‘W-why?’
‘Forourfamily.’ Zeus’ face twisted into a mask of grief. Then his shoulders broadened as he said, ‘Iam Kronos, chosen to become one of the Twelve.’
Kronos’ mouth stretched wide, tears muddling with the blood seeping between his lips.
‘You cannot … the Mother will …’
‘She will do nothing. Just like she did nothing when Rhea died, when plague took half the village, when our crops failed and whole families starved. The Mother does not care for us. Neither do you.’
Kronos no longer saw the boy he’d raised, but a wild thing that had stolen his son’s skin.
Zeus’ face glowed in the swelling light. ‘I will use the apple’s gifts to help those in need. I will be a saviour. I will be the coming of a new dawn.’
Then Zeus dragged Kronos across the stony ridge. Kronos struggled in vain, his hands slick with his own blood as Zeus hauled him to the edge, then pushed him down the mountainside.
Part One
1. A Skull and a Crown
Danae crouched in the shadows at the mouth of the cave. It was a cloudless night; the ink-dark sky swirled with stars and a sickle moon. Athens sprawled out beneath her vantage point, halfway up a hill opposite the acropolis. Even at this hour, the city pulsed with life. So many people, so many lives intertwining, colliding.
Three years had passed since her last visit to the city, but the memory of her eighteen-year-old self trying to find her way to Delphi lingered uncomfortably under her skin. She could still taste the fear of standing in chains before a theatre of men bidding for her life, recall the terrible sounds of King Theseus’ hounds ripping apart his son’s body, and feel the bone-crushing hopelessness of door after door closing in her face. Its stone buildings may look beautiful in the moonlight, but to her the city of riches smelt like desperation, shame and piss.
A bone-white feather drifted across her vision. Then the warm breath of Hylas the winged horse tickled her cheek. When she did not move, he gently nipped her ear.
‘I know.’ Her gaze lifted to the acropolis. The hulking outlines of the Temple of Athena and King Theseus’ palace looked like two colossuses crouching under the stars. ‘Time to go.’
Hylas was already saddled, Danae’s meagre possessions stuffed into two pouches that hung down his flanks. She had stolen the saddle straight off the back of a nobleman’s mare in a town outside Thebes and crudely fashioned it to fit around Hylas’ wing joints.
She tucked her flyaway strands of hair into the rough braid that hung to the nape of her neck and pulled up the hood of her black seer’s cloak. Its length hid the ill-fitting brown tunic beneath – another stolen item, this one from a Phrygian farmer’s washing basket. It had been a long time since her clothes had seen a river. Hylas too was looking the worse for a year on the run, his once gleaming coat smeared with dirt, his tail knotted, his mane tangled.
‘We’re almost there,’ she whispered, smoothing his neck.
She mounted the winged horse and cast a final look around the cave that had been their home for the past five days. It was the longest they’d stayed in once place since fleeing the Caucasus Mountains a year earlier. She thought of the griffin’s cave that had been her shelter as she’d climbed the highest ice-encrusted peak to reach Prometheus, the Titan imprisoned for attempting to liberate mortals from the tyrannical Olympian gods. Even now, the words of his prophecy still echoed in her mind.When the prophet falls, and gold that grows bears no fruit, the last daughter will come. She will end the reign of thunder and become the light that frees mankind.
She screwed her eyes shut. She had travelled to the end of the world, betrayed her friends and dedicated all her strength to finding the man she believed would teach her how to fulfil her destiny. But the Titan had left her with nothing but questions. One, in particular, had consumed her. Eclipsing all else, it had driven her across rivers, mountains, cities and villages, while she fought to keep herself and Hylas concealed from the Twelve.
She opened her eyes. Tonight, she would finally get her answer.
Weaving her fingers through Hylas’ snowy mane, she locked them into their familiar hold. It was a risk, flying over a bustling city on such a clear night. But she could delay nolonger. She’d spent five days hiding in her cave so she could stake out the palace, learn the guards’ patrol route and King Theseus’ movements. Earlier that day, she had discovered that he was due to leave the city the following dawn to visit the King of Aetolia. It was now or never.
She dug her heels into Hylas’ sides, and he cantered across the rocky ground beyond the cave, then launched into the air on his vast feathered wings. Her hood blew back, the cloak streaming behind as her cheeks stung with anticipation.
You cannot run from your destiny, said the voice that had awoken inside her along with her power.
She pushed the words from her mind with practised force and braced herself as Hylas descended. As his hooves clattered onto the palace roof, she slid from his back to land softly on the tiles.
‘Don’t move,’ she whispered.
Hylas tossed his silky white mane, threaded silver in the moonlight.
‘You’ll have food soon, I promise.’
The horse eyed her then rippled his lips.
‘And wine.’
At that, Hylas pressed his muzzle into her hand, gently nibbling her fingers. The ghost of a smile curled Danae’s mouth. During their time together, she’d discovered the horse had a fondness for unmixed wine. No doubt a product of being raised on Olympus.
