Page 85 of This Divine Revelry

When I turn, he’s rushing up to me, looking just as baffled by everything that has occurred as I am, and he doesn’t get to do that – to claim he himself is surprised when he’s just ruined everything we had been working towards.

‘What?’ I demand.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have –’

‘No, you shouldn’t have!’ I cry, louder than before even though he’s in front of me now. ‘How are we supposed to stop this if we’re being asked to leave the palace?’

‘I’ll fix this,’ he promises, reaching for my hand, but I pull it from his grasp. ‘I’ll … We can send Hermes or I’ll disguise myself or –’

‘We were so close!’ I protest. ‘What could possibly have been so upsetting that you opted for violence?’

Dionysus swallows and his eyes flick down the hall, to where Theseus has disappeared. The rage consumes them once more. ‘He said the only reason you were with me right now was because he left you. That he could take you back the moment he pleased.’

‘Well, I’m so sorry for the blow to your ego,’ I snarl, throwing my hands up, but he catches them, holding them tight.

His eyes meet mine and he seems to be weighing something up before eventually declaring: ‘He told me what he’d do to you. Explicitly. He threw in a few choice terms and commended your performance last time and then he … he said he’d thought the only thing you were good for was bolstering tales but evidently you had some secondary talents too. That maybe he’d share such talents with the court of Athens once you fled with him.’

My heart pounds – my own fury spiking, and … I can feel Dionysus’s split knuckles, the blood still marking them …

‘You could have cursed him again,’ I say, but it’s half-hearted, and he clearly knows it too.

There’s no hesitation to his gaze when he says: ‘I could have. It seemed too good for him – and frankly I was too angry to conceive of the options.’

I squeeze his hands without even thinking. He takes a ragged breath, like he had not allowed himself to until my forgiveness was a potential outcome.

‘At a certain point I didn’t even care what he was saying,’ he says. ‘I just wanted to rip your name from his tongue.’

I’ve pulled him closer, my fingers threading through his and drawing him near – and I don’t even realize I’ve done it until he says that, and my gaze flits to his own tongue, his lips so very close.

He doesn’t release me, doesn’t pull back. He’s just breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling like he would take in every breath of me. His words replay in my mind – and from the way he is looking at me, like I am the only bright thing in this darkness, I suspect he too is realizing what this means with each desperate gasp.

‘Ariadne, I –’

‘Would you have done that for anyone else?’ I interrupt.

His gaze flits across my face, like he’s searching for the answer. He meets my eyes, like if there were a solution, it would be in them. ‘I’d be furious, I’m sure,’ he admits. ‘But only you could make me quite so livid.’

It occurs to me, suddenly and surely, that loving Dionysus would not hurt me.

He would not hurt me. I don’t know where I stand on anything else, what I’m ready for or how I can possibly cope with everything and its fallout, but I know that he would stand by my side through it all.

That’s it, isn’t it? Everything else once loud and screaming, now fading into the background. Because he would be there. He’s here, now. Those green eyes, piercing mine, his hands tight in my grip. He’s here.

‘Please tell me it’s still working,’ I say, half choked with it all. ‘Because I’d really like to kiss you right now.’

‘It’s always worked, Ariadne,’ he answers, in the breath before we collide.

His lips are soft and insistent, his hands encircling my waist so that my hips are flush against his. The wall hits my back as we stumble with our ferocity. Heat flares everywhere, quick and demanding and my fingers push into that mess of curls, tugging him more fervently towards me, as though each breath, each stumbling break is a moment better spent against one another.

His breath fills my lungs and it’s like I never quite knew how to breathe.

The gentle hum of the party spikes loud – the doors opening, falling heavily shut. Footsteps coming our way.

We jolt apart as though caught in some transgression – then look sharply back at each other.

‘We’ve already set this aflame,’ he says, panting.

I nod, not sure what exactly he has planned, only that the wicked gleam in his eyes is at once alarming and … thrilling. Yes. Whatever it is, yes. ‘Burn it down,’ I agree.