Page 33 of This Divine Revelry

‘Natural causes, I assure you.’

‘I see.’

‘All gods need symbols. The good things were taken so I had to get creative.’

‘Are the symbols not meant to embody power? What does a pine cone achieve?’

‘Hades has a bird-tipped staff so why can’t I have a pine cone?’

‘Hades has a throne and a crown. You have amphorae of wine and delusions of grandeur.’

He snaps his fingers at me. ‘Exactly. You see the vision.’

I take a breath. ‘It’s astonishing to me how many beautiful, brilliant women there are in your thiasus, yet you’re supposedly the man they’re all meant to follow.’

‘Eh, sort of.’ He shrugs. ‘Follow? They’re the brains of the operation; I’m just the brand name to slap on it. Beautiful and brilliant? Yes, but I certainly wouldn’t call that astonishing, Alcinoe, so shame on you. And man? When it suits me. Gender’s a little like a pine cone – a thing you put on top and hope it makes a point.’

I blink. ‘That is the worst analogy I’ve ever heard.’

‘Alright, well, if you want me to get into it, I spent a good deal of my childhood disguised as a girl to hide from my evil stepmother. Being a boy again felt much the same: like a thing I slipped on. So by all means, see me as a man, because it’s the costume I’m currently wearing and Fates know I wear it very well. But I don’t particularly feel like I have a gender, nor am I attached to the labels I’m donning. They’re just a rather convenient tool with which to navigate this world and, on occasion, they’re fun to play with. Now, do you want to delve further into my theories regarding the performative nature of gender or do you want to sit down, because you’re swaying on your feet?’

The world had suddenly become a touch hazy.

‘I tried the wine,’ I admit, taking to the nearest cushion. ‘You’re right. It’s good.’

A smile twitches on his face as he drops down beside me. He takes a cup and I reach for one too, which probably isn’t sensible but, well – where’s the fun in sensible?

‘I’ll make a worshipper out of you yet.’

Oh, right, that’s why sensible Ariadne was supposed to be taking the reins. ‘I’m not worshipping you. But I will consider heading up your publicity team if you ask nicely.’

‘Take that, Helios! Andronika, will you please protect my reputation in the eyes of the public?’

‘Alright, for my first act …’ I rip the pine cone from his staff and hurl it as far as I can – which is a mere handful of feet.

Dionysus gawks. ‘You know, if my analogy was anything to go by, you just threw away the whole concept of gender.’

‘I’ve always been rather indifferent to it anyway.’

‘Well, I’ll drink to that.’ He raises his cup and I lift mine to match.

‘So where have you been all evening?’ I ask. ‘Isn’t the whole point of this to spread word of your worship?’

‘Well, yes. But we come to Cabarnis a lot so I don’t really need to do that here. Which leaves me free to revel away – dance, bash some drums, visit an orgy tent or two. You get the picture.’

My nose creases. ‘Far too vividly.’

‘I’m only joking, Arete,’ he says at my eye-roll, then waits until the moment I take a sip to add: ‘They don’t let me partake any more. Talent like mine makes everyone a little self-conscious and is generally bad for morale.’

I just about manage to keep the wine down – but as I sputter he presses his advantage: ‘So, new girl, are you going to tell me who you truly are? Or how you really ended up on Naxos?’

His eyes are almost emerald in this low light, though no less intense than they ever were. They pin me in place, daring me to even try my fables.

‘I’m a priestess.’

‘Liar.’

The word lingers on his tongue, a slow, echoing accusation.