Page 5 of This Divine Revelry

‘Ariadne.’

I blink – finding my sister still standing beside me and not running off to her room at the first opportunity. She hasn’t played the aulos since the last tribute but an Anatolian dignitary gifted her a barbitos a few weeks ago and I swear I can hear the softly plucked strings whenever I pass her door.

‘I’d like to speak with you,’ she says, pushing her shoulders back and tucking a loose blonde curl behind one ear.

I haven’t had a proper conversation with my sister in months, so please gods tell me my prying into the labyrinth has not made her suspect me too. Let her think me stupid – running the foolish risk of voicing my disturbance – and not probing for answers to something so much more unforgivable.

‘I expect Father will turn his attention to marriage offers once all this is over with.’

I nod. For months he’s been fixated on the coming tributes but I’m sure he’ll awake from his bloodthirst in a few days to the sudden realization he has two daughters of marriageable age and no arrangements in place.

‘Do you know who has expressed interest?’

‘No,’ I say slowly, trying to work out if there is any way this conversation might get us in trouble if we are overheard. Deciding that it’s one of the few things we might talk somewhat freely about, I add: ‘But dignitaries have been visiting. And our classes have been quite linguistically focused of late.’

Daedalus is brilliant. Having him teach his children is another press of Father’s power. Daedalus built half the ships in my father’s fleet. He created a labyrinth with a supposedly impossible door. And now he’s stuck teaching sums to girls. It’s intended to humiliate him, but Daedalus seems to have taken it in his stride, normally teaching us mechanics and formulae far beyond what any other tutor would consider sharing.

But for the last few months, it’s been Lydian, Lycian, Carian and Hittite, which clearly hasn’t escaped Phaedra’s notice either because she’s nodding and finally surmises: ‘They’re talking to kingdoms in Anatolia.’

I press my lips together. ‘I imagine other Hellenistic nations aren’t particularly excited to ally with us after … this.’

‘I imagine with such a display of our might, many would consider us,’ she says tightly. ‘I’m sure the Anatolians are only to have options in reserve – or perhaps Father means to host some sort of games for our hands and wants a wealth of contestants. Whatever it is he intends, I mean to inform you that – if there are options, if there are two, for instance – I will be doing my utmost to secure the best.’

I frown, needing a second to understand what she’s saying. And then, yes, of course. This is no moment of sororal bonding. This is a contest.

‘I see.’

‘Well?’ she pushes.

‘Well? What exactly do you expect me to say?’

She hisses, her tongue flicking between her teeth. ‘I want you to tell me you’ll do the same. I want you to try to best me, to make things even – so I don’t feel so damnably wretched about wanting to do whatever it takes to assure as decent a future for myself as I can, even if it means taking it from you.’

‘Forgive me,’ I say, unable to keep the edge from my voice, ‘if marriage isn’t at the top of my priorities right now.’

‘Don’t, Ariadne,’ she scolds. ‘Don’t make this worse like you always do.’

‘Always do?’

‘You provoke Father. Deliberately, I might add.’

Yes, normally to distract him from turning his wrath on my siblings, but I wouldn’t expect Phaedra to actually pick up on that. Zeus above, he was accusing her of fraternizing with that dignitary and might have had her lashed with the strings of that barbitos if I hadn’t jumped in with the suggestion I marry Prince Theseus of Athens. Mention of that city is the swiftest way to distract him and, well, better I take the rebuke than Phaedra.

‘We can discuss this later,’ I say firmly. ‘Perhaps I’ll take up the challenge after we have … nobly avenged our brother.’

Phaedra glares at me again, but now those oceanic eyes are alight with fury rather than scorched with their usual cold.

‘We only have to get through this one more time,’ she says, keeping her voice low. ‘And then we’ll be sent away. So don’t make me feel guilty about wanting a husband who takes me as far from this place as possible.’

Horns blare through the halls, and Phaedra startles. The Athenians are early.

It is time to discover who I am risking everything for.

CHAPTER THREE

MY DRESS IS THE COLOUR of a fading bruise. A deep mauve, dark and swollen. Dye so expensive I expect I’ll be wearing nothing but shades of purple for the duration of these celebrations.

One of my mother’s servants dresses me – a sign, perhaps, that my marriage is indeed impending, because no one replaced Charis once I got her on a boat to Mycenae.