dull to you.’
Atalanta shook her head.
‘It sounds perfect.’
Danae’s throat thickened. She wanted to talk about Alea, remember all the things her sister had loved and hated. She had touched on what happened to her sister on Delos, but there had been too much to tell to linger on her memory. And Danae did not know what would be unleashed if she opened that cavern.
‘You’re scared about going back,’ Atalanta said softly.
Danae squeezed the cloth between her fingers.
‘It is not easy to long for a past you cannot return to. The place remains, but you know it will never be the same. Because of that, I will never return to Arcadia.’
‘Come to Naxos with me,’ Danae blurted. ‘When this is all over.’
The warrior shook her head. ‘You won’t see this face grow old.’
Danae’s hands tightened into fists. ‘You will not die tomorrow.’
