CHAPTER SEVEN #2
‘What are we celebrating?’ I ask, looking to Theseus, who has that carefully aloof mask on that he often wears around the Athenians – like he must always be the hero from the tales to them.
Am I the only person he lets it slip for?
I take the cup and settle beside him, his arm falling across my shoulders.
‘We are officially closer to Athens than Crete,’ Zosime says, eyeing Theseus’s grip on me with a grim expression. I wonder if she had hoped for his attentions – or if, before I came, she had them.
‘So not really something for you to celebrate,’ one of the boys mutters into his cup.
Theseus snaps at him so quickly I tense. ‘I would expect my wife has more to celebrate than most.’
‘Wife?’ Zosime yelps, gaze shooting between us both.
‘In the eyes of the gods,’ Theseus answers.
I flush. If they did not already think we were sleeping together, they certainly will now. But then … if he is introducing me as his wife to those on his ship, is that not its own protection? I do not have to worry about him deciding not to marry me if he is already telling people we are wed.
I take a sip, savouring the rich, heady taste that coats my tongue. My muscles relax, and I lean against Theseus. I did it. I’m safe. Married to the prince of Athens, just like I once proposed.
The boy who’d complained rises to his feet. ‘Forgive me, my prince. But sharing wine with her is beyond the hospitality owed.’
‘I’m not my father,’ I say quietly. Theseus’s hold on me tightens. ‘You don’t have to fear me – and you don’t have to like me, either. I did not save your lives so that you would owe them to me.’
‘I saved those lives,’ Theseus corrects, just as calmly as ever but there’s bite beneath it. ‘And you certainly owe them to me. Go on, Ariadne, why don’t you tell them all why you assisted me? Show them they have nothing to fear.’
I swallow and even though it’s a pleasant night, the wind turns suddenly quite cold. This is a test, clear as any. I see the future unfurl before me, this tale told again and again at celebrations and banquets held beneath my own roof.
My mother once longed for such parties.
If I could live out my mother’s dreams on the shores of Athens, perhaps it would be worth becoming a lie.
‘I never thought anything of it,’ I say.
My words are quick, a hint of shame as I lower my gaze.
‘But when you arrived and I saw Theseus amongst you, I knew at once this was a man blessed by the gods, a man who carved righteousness with his blade, and I knew that he could not die.’ I look up at Theseus, finding his gaze intent upon me.
Framed by the night sky, there is no difference between the depths beyond and those spiralling within his eyes.
‘And if I am honest, I was struck by Eros himself, a sudden sharp pluck of the arrow and it was clear. I was so very stupid not to see it before. And I knew my beloved Theseus would defeat the beast; I only had to open the door. Perhaps offer string to guide you out. Tools – for the hero in our midst.’
I see the boys soften around me. They might still hate me as an extension of my father and the cruelty that brought them here – but why waste hatred on a foolish, idiotic girl whose love had been their only saving grace?
‘We made a good team,’ Theseus offers.
I shake my head. ‘It was all you. And perhaps the hand of the gods in delivering me to you.’
Theseus smiles and the hatred dims. No conniving, fiendish woman, not the girl who demanded we hide the body of the guard – no, forget all that – just a foppish vessel for the will of the gods.
Theseus kisses me – right there in front of everyone. It feels like a claiming – like protection. Asserting that he has absolved me of the sins of my father and that anyone who steps against me sets themselves in opposition to him too.
‘Great, can we drink now?’ Zosime interrupts, and is met by a few chuckles.
We reluctantly part and Theseus lowers his mouth to my ear, his breath hot against me as he says: ‘That was very nicely done, my love.’
My love.
I can hear my own pulse, thundering in my ears. My love my love my love. And the wine is sweeter on my tongue as I taste its echo on his.
No one cares all that much about me after that. We drink, music plays on – I itch to dance but, wary of making more of a spectacle of myself, I can only tap my fingers against the boards of the boat.
But as the night wears on and wine turns conversation absurd, I find my head nodding and my body swaying.
Theseus laughs. ‘Do you play?’
I still have Phaedra’s aulos – tucked in my pocket to sound an alert it never needed to.
‘Oh gods, no, I can’t carry a tune. I can dance, though.’
‘Oh?’ he asks, then a small smile unfurls. ‘Do show me.’
I bite my lip – wondering if this is a test too. ‘My father says dances are for serving girls, not royalty.’
He shakes his head softly. ‘Your father has never said anything worth noting.’
My pulse skitters again – warmth uncurling in my gut. It takes me a moment to recognize it as happiness. ‘I suppose the ocean does not care who skims upon its waves,’ I say, relenting.
‘It might,’ Theseus answers quietly. ‘If it saw you moving in the moonlight.’
He reaches out a hand to haul me to my feet.
Theseus spins me around the boat. Oh, it’s such sweet relief to dance – and to music? That was a luxury rarely won in my father’s house, where music was played quietly and my steps landed to a beat in my own head, or else the sound of scurrying maids and chirping birds.
And my brother’s echoing steps.
Theseus lifts me until my feet hover above his own.
My chest presses against his, all those hard planes of him, and I feel a sudden keen ache for him, one that burns as he smiles at me.
Gods, I do not merely want him, I want him viciously.
I want to sink my teeth into the flesh of his neck, want to rake my nails down his back and curl my fingers into his hair.
He grins down at me. ‘Oh, we’ll certainly have to host celebrations in Athens. The world needs to see you dance.’ He speaks into my ear, and then, as though he feels similarly, he catches my lobe beneath his teeth.
Then the sky cracks open.
It is a sudden torrent – the sort that marks the close of summer – and a sheet so thick that at first I think a wave has soared over the planks of the ship. Suddenly there are shouts, drunken men stumbling.
Theseus calls on his father but nothing helps, not as the boat shudders beneath us.
‘We need to make for land,’ a man yells. Lightning strikes a mast above. A beam breaks, the sail flapping in the wind, and out of some sort of instinct I snatch at it, catching the rope which hauls me into the air, my shoulder screaming in protest, and quick hands at my ankles pull me back.
‘I swear, Ariadne,’ Zosime growls as she yanks me down. ‘Why do you court trouble?’
Together we rush for the edge of the boat and I am too focused on tying the rope down to answer. My hands are clumsy at the knots, the rope unlike the fine thread I have been taught to weave. Zosime is not much better and suddenly Theseus is reaching around me, his hands over mine.
Zosime runs to stamp out a fallen lantern whose flames lick towards another rope, even despite the deluge.
I turn, finding Theseus drenched before me.
‘Hold the rope tight,’ he directs, so I spin back so that he is arched over me.
I hold it still as he ties it. The boat trembles beneath us, tipping nearly fully on the sudden waves, and we stagger from rope to rope, clinging on and securing them, and clearly someone has directed us to land because all at once the ship shudders into the banks.
Lightning strikes the mast once more.
‘Shelter inland!’ Theseus calls. ‘Stay clear of the trees!’
He sweeps me into his arms before I can step on to the gangplank and I clutch his broad shoulders as he hurtles down and on to the beach.
The hard muscles of his chest rise and fall against me as he runs.
He lowers me down, draping his himation over me as we scurry.
I spy rocks clustered at the shore and pull him towards them, certain some sort of sanctuary must lie within.
They are so slippery we have to hold one another still as we climb – the jagged edges lethal in the dark.
But we can see a wide lip where the cliff forms a natural shelter, and then, as though the gods truly are guiding us, an opening at its mouth.
We fall into the cave hastily, Theseus practically pulling me across the threshold like he cannot risk me lingering in the rain another moment.
I’m disoriented – the suddenness of the disaster. The revelry turned to ruin. There’s only Theseus, his arms around me through it all. And around me now as he draws me closer, his lips crashing against mine.
‘You’re freezing,’ I whisper, pushing his damp locks from his face.
‘Well, wife, we’ll have to find a way to fix that.’ I can see him smiling in the dark. The rain is stilling – stars peeking through clouds. Moonlight to see him by.
There is only this: the want, coiled and hot in my gut, the only fire within reach. And Theseus, guiding my hands, drawing me through the dark. The feeling that he is the only thing left worth clinging to.
So I fumble with the cords of his chiton, ready to hold him fast and perhaps never let go.