Page 60 of This Divine Revelry

‘Echo, really,’ I repeat, though I’d intended to tell him to lift it.

Hermes smiles. ‘Hermes, you’re far more handsome than my husband, Dionysus.’

‘My husband, Dionysus.’ I snatch Dionysus’s thyrsus and point it at the god.

Hermes shrugs. ‘It was worth a try.’

He waves his hand.

‘I don’t think this is helping,’ I say as my tongue becomes my own again. I hand Dionysus’s stick back.

‘Great, let’s quit while we’re all thoroughly entertained, shall we?’ Dionysus asks, taking the thyrsus from me. His hand brushes mine and I startle.

I’d prepared myself for intentional touches, the performance of a love we are feigning. This accidental one shoots through me. And I wish, instantly, that Hermes wasn’t here and that we didn’t have a gaggle of people watching so we could … be ourselves, I suppose. Without all this pressure.

Then, as though he is remembering the pretence too, Dionysus’s hand falls to my waist, like it is the only way to stand close to me.

Hermes clears his throat. ‘I think perhaps it is better to begin where we know power has been displayed and work outwards.’

‘No,’ Dionysus snaps. ‘We aren’t doing that.’

‘Yes, we are,’ I protest, turning to him – stepping away from his touch, but he reaches back out, snatching my hand. ‘Hermes is right: we don’t have the luxury of time to be inefficient with this.’

‘Ariadne,’ Dionysus pleads, his hand gripping tight. ‘What if it works? You’ll be locked into torment.’

‘Brother, I can lift the curse at any time,’ Hermes says gently. ‘It won’t be like what you faced. I promise.’

Dionysus looks wary, his eyes round and vulnerable. A lock of hair falls into his face and I want to push it out again, to soothe him. I want to talk about what happened to him, rather than allowing him to shut it down and only mention it when, like this, it pushes him to break.

His eyes dip and, in a quiet voice, he says: ‘Don’t let go of me, please. If you’re going to do this, then I don’t want you to face it alone like last time.’

I nod, twining my fingers through his.

I turn to Hermes. ‘I’m ready. Curse me as she did.’

He crosses over to me this time, no waving hands or muttered curses.

His glance slides to Dionysus. ‘It will be alright.’

Then his fingers press into my forehead.

The labyrinth materializes before me, like mist overlaying the ship. It can’t cement itself, can’t become solid. It rises up around me, but I push it aside, focus past it on the people hovering at the stern of the boat, then, before me. On Dionysus, his hand tight in mine. Each of his fingers curled, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into my skin. And I squeeze tight on to reality and wave the vision away.

Hermes solidifies before me, his hand steadied, ready to lift the curse at any moment.

‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘It wasn’t as vivid this time – like the vision was hovering over reality rather than replacing it.’

‘What?’ Dionysus says, more panicked than I’d expected.

‘It’s fine!’ I say hurriedly. ‘It fell away when it couldn’t take hold.’

He remains tense, searching my face like he might find something there. ‘Alright. It’s just … only Hera’s curses ever fully replaced reality. When it was my own mind, it was more like what you describe – falsehood interwoven, an encroachment … But you can’t see it any more?’

I nod, squeezing the hand I hold. ‘The hallucination faded. It was the labyrinth again – but this time I knew the way out.’

‘Interesting,’ Hermes interjects. ‘Shall we try some more? The mind is a complex thing. There are a number of ways to break it.’

I take a breath. ‘Great, can’t wait. Let’s do this.’