Page 79 of This Divine Revelry

‘He didn’t tell you I was alive,’ I say.

‘Yes.’ She takes a shaky breath. ‘That hasn’t escaped my notice.’

‘So he’s doing the same to you – keeping you isolated and visiting you when he wants something?’

Zosime begins fidgeting with her hair, braiding and unbraiding strands. ‘Apparently. But what else can I do? My parents sold me to the Athenian court, Ariadne. They put out a request for tributes and my father got two goats for handing me over. I’m not supposed to be alive right now and it’s not like I have a home to go back to. Being the king’s mistress is better than I could have hoped for.’

It is not my tale, but there’s an echo there that mirrors mine, that hugs its crevices and fits a near-enough shape.

Do you consent if every word – if the person themself – was a lie?

Is no even an option if he’s your king? If your alternative is a family who sent you to your death, how can you possibly agree?

The questions wind in, the scenarios unlimited, pushing on and on and on, and I am so very sick of this infernal trap.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says, quickly. ‘I never –’

‘You didn’t do anything wrong,’ I say, just as fast. Choices made from within the labyrinth are hardly decisions at all. We need to forge other ways forward. ‘You have another option. Come with us.’

She startles. ‘What?’

‘I understand,’ I say – because what would I have done if someone else had landed on that island and it was yes or never leave? Yes or the inevitable death from exposure? Yes or being returned to my father? ‘If you want to be with Theseus – you truly want to, then despite what we’ve been told, I don’t think that want is a horrifying thing. But if you don’t have another real option or you just want space to consider … come with us.’

Zosime’s gaze softens. ‘The servants said there was partying in the city. That the women there had gathered and were dancing through the night.’

There’s so much hope in her voice – but trepidation too. Like she is waiting for the catch. And it all just makes me so much more furious. ‘Men like Theseus don’t matter so much when you have women in numbers. We do. And you can be one of them.’

‘You were wonderful,’ Dionysus says as the door closes behind us.

‘I didn’t say anything she didn’t already know.’

‘Sometimes it needs to be said.’ He shakes his head. ‘I don’t think you see it, Ariadne. The impact you have. You upended this whole palace to save lives. You ruined a dinner with a few well-placed suggestions. You’re brilliant – and you inspire people to be more.’

I swallow, thinking of those giggling girls earlier. The smiles and the laughter that follow in his wake. ‘You do the same.’

He shakes his head. ‘It’s not me, it’s us. I’ll speak up, sure, but not over. I only ever wanted to utilize this godhood to give other people the power to change the world – and I think you’re exactly the sort of person who’s going to do that.’

And it’s not what he’s saying – this is the same rhetoric he’s always claimed. But the weight – the implication. The idea he is preparing for a world without him.

‘Dionysus –’ I start, but he grasps my elbow as though to guide me.

‘To that banquet, shall we?’

‘Dionysus!’ I repeat, more sternly.

Resigned, he sighs. ‘This might not be anything. And if it is, well, it is as I once said: let’s have as much fun and wreak as much havoc in the interim as we can.’

Isn’t he right? If he does fall ill, wouldn’t I have wanted to seize every chance to hold his hand, even if false? Every kiss, even if it’s a sweet and bitter lie?

Every smile, even if it’s a performance?

‘Very well,’ I agree. ‘But it won’t work. It hasn’t worked. Your efforts to push me away. I care about you and I think I’m going to care about you for a very long time. Please accept that.’

He blinks but he looks … lost. Just thoroughly, completely lost. ‘You don’t deserve this.’

I trace my hand down the side of his face. I don’t think – if I did, I’d be putting distance between us, not wanting to overwhelm him. ‘I deserve you. Every part of you. And every part of your struggles too – you’re here with me for mine, are you not? We’re wed. We’re bound. I’m here. So please let me be here.’

His hand comes up over mine, holding tight – letting it linger just a moment against his cheek before bringing it back down.