The lie she had told aboard theArgo. She cursed silently toherself. Try as she might to fit effortlessly into her old disguise, she could not help bursting the seams and tearing the fabric.
‘Of course, but I do not count on Hades’ favour. We should tread carefully. Hades might be angry that we have entered his kingdom uninvited. If we can, we should avoid him altogether.’
Orpheus shook his head. ‘He is the only one who can give me my Eurydice back – I must petition him. Besides, they say Persephone, his wife, is a sweet, caring goddess, I know I can convince her to take pity on our plight; me a mourning husband, you a loyal sister …’
When Danae did not reply, he continued, ‘Do you think the stories are true about the creature that guards the entrance to the Underworld? I’ve heard Kerberos is a monstrosity, more terrible than anything Heracles ever faced and –’
‘Orpheus, be quiet.’ An ache throbbed behind Danae’s eyes.
They continued in silence, save for the clip-clop of Hylas’ hooves and the trickling water running down the walls.
Suddenly, Orpheus stopped. ‘Look there,’ he breathed.
Danae crept forward into the pool of firelight and crouched to investigate what lay across their path. It was a skeleton, the flesh almost entirely wasted, just a wisp of hair and an old grey tunic clinging to mouldering bones.
She pointed to the corpse’s shattered legs. ‘Probably broken by the collapsing shaft.’ Or something else, she thought, but did not voice it. Marks stretched from the body into the blackness of the tunnel. ‘They tried to drag themself out,’ she murmured.
‘Gods …’ Orpheus paled.
‘Come on.’ Danae walked past the body, gesturing for him to follow. The musician picked his way around the bones. When the sound of hooves did not follow, she called, ‘Hylas.’
The horse wouldn’t move.
‘Hylas, come here.’
The horse sniffed at the body and tossed his head. Danae sighed, walked back to the corpse and moved the bones to the side of the passage.
‘What are you doing?’ Orpheus looked horrified. ‘You can’t just shove them aside, what if their ghost takes offence?’
Danae dusted the dirt from her hands. ‘They’ve been left here to rot. I doubt they’ll care about being moved a foot.’
‘Wouldn’t you care if someone treated your sister’s remains like that?’
A surge of rage burned her throat, but as she opened her mouth to voice it, Hylas trotted towards them and nibbled Orpheus’ ear. The musician smiled and patted his neck. As Danae watched them, her anger cooled.
‘Aren’t you at least going to say the funeral rites?’ prompted Orpheus.
Of course, she was supposed to be a seer.
She huffed a breath through her nose, then swiftly intoned, ‘May the Twelve see you and know you, may the Keres spread their wings over you as you walk the path of judgement. May your soul find peace across the final river.’ Finally, she touched her finger to her forehead.
Once the ritual was performed, Hylas stalked ahead as though nothing had happened. She shook her head. Sometimes it seemed like the winged horse riled her for sheer enjoyment.
The tunnel continued to descend, the torchlight licking up its gleaming walls until the orange glow spilled over a ledge.
‘This is where the shaft must have collapsed,’ said Orpheus, peering into the darkness.
They stood on the edge of a vast ravine. Veins of green marble snaked through walls of solid rock, falling away into the blackness below. The remains of a wooden platformwith a rope pulley system clung to the ledge, the rest of the contraption lost to the ravine.
‘What do you think, Hylas? Can you take us down?’
The horse eyed them both, then lowered his head. Danae helped Orpheus climb onto Hylas’ back, his legs behind the horse’s wing joints, then she swung herself up in front. She gave Hylas’ neck a last smooth before winding her fingers through his mane and whispering, ‘Go slow, we can’t lose the light.’ She looked back at the musician. ‘Hold on to me. Flying can be a shock the first time.’
Orpheus wrapped his free arm around her waist.
To his credit, he only let out a small gasp as they soared into the air. Danae had grown to love the motion of Hylas’ body in flight. It reminded her of being at sea. In the past year, between the bouts of running, stealing and life-thread training, on a cloudy day, she’d urge the winged horse higher and higher until they broke through the barrier of mist into the boundless sky beyond. It was like being suspended in a vast ocean of air. There was only stillness beyond the clouds, in that never-ending blue. And when the sun rose in the east and spilt its light across the white carpet beneath, the whole world looked golden. Up there she felt detached from the earth below. All the pain, the fear, the longing.
The torch stuttered as Hylas flapped his wings.
