I WAKE UP expecting to see the browns and ochres of the Eastern Osterian landscape, but am instead greeted by lush, green fir trees and a body of water that, if I didn’t know better, I would swear is the far edge of the harbor of Athenos. I shift to sit up, gritting in readiness for the pain, but there is none. I roll my shoulders and both feel as strong and intact as they did before I entered the maze. I shift my tunic aside, feeling a surge of pride when I see the bull charm of Minoa along with my other two vigile charms from Helena and Athenos. With the tunic aside, I peel away the bandages. The wounds from the minotaur’s teeth have completely healed.
A chill shivers up my spine as a cool breeze brings the resinous scent of conifers. Odysseus stirs beside me. Although the sky is still pale with dawn, people are out walking their dogs and starting their day. Some skirt around us warily, while others stare down at our little camp with judgmental glances as they stride by. When they speak to one another it’s with the lilting accent of my father’s people. I glance around with an odd feeling that something is missing.
"Didn’t we fall asleep in a desert?" Odysseus asks, brushing a hand over his dark, cropped hair.
"I think we’re in Athenos. How did we get here?"
Odysseus gives me a world-weary look. "The gods. Apparently they want us here, not there."
"They just moved us?" I ask incredulously, suddenly feeling nauseous at the thought of being so much under the power of the Twelve, of having no free will to—
My train of thought halts as a stab of loneliness hits me like a tidal wave. Not just loneliness, but a feeling of missing a part of myself. "Wasn’t there someone with us?"
"Sure, Iolalus. Maybe that’s it," he says with a yawn as he stretches. "Maybe Hera needed him back in Portaceae and we got a free ride out of the deal. Can’t say I’m complaining about missing out on spending several days on horseback to get here."
"No, no," I say, shaking my head, trying to jostle out a memory of something that seems like a dream. "A woman. Wasn’t there a woman with us?"
"There was Ariadne." Odysseus pauses a moment, when he speaks again his voice carries more than a hint of doubt at his own words. "But she stayed in Minoa."
"I could have sworn we—" I trail off, feeling an ache in my groin.
"Must have been some dream. Come on, hero," he says, standing up and arching his back. "Let’s go say hello to your father."
After stabling our horses and purchasing a hunk of jam-smeared bread to break our fast, we follow along the harbor’s walkway that leads to the palace, or rather the villa as I remember I’m supposed to call it to avoid offending the sensibilities of the Athenians. I expect to see Kyros doing his duty as guard and butler, but blocking the door are a pair of new guards I don’t recognize, big men who remind me of two surly bears standing watch over their den.
"I’m here to see my father," I say, not daring to simply stride in past these two.
"Father? And who are you?"
Are they idiots? My father only has one son.
"I’m Theseus. Look, where is Kyros? He can tell you who I am."
The guard on the left ignores me and indicates with a jerk of his head to his companion to go inside. When his companion leaves, he points a spear at us, gesturing us to step into the foyer.
"Don’t move," he grunts and gives a little thrust with the spear like a punctuation mark at the end of his command.
"Did the gods roll us in satyr shit before they moved us?" Odysseus asks, giving his armpits a mock sniff. I’m in no mood to joke with him.
As we wait, I wonder at the feeling of loss in me. I should feel triumphant. I should feel like shouting to the rooftops. I’m the conqueror of the minotaur. But I’m empty inside and I don’t know what has been taken away.
Finally, I can see my father and his wife coming down the sweeping stairs. I stand taller, feeling my own pride making me whole again, but Aegeus pauses as if he’s come down for something and now can’t remember what it was he was after. His wife says a few words and he continues to the bottom of the staircase.
I can take it no longer. My heart fills with joy and, ignoring the guard, I rush forward with arms wide to hug Aegeus. Instead of enfolding me in his own embrace and telling me I’ve done well, my father backs away. The guard, realizing his error in letting me pass, looms large behind me. I hear a scuffle from behind me and Odysseus cursing. Before I can react, my arms are pinned by the brutish guard.
The sudden sense of being whole vanishes in a heartbeat. Why is my father setting guards on me? Why is he not welcoming me? Has he lost his mind in my absence?
"Father," I say hesitantly, "aren’t you glad to see me? I’ve succeeded. The minotaur is dead."
Aegeus, who has worn a confused look on his face, now scowls as if he was the minotaur’s biggest fan and I destroyed the creature he idolized.
"I don’t know who you think you are, but my son is in Minoa. He may already be dead, having given his life for Osteria. Don’t insult his memory by calling me father. Guards, arrest this imposter."
I am swarmed by hulking figures. I struggle, casting about for Kyros or Pheres or anyone who can vouch for me. But I meet no familiar faces except that of my father who for some reason sees me only as a cruel stranger. In the blink of an eye, I go from being Osteria’s hero to an Athenian prisoner.