Chapter 5
Blood and Bark
Everyone had heard the tales of mortals being impregnated by the gods, and the heroes their demigod children went on to become. But that was something that happened to people far away, not on their island. Not to the daughters of fishermen.
“Danae?”
The world came back into focus. Alea was watching her, waiting.
“That’s...it’s...”
“Wonderful.” Her sister placed her hand over her stomach.
At the expression on Danae’s face she said, “I know, I was scared at first too. I couldn’t remember anything and I thought I had lost my mind.
Then one night it came back to me. An eagle flew through my dreams, and when I woke, I could recall Zeus’s face.
I can feel it, Danae, the divine spark growing inside me.
Do you see now, all the hardship, all the pain will be worth it.
” She beamed. “Can you believe it? The King of Heaven chose me.”
Pity choked Danae’s heart. “Alea, I don’t blame you for wanting to turn what happened into something—”
Her sister reached forward and gripped Danae’s hands.
“This is why I didn’t tell you, I knew you would find it hard to believe, but you must trust me.
” She placed Danae’s hands on her stomach.
“I can feel the seed of Zeus inside me. And remember the day the villagers attacked us? An eagle came to save us. Don’t you see?
The King of Heaven was protecting his child.
” A thread of silver leaked from her gleaming eyes.
Danae pulled back, her stomach hollowing.
She had thought the chasm between them would close once she learned her sister’s secret.
But as she looked at Alea, the gulf grew wider than ever.
To be admired by a god was a high honor, but even if it was true, Danae could find no joy in her heart for what had been done to her sister.
And if Alea really was carrying Zeus’s child then she was in grave danger.
As infamous as her husband’s fondness for mortal beauty was his wife, Hera’s, vengeance upon those who inflamed his lust.
And there was always the chance that Alea had imagined it all, to protect herself from the terrible truth, that she had been abducted and raped by a shade.
“Let’s keep it between us for now,” Danae said quickly. “You were right not to speak of it, other people might not understand. Even Ma and Pa.”
For a moment she was worried her sister would disagree, but Alea’s face softened and she nodded.
“Our secret.”
The following night, Odell returned home with a bruised jaw and a swollen nose.
“What in Tartarus?” Eleni was immediately upon him, cloth in hand, dabbing at the blood crusted on his lip. “Who did this?”
He did not reply as he gently pushed her away and reached for the amphora of wine beside the hearth.
Danae shared a glance with Alea as her mother grasped his arm.
“Odell. Who struck you?”
Her father loosed a weary sigh and without meeting his wife’s eye muttered, “Calix.”
Danae stiffened.
“What?” Eleni breathed, her grip tightening on her husband’s arm.
“It was a disagreement about fishing territory—it’s nothing.” Odell made another feeble attempt to reach the wine.
“It is not nothing.” Eleni blocked his way, her cheeks flushed. “Our son struck you.”
Calix had not set foot in their hut since the news broke of Alea’s pregnancy. Santos at least had visited a handful of times, but Calix had severed all ties.
Danae glanced at Alea, and her stomach twisted at the tears blooming in her sister’s eyes.
Before the thought had fully taken form, she was on her feet, sprinting from the hut. The sound of her name being called was soon drowned out by the rasp of her breath as she ran along the path that led to the north of the village.
Dusk had spread its indigo wings over the sky by the time she arrived outside Calix’s hut. She hammered on the door.
Her brother opened it, his handsome face falling slack at the sight of Danae, dusty and sweating on his step.
“You shouldn’t be here—”
“How could you?” she spat. “Your own father.”
Hastily he stepped outside and shut the door behind him.
“You have no idea what it’s been like,” he hissed. “I’ve had to work damned hard to rid myself of Alea’s taint just to keep food on the table, and Carissa’s pregnant again.”
“Taint?”
He drew himself up. “Carissa has helped me see the truth. This is our parents’ fault.
Both of you should have been married off years ago, not left to roam the island like a pair of Maenads.
And Pa taking you fishing, teaching you to spar—it is unnatural, Danae.
Unnatural and wrong. It’s a wonder something like this didn’t happen sooner. ”
She couldn’t prevent the tears from spilling down her cheeks.
“You abandoned us, your own family.”
“The people inside this hut are my family.” Calix wrinkled his nose. “Go home.”
She tasted metal. She’d bitten down so hard on her lip she’d drawn blood.
Calix turned to step back inside.
The storm within her erupted. She kicked out at the back of his knee and brought him crashing to the ground.
Calix snarled and scrambled to his feet as she struck out again, this time with her fist, catching him in the stomach.
He staggered backward into his door, the breath wheezing from his lungs.
“Unnatural am I?” Danae aimed a blow at his jaw.
Gathering himself just in time, Calix dodged and tackled her around the waist, hurling them both to the ground.
The hut door swung open, and Carissa shrieked at the sight of her husband scrabbling in the dirt with Danae.
“I’m your sister, I’m your fucking sister,” she sobbed as she sank fist after fist into Calix’s ribs.
A hand grabbed her shoulder, and without looking she hurled her next blow upward. Carissa flew back, clutching her nose as blood dripped onto her dress.
Danae’s limbs sagged, horror spreading through her as Calix staggered to his pregnant wife.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...is she all right?”
Carissa moaned, and Calix turned to her with hatred in his gaze.
“You are not my sister.”
Eyes burning, Danae turned and ran.
When Danae was a child, she was sometimes gripped by fits of anger so violent she would fall to the ground and beat the earth until her rage seeped away like rainwater.
One day her father took her to a rocky outcrop above the village. An old tree stood amongst the jagged stones, its long dead branches twisting into the azure sky.
“Don’t tell your mother. This is where I taught the boys to fight.”
Danae scowled, her little fingers tracing the grooves in the peeling gray bark. Her father took her hands and bound them in strips of cloth.
“Now, hold your fists like this, see?” He curled her fingers into her palm. “Make sure your thumb’s on top, if you tuck it in you’ll break it.”
She looked up at him, at the creases that ran down his cheeks into his beard.
“Who will I fight?”
He smiled at her, his eyes warmer than the sun. “No one, Danie. I’m teaching you this so you don’t end up fighting yourself.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said and turned to the tree. “I would only fight bad men.” She chewed her lip, picturing them. “Pirates and bandits and thieves and enemy soldiers and...”
Her father laughed. He smacked the tree with his palm. “Let’s start with old Graybeard here. We can pretend he’s a pirate if you like.”
Danae nodded enthusiastically and narrowed her eyes, her imagination morphing the tree into a fearsome pirate.
“Now—” her father came to stand behind her “—hold your hands up like this. Keep your gait loose, shoulders relaxed. Aim for where you want to hit and land the blow with the flat of your fingers.”
After that, her father brought her to the tree every day. Soon she was training with her brothers, until they grew too tall and strong to spar with.
Since that first day, she never had another episode. Her mother thought it a miracle and was so relieved she’d never asked Odell where he took their daughter for an hour each day.
Now Danae stood before the tree once more. Her chest heaved and her hands ached from fighting with Calix. Her eyes were raw with salt, but her tears had dried. She looked at the rivets their little fists had left in the dead wood, like they had been potters molding clay.
Her father hadn’t had much skill to pass on, save how to throw a punch and not break her hand. But sparring with her brothers had been the only time she felt truly in control. They were a team, their own little army.
Now it was just her.
She flinched at the cry of a bird soaring overhead. For a moment she thought it was an eagle silhouetted against the sun-bleached clouds. Her pulse quickened, but as she shielded her eyes against the glare, she realized it was just a falcon.
She dropped her hand and as it swung by her side she sucked in a breath.
In one smooth motion she drew back her right fist and drove it into the silver bark.
She hit the trunk with such force a tiny crack appeared in the wood grain.
As she pulled away, blood trickled down the peeling bark.
Against the wine-dark fluid it looked like bone.
“Goodbye, Graybeard,” Danae whispered and turned away, dripping blood onto the soil as she walked.