CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR #2
It seems to take great effort, but he swallows back biting words and saws into the meat on his plate.
‘A winning man does not crawl back. I was betrayed. He was saved. You are an embarrassment to both our houses and one we now seek to rectify.’ His gaze wanders to Phaedra, then cuts right back to me.
‘And there are a number of ways that might happen.’
Theseus’s eye twitches but he forces himself to nod. ‘I quite agree.’
‘Oh,’ I say quickly, jumping on a chance to change tack.
Theseus begins absent-mindedly munching on a stalk of asparagus like a donkey with a spear of wheat, and I plough on.
‘I was so very sorry to hear of your father’s death.
It must be so difficult to take up the throne of the greatest empire in the Aegean while grieving. ’
‘Crete,’ my father snarls, ‘is the greatest empire in the Aegean.’
‘Of course,’ I say quickly. ‘I’m sorry, that’s not what I –’
‘Do you see any other woman here talking, Ariadne?’ Deucalion demands from the other end of the table. My mother flinches. ‘I do not care to hear another word from you unless it is to grovel for our forgiveness.’
It is my father’s words echoing in Deucalion’s.
And then, across the table, Glaucus bashes his knife into his cup. ‘Quiet, Ariadne!’ he declares.
Something within me cracks. I never stood a chance with Deucalion, already grown before I was born.
But I have sung Glaucus to sleep, kissed his skimmed knees and soothed his tears with the same stories of witches I once clung to. My one glimmer of hope for the future of Crete was the line of succession leading to a boy who knew women belonged in legends too.
I don’t understand how this is a world where men will leave girls on islands for the sake of a story, where gods can lose their powers if someone else seizes their tale and where one whisper of a girl can ruin her – but where years of heartfelt fables can be so readily replaced by animosity.
Where a story can mean so much, but also so little.
Theseus raises his cup. ‘What an excellent reminder of what we are here for. Princess Phaedra is a truly becoming young woman. I am honoured to make her my queen.’
Dionysus leans in. ‘Yes, and how delightful to settle the matter with a marriage rather than with blades. It truly signals to the world that you are a man of peace, King Minos.’
His tone is upbeat and jovial, but my father grows further incensed. Peace to him is an insult. It means forgiving slights. Not punishing your enemies. Letting those who wrong you do it again and again.
It is the last sort of word he would wish to be associated with.
‘What dowry are you providing for Phaedra?’ I ask, and then, even though I know it is too far – that it bends the limits of my father’s hospitality – I add: ‘I assume such peace is worth any payment.’
There it is – Phaedra and the money accompanying her – not a mere marriage, but a settlement. A defeat.
‘That is none of your business,’ my father growls. His knuckles pale as he clutches the arms of his chair. But it’s not me he’s glaring at – it’s Theseus.
‘Ariadne,’ Deucalion warns. ‘One more –’
‘Of course,’ I say, ducking my head as though bashful.
‘I’m so sorry, I’m just very excited. My beloved sister and the hero of Greece?
Think of the stories they will tell. Oh, they’ll have children so powerful they could sit upon both thrones – if you do not have children of your own, dear brother. ’
Deucalion’s eyes flick, quick and cold, between them – realizing what should have been apparent immediately: that the throne he is so anxiously awaiting might never be his.
That this union could swallow Crete whole.
My father whisks Deucalion off almost immediately, their plates still half full. Theseus sulks off after.
‘Ariadne, a word, please,’ Phaedra barks, stopping only to glower at Dionysus.
He holds his hands up in mock surrender. ‘I’ll leave you be. Perhaps I might take Prince Glaucus to his rooms?’
Glaucus looks at him with all the distrust a ten-year-old can muster, but then an idea hits him. ‘Can you show me how to magic up shiny rocks?’
‘Afraid not,’ Dionysus says. ‘But I can show you how to magic up snacks.’
He reaches for my brother and plucks a honeyed nut from behind his ear.
Glaucus gasps.
My mother’s hand falls to my brother’s shoulder, and I anticipate her polite refusal, her determination not to let Glaucus leave her sight, but instead she smiles. ‘That would be splendid. Please do take him up, he can show you the way.’
Glaucus takes Dionysus’s hand and he leads him out, pausing only to give me the slightest nod. A sort of encouragement.
My mother rushes to clasp me in her arms the moment they’re all gone. She feels so frail – stooping in on herself and thinner than I remember. I count the grey in her hair and wonder how many strands of it I’ve added.
‘What are you doing here?’ my sister demands.
‘Phaedra,’ Mother says, letting go of me to face my sister. ‘Be –’
‘What? Nice? Polite? Like Ariadne was just now?’ She narrows her eyes at me. ‘Berating poor Theseus like that. Why? Because he chose me instead of you?’
I blink at my sister, but I’m too … messy after that dinner. All the jabs and clever, smug little interjections colliding with the prickling, unsettling feeling Theseus’s gaze drilled into my skin.
‘He did choose me, Phaedra,’ I say, trying to be as stern and calm as I possibly can.
Any emotional reaction will only prove her point that my hurt is what drove me here – which is not exactly wrong, but it doesn’t cancel out the love that pulled me here too.
‘He promised me we’d wed once we reached Athens.
He swore it on the River Styx – then abandoned me on an island so that we’d never make it to the city.
I’m not jealous he’s marrying you – I’m scared he’ll betray you like he did me. ’
‘He says there was a vision,’ Mother tries.
‘And you believe him?’
‘No, of course not.’ She reaches for my arm – like she must constantly reassure herself I’m here. ‘But Theseus has declared it before our entire court – and the members of his own retinue too. He couldn’t harm Phaedra; she has the protection you never had of this all being highly public.’
Phaedra makes a small self-satisfied hum and turns to me with her arms crossed, almost expectant of whatever it is I’ll say next to try to ruin this for her.
I doubt I’m trying to save you, you little brat will go over well.
‘Of course he can harm Phaedra. Men harm their wives all the time.’
‘He is not like that,’ Phaedra protests.
I glare at her, thinking of those long nights alone on the ship.
I have no doubt that’s what he’d do to her in Athens: keep her from the rest of the court, make her see the Athenians as enemies to be shielded against, isolated and alone with only him to turn to.
It’s what he wants – a wife wholly loyal to him.
And I’d already proved beyond doubt that my loyalty is fickle.
I take a breath, casting my gaze around like those guards might be spying again. Voice low, I look at my mother and sister and admit: ‘We had sex. The night he abandoned me.’
‘Did he force you?’ my mother asks, horrified, stepping forward again as Phaedra gawps. My mother raises a hand to the scratches Hera carved across my face – as though it might have been him, etched so deeply they’d linger even now.
‘No,’ I say quickly. ‘He just …’
Lied? Manipulated me? Made me think the person I was consenting to was someone else entirely and, if that was the case, if I didn’t really know what I was agreeing to, was I really agreeing at all?
But I can’t unpack all that right now, not without breaking down. I’ll bleed across the palace floor – and my family savour blood.
‘Well, there you go,’ Phaedra says curtly. ‘Of course he wasn’t going to marry you after that. He could hardly take a wife who didn’t have her virginity intact. You should have known better.’
‘Phaedra,’ Mother snaps, turning to her sharply. ‘Your sister is clearly upset.’
‘Well, cry about it, then. Preferably far from here. I didn’t make these rules – I just know how to follow them.
It’s not like the repercussions of disobeying are hidden from us.
You knew full well what would happen.’ Phaedra sniffs, barely deigning to look at me.
‘You were awfully lucky to find Dionysus. If Theseus tells him what you did, you’ll place your marriage in jeopardy, so you might want to run as far from here as possible. ’
It’s exactly what I expected – the judgement I knew would come my way if the world knew, levelled at me in my sister’s voice, and I know it’s nonsense, but suddenly my own words are sticking anyway.
‘Is that it?’ I ask, voice wavering. ‘Those rules you’re clinging to say that a man is going to hurt someone.
So make sure it’s not you. Be purer than the last girl, better than the last girl, more obedient than the last girl so he hurts her instead.
But why aren’t we asking why the men are hurting any of us at all?
They want our division precisely so they can get away with this. ’
Her nostrils flare. ‘Unmake the world? That’s your solution? Grow up, Ariadne.’