Chapter 33 #2
She emerged from the cabin, the wine in one hand, a tarpaulin needle and twine in the other. Telamon turned almost as pale as his brother when he saw what she was carrying.
“You’re not going to...with that?”
Danae didn’t have time to answer as she rushed back to the benches. Taking Jason’s place, she helped Peleus raise his head and held the wine to his lips.
“Drink this, you’ll need it.”
Peleus spied the needle in her other hand and took a large gulp. Danae took back the wineskin and splashed the remaining liquid on his wounds and over the needle. From across the deck, Atalanta moaned. It could have been sympathy for Peleus, but it was probably prompted by the wasted wine.
“This is going to hurt.”
Danae bit down on her bottom lip. The pain helped steady her hand as she separated the strands of twine and threaded the needle. Taking a deep breath, she pressed the sides of the first gash together and sank the needle into Peleus’s skin.
It wasn’t so bad if she imagined she was stitching a fig and the blood was just juice. There was so much juice. She fought down a wave of nausea as an image of Myron, the butcher, elbow deep in the carcass of a cow, invaded her thoughts.
Please work, she thought with each plunge of the needle.
Peleus’s screams ripped through the benches every time she broke his skin.
By the time the wounds were stitched, the poor man’s voice had reduced to a whimper.
Danae sank back on her heels and looked down at her trembling, bloodstained hands.
How she’d held them steady, she did not know.
As the men moved Peleus behind the benches and made him comfortable in a bed of furs, she pushed herself up and walked over to Telamon.
“He’s stopped bleeding.” She sank down next to him. “I think he’s out of danger for now.”
Telamon nodded, then held her bloody hands in his. “Thank you.”
She drew them away, mumbling, “It’s the least I could do.”
When night came, and the crew lay down between their benches, Danae remained beside Telamon and Atalanta.
Telamon’s head lolled on his chest, gently bobbing as he snored. In her sleep, Atalanta had slid sideways against the stern platform, her bound hands resting on the deck, fingers nestled against Danae’s thigh.
The moon was half swallowed by darkness, but it cast just enough light to see by.
Danae gazed at Atalanta’s face. She would never dare look this long when the warrior was awake.
Her features were surprisingly soft without her permanent scowl.
She seemed younger than Danae had first thought, perhaps around her twenty-fifth year, like Santos.
Her mouth was slightly parted, breath whistling gently between her full lips.
She was beautiful, in her own fierce way.
She was a woman who could take on a god.
Danae wondered if the night she’d comforted Atalanta had really happened. It felt like a dream. A moment stolen from a world ruled by different stars.
The warrior’s eyes snapped open. Danae flinched.
“How long have you been staring at me?”
“I wasn’t—”
“Yes, you were.” Atalanta heaved herself up and began rooting around for the wineskin. She winced.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Show me.”
Atalanta clenched her teeth. Grimacing, she lifted her arms revealing the tip of a gouge below her right armpit. Mercifully, it didn’t look like it needed stitches.
“It’s just a scratch. One of those bastard Earthborn got me when I was trying to hold on to Hylas.”
Danae’s heart suddenly felt too heavy for her chest.
“Why will none of you admit to being wounded?” she said sharply and reached to undo the straps of Atalanta’s breastplate.
The warrior jerked away from her.
“I can’t get a good look without removing it.”
“I never take off my armor.”
“You did on Lemnos.” She regretted the words as soon as they’d left her lips.
A beat fell between them.
“I’m sorry. It must have been difficult, being back with a group of hunters and then—”
“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” Atalanta’s eyes grew hard as frosted iron.
“You think the men respect you? The only reason you’re here is because of them—” she glanced to the heavens “—but the gods won’t protect you, Seer, no matter how special you think you are to them.
” She gestured to the rowing benches. “I am faster, stronger, tougher than all those pricks, but I have to prove my worth every fucking day. You want to know why I don’t take off my armor?
” She thumped her chest. “This was beaten from the breastplate of the man who murdered my people. Because he was faster, stronger, tougher...” She paused, her breath ragged.
When she spoke again her words bit like a silent blade. “Don’t ever touch my armor again.”
Danae swallowed, her mouth dry. “If I don’t clean the wound, it will become infected. If it’s all right with you, I’d rather you didn’t die.”
The two women stared at each other. Atalanta’s dark eyes burned with an intensity that made Danae’s stomach writhe, but she did not look away.
“Fine. But the armor stays on.”
“Yes, you made that clear.”
Atalanta’s mouth twitched. Danae located the wineskin and, armed with a cloth retrieved silently from the store cabin, she eased herself back down beside the warrior and began to dab the gouge.
Atalanta stiffened, but she didn’t make a sound, even as Danae pressed against her sore flesh to reach the tip of the wound beneath the armor.
“I’m sorry about your people.”
Atalanta grunted.
“They were hunters too, weren’t they?”
“Who told you?”
“Hylas.”
Atalanta was silent.
“I do not love the gods.” Danae didn’t know how the grain of truth had escaped, but there it was.
“I channel their will, when they wish me to receive it, but I know that I am just a tool to them, nothing but a disposable mortal.” She didn’t try to hide the venom that seeped into her words, hating the half lie she had to weave.
Atalanta gently moved her hand away.
“Has Artemis ever spoken to you?”
“No.”
Atalanta’s frown deepened. “She used to hunt with my people.”
Danae’s heart tripped. “You’ve met her?”
“Yes,” Atalanta said with a quietness that betrayed her fear.
“We were her mortals, just like the hunters of Lemnos. She promised no one would touch us, that we were under her protection. Then raiders came to our forest. We prayed to her to save us, but she did not come. When she did finally return she found all but three of us dead...” Atalanta paused, her mind flying somewhere far away.
“After what they did to us, she didn’t think we were worth saving. ”
The anger that lived beneath Danae’s skin singed her blood. She wanted to reach for the warrior, but she knew Atalanta would detest her pity.
“How did you escape?”
“Heracles.”
Atalanta’s eyes lifted, and Danae was no longer afraid to hold her gaze.
“Why did you hate me when we first met?”
The moon emerged from behind a cloud. In its radiance, Atalanta’s eyes were all ebony and silver light.
“I didn’t hate you. I just didn’t trust you.”
“But you do now?”
She could barely breathe as she waited for an answer.
“Trust has to be earned. You saved Heracles back on the island. That was a start.”
Danae’s heart lifted. “I want you to trust me.”
Perhaps it was the moonlight, but she thought she saw the ghost of a smile touch the warrior’s lips. Her eyes lingered there.
Then Telamon let out a rumbling snore.
Atalanta laughed and grabbed the wineskin from Danae, draining the remaining liquid.
“I’ll tell you how to earn my trust.”
“Go on.”
Atalanta leaned closer. Danae could feel the heat of her, smell the oak and honeysuckle on her skin. Then the warrior whispered, “Bring me more wine.”
Danae cricked her neck, her body still stiff from sleep. The light of dawn cast luminous ripples over the inky waves.
“Daeira.”
At his summons, she joined Jason on the prow deck.
“Captain.”
He glanced back at Telamon and Atalanta, still bound to the stern deck. “I know you traveled with them before the Argo. But I am your captain, and they disobeyed my orders on the Doliones’ shore.”
Reaching Prometheus was all that mattered, and Jason was currently in charge of the ship that would get her there. Her stomach writhed, but she knew what she must do.
“I am loyal to you, Captain. I have come to believe the fates put me in their path to lead me to you.”
Jason’s mouth twitched. “Good. Then we understand each other.”
She inclined her head and turned to walk back down to the mid-deck, but Jason caught her arm. He pulled her close, his grip firm.
“What did you see, before we landed on the Doliones’ shore?”
She looked into his eyes, expecting to see accusation, but instead she found hunger.
“Sometimes, the omens do not offer a clear path. One sign may be favorable for some and not for others. Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good.”
His hand stayed on her arm.
“The Queen of Heaven herself has blessed this quest.” Jason spoke so softly his voice was almost a whisper.
“I know the omens are on my side. At first, I thought losing men was a failure on my part, but now I see that this is exactly how it was meant to be. We are treading the path the Twelve have mapped out for us. You interpret the will of the gods, and I have their blessing. Stay loyal to me, and I will make you my royal seer when I return to Iolcos and claim my crown.”
She felt nauseated, but she made herself smile. “It would be the honor of my life to serve at your side.”
Jason smiled at her, showing all his perfect white teeth. “We must reach Colchis, whatever it takes.”
“Whatever it takes,” she replied.