‘Yes,’ Danae lied, wiping her cheeks and stepping away from the horse. ‘How is Heracles?’
‘He’s alive. Just. The next few hours will be crucial.’ Metis’ eyes swept over her. ‘You should eat something.’ She disappeared back inside.
Danae gave Pegasus an encouraging pat. ‘I’m well,’ she whispered. ‘I promise.’
The horse tossed his head as she walked back towards the dwelling, each step an effort. She was so exhausted she could no longer feel anything. In a way, she was glad. Numbness was preferable to fear.
She lingered before the doorway. The entrance seemed to gape at her like a great, toothless mouth. Summoning the last crumbs of her strength, she stepped inside.
Metis thrust a bowl and waterskin into Danae’s hands before returning to her vigil at Heracles’ side.
Danae drank then looked down at the contents of the bowl. It appeared to be filled with dried cicadas.
‘Eat, you’ll feel better.’
Danae tentatively crunched one between her teeth. It was surprisingly nutty. After a few mouthfuls she did start to feel more human.
‘Which one of them put that on you?’ asked Metis quietly, staring at the collar.
‘Hades,’ Danae murmured.
‘Hm. You’re lucky that’s all he did.’
‘He’s dead,’ Danae said sharply.
‘And I suppose you killed him too, did you?’
‘Not exactly. Charon, the ferryman, set free the dragon imprisoned in Tartarus, who burned him to ash.’
‘That’s quite a tale.’
‘No stranger than a godlike being living in exile on a barren spit of land.’
Metis huffed a breath through her nose and checked Heracles’ pulse.
‘Why did Prometheus tell me to seek you out?’
For a while it seemed like Metis would not answer, then eventually she said, ‘For the same reason the Children of Prometheus came to me. Because I opposed Zeus. A long time ago.’
Danae recalled what Phineus, Manto’s father, the seer, had told her about Prometheus, that he had seen the downfall of the gods in the omphalos shard and along with his prophecy, had given the stone to mankind so they might rise up against the tyranny of the Twelve.
‘You were on Prometheus’ side? On the side of mortals?’
Metis shook her head. She reached across to a stack of bowls and slipped her hand between the third and fourth, pulling out an amulet. At first, Danae thought it was a twin of the one Dolos had carried, that bore Zeus’s crest. But this was smaller, cast from bronze, its design more crudely carved.
Metis proffered it to her. Engraved at its heart was the tree.
‘The tree of knowledge,’ Danae breathed.
Metis barked out a laugh. ‘The Children of Prometheus know only a fragment of the truth. The man of their order who came here gave this to me. He too wanted to know whose side I was on. Said to send that to him once I had decided. I told him his grandchildren would be dead before that pendant returned to Ithaca. People only choose a side if they’re ready to go to war.’
Danae watched her, weighing her words. ‘How did you oppose Zeus?’
Metis waved her question away. ‘The hour is late, and I have the lad to tend to. Get some rest.’
Begrudgingly, Danae lay down on the leaf-strewn floor while Metis returned to her work.
After a while she murmured, ‘I didn’t think it was possible to heal others. I’ve only ever been able to heal myself with my powers.’
