Chapter 34
from his spot on a makeshift bed created from tattered cloth and damp straw.
Apollo bares his teeth in response, hands steady over the wound while his palms pour golden light. “Your pain tolerance is worse than a mortal child’s. Now stay still.”
Dionysus’ brows furrow. He opens his mouth, ready to argue with his brother, no doubt.
I shift on the balls of my feet, careful not to lean back on the tent wall lest it topple the entire structure. “Stop fighting and let him work.”
He narrows his eyes, trying to mask how they twinkle with mirth. “You’ve gotten so bossy.” He turns to Apollo. “Remember when she was the meekest member of the cleaning servants?”
“I don’t stalk future attendants like you do, brother,” Apollo grumbles.
“You noticed me back then?” I can’t help but ask.
The sparkle of humor returns to his rich brown eyes. “Of course! You had a spark of bravery in you, even then. You always worked alone despite hungry gods prowling the halls.”
I shudder at the reminder. If I hadn’t had the knowledge of what the likes of Zeus and Poseidon were capable of, who knows what could’ve happened.
The mirth in Dionysus’ expression flickers out. He turns his head back, staring at the tent ceiling rippling beneath an influx of freezing winter rain.
By the time the tall candle next to the bed flickers down a notch, Apollo’s done all he can for the day, having burned out any infection and forced the skin back together. It’ll hold until the afternoon, if we’re lucky, and midday if not. Apollo’s abilities can only do so much with Zeus’ lightning strikes.
Soon, we’ll start packing the tents, supplies, and various people for the day. Or dawn, I suppose, since we spend each night sleeping in tents and each day traveling by foot across the realm. Two weeks of this—sleeping, keeping watch, packing, walking—buries weariness past my muscles and down to my bones.
With every town we skirt around, careful to avoid being seen, another cluster of mortals leaves our group. Good for supplies but not so good for morale; the satyrs and nymphs are fast friends with many, and the gods slowly warm to the diverse company. Every group who leaves us burrows the exhaustion deeper into everyone else.
The one glimmer of light is knowing Dionysus and Thanatos will stay until the last moment outside Pykos Forest.
Thanks to Hera’s detailed plans shared among her court, we know the way to the Moirai lair—or the Moirai Tower, as Hera called it. Head south, then curve east just past the town of Medos. Then cross a wide river bridge, the town of Lemea in the distance, and head into the densely forested Pykos Forest.
On scraps of stolen paper, the plan seems simple. But I expect something, a trick or a twist or a diversion. There’s no way powerful beings like the Moirai are so simple to reach.
“Chloe?” someone says, not for the first time. A nymph, tall with lush curves, looking nervous while holding a small portion of food.
I shake my head. “Let someone else have it.”
She bites her lip, expression unsure.
“Don’t fret, I’ll have a good dinner.”
She nods, then goes, leaving me alone with Dionysus and my thoughts.
“You need to eat,” Dionysus says.
“I won’t die from a bit of starvation. The mortal people will.”
“I wouldn’t call refusing all meals a bit of starvation. Eat dinner or I’ll tell Thanatos.”
I grit my teeth. “He won’t tell me what to do.”
“No, he won’t, but he’ll pout. Can you imagine? The god of death, pouting.”
I smile at the idea. It is a rather cute image, though something I’m not sure I want to see outside of my head. “Fine, I’ll eat dinner tonight.”
Standing from my slouch, I head toward the tent flap, glad we steal a handful of the structures from each town we pass. There’s enough for everyone to huddle beneath now that we’ve curved around Medos, the third town along our path.
“Come back.”
I turn, raising an eyebrow.
He beckons with a flop of his hand. “Let’s talk! We haven’t had a chance to in a while.”
Grinning, I shuffle back, kneeling at his bedside. “Not since our last journey.”
He nods. “Right, when we fled the palace.”
“Thanks for that.” I smile, then bite my bottom lip until it stings.
With an eye roll and a wave of his hand, he responds. “Well, go on. Ruin our perfectly casual conversation with an important question.”
“How did you know?”
“I know everything.” At my laugh, he narrows his eyes. “Everything! Like how you and Thanatos shared a bed—“
My face flames. I blurt my question before he brings up anything else he got through his gossip network. “Why did you leave? The palace, I mean.”
The question has weighed in my mind for weeks, since the beginning of our trek away from the palace. I never asked him back then, certain he would explain eventually, but there’s been no time since. Not until now, with dawn approaching and our camp ready to pack with its first light.
His face goes slack, then pinched.
“You don’t have to answer. I know things between you and Zeus are…” I shrug, uncomfortable in a way that has nothing to do with my position kneeling on dirt. “Difficult.”
He sighs. “It’s all right. It’s not every day a god betrays his father by breaking a creature out of prison. Zeus would never understand, but you might.”
I tilt my head, forcing myself still and quiet.
“For a long time,” he starts, then cuts himself off by huffing a breath. “For centuries, I knew Zeus wasn’t a good king. The Titan War awoke something dark in him, something cruel. And at first, the court thought he’d improve, given time.”
He shrugs. “Time passed. He only grew worse—killing creatures, siring children on unwilling women, allowing Poseidon free rein over the coastal towns. Still, a few of us hoped he would change his ways, eventually.”
He grins, wry. “He didn’t. When the siren, Agathe, bargained with him for her family’s freedom and won, something snapped in many of us. We saw first-hand how things could change for the better not only in the court, but across the realm, when the sirens flew free. But we saw how Zeus would try to thwart change at every turn, too.”
“But why leave? Surely you could do much from within Athansi and the palace.”
“Sure, but I’d have been a coward to stay. I searched and searched for change in Zeus, in the court, and in the realm for so long. Until you, I never thought I’d do anything but wait and observe.”
“And then?”
His grin turns warm and real. “And then I met a creature with snakes for hair. Then I realized something important. Monsters aren’t unique forms or frightening features—monsters are people who see cruelty and look the other way.”
Eyes damp, I offer a trembling smile. For the first time, something in me believes I’m not a monster, not in the way that counts. “Thank you.”
He sniffs, lifting his nose haughtily to hide the tears in his eyes. “I’m only stating the truth.”
We go quiet, the only noise a hushed patter of rain on the tent stretched above, but it’s the comfortable sort. My heart slows to a rhythm steady and slow like a lullaby. Muscles go lax. Each blink becomes heavier.
Dionysus clears his throat.
I snap to attention, stifling a yawn, and rub my bleary eyes. “What is it?”
“It’s my turn to ask you a question,” he says. His jaw creaks in a wide yawn.
Leaning my head down onto his sleeping mat, then resting my folded arms there too, I bask in the steady heat he gives off. “Go on.”
“Is this truly what you want to do?” At my questioning grunt, he continues. “Leading us across the realm, bargaining with the Moirai—all of this.” With a wide sweep, he gestures to the tent and the shabby camp surrounding it, then winces when the movement tugs at his wound. “We might find someone else.”
“Might isn’t good enough and you know it.”
“You didn’t actually answer my question.”
I sigh, rubbing at my eyes, more out of frustration than anything. Whatever sleepiness cloaked me moments ago has vanished beneath the weight of his question. “I’m not sure.”
He opens his mouth, no doubt to insist he’ll find someone else for the task, as if people willing to bargain with the fates themselves are throwing themselves at his feet.
I glare until his mouth snaps closed. “I don’t know that monsters are meant to help anyone, let alone the entire realm. But I’m willing to try, even if it means proving myself a hero in my own way.”
“And if they decide to kill you?”
I grin, all teeth. “They can try. Besides, I’m friends with the god of death.”
“Friends?” He lifts an eyebrow. “Is that what people are calling it these days?”
Fighting a blush and failing, I swipe at his shoulder. Laughing, he leans away.
A cleared throat from behind me and the moment shatters. A nymph, come to tell us the camp will soon pack and depart the area. Dionysus plays off the news with a serene smile, yet can’t hide how his muscles tense, readying for the pain of his wound being jostled and torn open once again.
We see the bridge in the distance this day, and trudge over it the next. There’re no guards, no Zeus, and the tension in our group ratchets up another notch. The satyrs take to fighting amongst themselves. The mortals look behind us, at Medos in the far distance, likely wishing they’d opted to leave days ago.
Any other time, I’d stop to admire the elegant curve of the bridge over the wide river. Despite the dirt and grime stamped into the gray marble, it gleams softly in the waning sunlight. The railings, smooth and warm beneath my hand, start as one massive trunk of wood, then branch and whirl into nonsensical shapes.
Light glints off the water, shining into our eyes. While near everyone else curses, I smile, imagining paint beneath my nails and a fresh canvas before me.
Thanatos, walking to my side, nudges me with an elbow. “It’d make a lovely painting.”
I hum. “Or an embroidery scene.”
He sidles closer, brushing my hand with his, then grips it tight. The calluses on his palm catch on mine.
From behind us, Dionysus whistles. “I told you they’re together, Apollo!”
At the head of carrying Dionysus’ makeshift bed, Apollo grumbles but slides a silver coin onto the blankets.
Hephaestus, carrying the other end, sighs. “You know better than to bet with him.”
“They bet on us?” I ask, baffled.
Thanatos’ brows furrow low over his flashing eyes. “Yes, a bet Dionysus cheated on. He knew we were together beforehand.”
With a glare, Apollo snatches his coin back.
Dionysus simply smirks, unashamed, then joins the satyrs in their raucous laughter.
Thick trees sprout from each side of the road, curving overhead into a dense canopy to block out the midday sun. Orange-brown leaves, dead and withered to nearly nothing, cling to the otherwise bare branches. The branches weave together, forming chaotic patterns so tightly bound I can’t glimpse the blue sky.
A single leaf flutters down, landing at my feet. I step on it, curious, and it crunches to dust.
With a shiver, I pull my cloak tighter, hoping to be free of the canopy soon. Then I remember I won’t be; I’ll trek in between those trees within the hour, when the town of Lemea is in sight. According to Hera’s description, recounted through Aphrodite, the town sits on the other end of this road. The group will have to travel through a mostly flat field, then they’ll be in the town proper.
I’ll be gone before that, vanished into the forest before night settles darkness across the realm. Apollo assures me the moon will be full tonight, a blessing if the moonlight penetrates the dense forest.
The hours pass both too soon and too slow. It doesn’t make any sort of sense, not even in my head, yet the time rushes by in some spots and slows to a crawl in others. Too soon, the road leads into the field. I glance at the sky revealed once again, then glance north. A strangely perfect curve of trees line the northernmost side of the field, reachable on foot if I leave now.
Apollo and Hephaestus shuffle past, worn and stooped from carrying Dionysus between them. Hephaestus limps, gritting his teeth as his underdeveloped foot unbalances his already painful steps. Dionysus takes one look at me and opens his arms, calling for the other men to halt.
I bury myself in his embrace, drawing in the scent of heady wine forever clinging to his clothes.
His waves of hair, grown unruly during our travel, scratch against my cheeks. “Goodbye for now, gorgon born.”
I inhale, fighting off a sob. “Goodbye for now, old pervert.”
He squawks, slapping my shoulder. I pull back, grinning through tears, and motion for Apollo and Hephaestus to carry him onward. Sometimes the best goodbye is only a fleeting moment in time, gone between one blink and the next.
Still, he stretches his neck, looking back until the distance is too great and the group becomes dots of color among the dead-grass field.
Thanatos waits, still and silent at my side, radiating heat I’m tempted to lean into.
When he says nothing, no goodbye or final offering of advice, I clear my throat. “Go on, before the group gets too far ahead.”
He throws an arm around my shoulder, pulling me firmly into his side. “You thought we’d get here, and I’d what? Leave?”
Biting my lip, I scan the dirt road beneath my feet. “I would understand if you did. Trying to bargain with the Moirai could mean death, even for us immortals.”
He kisses the top of my head, lingering with his face pressed to my hair. “I said I’d rather die than leave you again. Well, I figure this way I can try both at the same time.”
Atia slithers free from my hair, Stam close behind, and they press into his cheeks. He chuckles. “Don’t worry, little ones, I’m not actually trying to die.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I snark back, sensing Stam’s disbelief without looking.
She slithers to rest on my shoulder, tongue flicking to scent the frigid winter air. Whatever she finds must please her, for she crowds close to my neck, skin-warm and oddly affectionate.
Thanatos inhales once, then stands from slouching over me. “We should get moving. We’ll need all the sunlight we can get.”