Lifestyles of Gods and Monsters

by Emily Roberson

  We go up a flight of narrow stairs to the helm station. Once we are crowded into the tiny room, the captain turns to Theseus. “Your father wants you to call him.”

  Theseus takes a deep breath. “Okay, that’s what I’ll do. Captain, if you’ll excuse us.”

  The captain looks at me. “Your father insisted that you be alone when you call.”

  “Thanks for letting me know,” Theseus says, but he doesn’t ask me to leave. “If you’ll excuse us.”

  The captain shakes her head, but steps out of the room. Theseus closes the door.

  “I’ll sit where he can’t see me,” I say, taking one of the leather benches in the corner of the helm station and drawing my knees up to my chest so I am out of sight of the monitor.

  Theseus dials his father’s number. He stares at the screen while it rings. He wears that bleak look, and I realize that he is still trapped in his own maze. The Minotaur is gone, but Theseus’s story isn’t over.

  When Aegeus’s face appears on the screen, he is harried and anxious looking, his gray hair untidy and his shirt rumpled. A wide, false smile takes over his face when he sees Theseus. “My son! Thank the gods.”

  “Hello, Father,” Theseus says, putting on his own pretend smile in return.

  “Listen, son,” Aegeus says, leaning forward, “are you alone?”

  “Yes,” Theseus says, not looking in my direction, giving no clue that I am here.

  “The ship will stop on the island of Adamantas in a few hours,” Aegeus says, rubbing his ear. “You must drop an item of cargo there. It is incredibly important.”

  “What cargo is that?” Theseus asks.

  Aegeus drops his gaze and his voice comes out a whisper. “The Cretan princess. Ariadne.”

  Cold fingers run up my spine, but I don’t make a sound.

  Theseus raises his eyebrow. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am deadly serious.” Aegeus leans in toward the camera. “You must leave her.”

  “She saved my life, and you want me to abandon her?” Theseus’s voice is devoid of emotion.

  “Not abandon, son, not abandon,” Aegeus says, putting his hand to his upper chest, all wounded innocence. “I would never ask you to abandon the girl. I’m merely saying that she should be returned to the bosom of her family.”

  When I think of being left on Adamantas for my father to find, panic rises in me. I can’t go back. I think of my father’s face as we were leaving. His words—I will bring you back. You will be punished. You are mine.

  A flush has risen across Theseus’s face, and his hands are clenched. “Father, I’m not doing this.”

  Aegeus’s eyes shift, like he’s looking for some new way to convince Theseus. “You must. Listen to me, son, if you don’t give her to her father, he will come to Athens and take her. He has already told me that he will.” He reaches his hand out toward the camera. “We barely survived the last Cretan attack when Androgeous was killed. We’re in no position to defend ourselves now—”

  Theseus interrupts. “That isn’t true. Call up the national guard. Get the people ready. Tell them to defend Athens. They’ll do it.”

  Aegeus runs his hands over his eyes. “I will not ask the people of Athens to go to war to defend a Cretan princess. And it is not only Crete that we have to worry about. I just received intelligence that the Pallantides are plotting a surprise attack sometime this week. We are trying to learn more, but it’s complicated. I don’t have the forces for a two-front war, Theseus. I’m doing everything I can to protect you.”

  “What about Medea?” Theseus asks. “Where is she in this?”

  “Gone. She left with Medus today.” He shakes his head quickly, a look of desolation on his face. “I don’t know if I can manage without her.” He chokes up but forces himself to keep talking. “She says the situation is hopeless. She doesn’t think you are brave enough to leave the girl behind. If Ariadne of Crete comes to Athens, everything is ruined, Theseus. Everything.” Fat tears run down Aegeus’s cheeks and he presses his fist to his mouth.

  I don’t like Aegeus, but I have no pleasure in his misery. What am I asking Theseus to do by bringing me to Athens? What is he risking?

  Theseus holds his hand out toward Aegeus, trying to calm him. “Father, Father, listen,” he says. “It isn’t that bad. We can defend ourselves against both of them. Don’t worry. We can handle the Pallantides. We’ve done it before. We have our sources, we’ll figure out their plans. You concentrate on getting the defenses ready for an attack from Crete. We’re stronger than you think. I promise.”

  But Aegeus doesn’t stop shaking his head and sobbing. “You must leave the girl behind. You can’t bring her here…” He draws in a deep shuddering breath. “You must do this.”

  Theseus crosses his arms. “I won’t.”

  Aegeus takes a shuddering breath. “So, you choose selfishness. Is that what you are telling me? You are still a boy. I am making this decision for you. I will send a message to the captain and the crew, and they will carry the girl to Adamantas.”

  My heart is racing now.

  The captain is waiting outside the door to the helm station. What will I do if she tries to take me by force? There are eleven people on the crew. Is Theseus strong enough to stop them if they decide to get rid of me? Would any of the competitors fight the crew for me? What if I jumped off the ship and asked for help from the media? Would they see me in the dark? I look out the windows at the dark sea. There is nowhere for me to go.

  “Father, wait,” Theseus says. He slides Icarus’s flash drive out of his pocket. “Don’t do this.” He holds up the flash drive. “I know you have been taking money from Minos for years. I have proof of it. I have the video.”

  Aegeus’s mouth is gaping, and he shakes his head back and forth.

  Theseus continues. “If you contact the captain or do anything to hurt Ariadne, I’ll show it to the world. How would you like it if everyone knew that you’d been paid for sending competitors?”

  “You don’t understand,” Aegeus says, his voice a whine. “Our country was bankrupted. There was nothing. The people were going to overthrow me if I didn’t do something. Minos’s money has paid for schools. For roads. For that lovely ship that you are sailing on right now. Without the income from Minos, the Pallantides would have taken over years ago.”

  “It’s blood money, Father,” Theseus says.

  “No, son, listen to me”—Aegeus drops his voice, like he is telling a secret—“Minos has promised me a fortune if we get the girl back to him. Enough to make up for the loss of The Labyrinth Contest. If you leave her, and we take his money, we will benefit. Athens will benefit. But if you bring her here, Minos will come for her. I’m sure of it. It will be like it was with his son—he will burn Athens to the ground.”

  “I’m not doing that, Father,” Theseus says.

  “Son, Theseus, listen to me,” Aegeus says, and his eyes are wild. “Drop the girl on Adamantas, then raise the white sails on the ship, that way I’ll know that it is done. It is our only hope.”

  With that, Aegeus disconnects the call.

  I have a shaky feeling, but I fight it. I didn’t go through everything I just went through to be handed to my father like an animal for sacrifice. I stand up. “I’ll jump off this boat before I go back to my father.”

  Theseus wraps his arms around me. “It’s not happening,” he says.

  “If the captain and the crew try to take me, how will you stop them?”

  “My father won’t risk that.” Theseus runs his hands up and down my arms. “I promise you, whatever happens, I’m not leaving you for your father to find. I swear it.”

  “What about if my father attacks Athens? What will you do then?” I ask in a small voice, wondering what helping me has gotten Theseus into.

  “Ariadne,” he says, pulling me in closer. “I’m not my father. Athens has been weak because he’s weak. The people don’t follow him, because he doesn’t know how to lead. That’s not t
rue with me. Athens won’t be so easy to beat this time.”

  He is using his Hero of Athens voice, and I shiver.

  “Theseus, I don’t want to be a bone that you and my father fight over. I don’t want to be the cause of a war between Athens and Crete.”

  “You won’t be,” he says, running his hand over my cheek. “I’ll introduce you to my mom. You’ll get to see the city. I’ll take you to my favorite gyro place. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

  When Theseus and I leave the helm station, he seems relaxed and calm. In command.

  The captain is waiting for us. “Do you have any orders?”

  “No,” Theseus says. “Continue on to Athens. What time should we arrive?”

  “On our current course, we should be there by morning,” she says.

  Theseus nods.

  Neither Theseus nor I wants to go back to his room. Instead, we go up to the bow of the ship. There is an area inset into the deck ahead of the mast, with benches and cushions, and we snuggle together, listening to the sounds of the waves and looking up at the night sky. It is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. In the darkness, I can see the Milky Way, bright behind the stars. Theseus tells me the names of the different constellations.

  Then he leans over and kisses me tenderly.

  After a long time, Theseus raises himself up on one arm and looks down at my face, pushing my hair back from my cheek.

  “You are so beautiful,” he says, and I believe him.

  “You are, too,” I say, and I run my palm across his chest.

  Then we are moving together, gently.

  And the only eyes on us are the stars.

  * * *

  I wake up with a jerk, confused about where I am. It takes a second to remember that I am on a ship. The sky has brightened to a pale gray. Before too long it will be morning, and we will be in Athens, where a bunch of trouble is waiting for us.

  Theseus kisses me.

  Then he points over my shoulder. “Look,” he says. “Look there.”

  The lightening sky reveals that we are no longer out in the open sea. An outcropping of land extends into the water, and on a high cliff at the end of it, a lonely marble temple stands. Just then, the sun peeks above the horizon, flooding the temple with golden light. Our ship glides past, and I am stunned by its silent beauty.

  “It’s Cape Sounio,” Theseus says. “The Temple of Poseidon.”

  The columns make a stark outline against the sky. The sails of our ship are black against the spreading pink of the dawn. The flotilla of smaller boats has stayed with us overnight. They bob in the water surrounding the Parthenos.

  I look back up at the Temple of Poseidon and see a flash of movement, high on the cliff.

  “What’s that?” I ask. “Look.”

  Theseus follows my pointing finger, and we both make out the small figure, a shadow against the bright light of the rising sun. It is a person, running toward the cliff.

  As the sun gets a little higher, I see the outlines of five or six other people around the temple. They must have seen the running man, too, because they go after him, but he is faster.

  He is almost to the edge, not slowing down, not stopping.

  Theseus and I gasp in horror as the runner plunges off, then falls the long distance down to the ground, his arms and legs wheeling, still running in the air. Then his body is lost in the jumble of boulders below the cliff.

  I cry out. “Oh gods!”

  I’m shaking with horror, and Theseus’s face is pale in the morning light.

  He pulls me in close to him.

  “Can we do anything?” I ask.

  “No one can do anything now.”

  I don’t understand. What kind of despair would drive someone to throw themself off a cliff? How can it be that one minute someone is alive, and running, and in the next they are gone? I wish you could rewind the film—take the runner back to the top of the cliff—but you can’t.

  As the Parthenos moves up the coastline, I hear sirens, and a few of the small boats speed off toward the base of the cliff to investigate.

  “We’ll be getting there in an hour or so,” Theseus says finally. “I should probably get changed.”

  We are walking back toward Theseus’s cabin when the captain stops us. “I need to talk with you both,” she says. “Privately.”

  We go into Theseus’s cabin and he closes the door behind us. The captain stands, holding her hands at her sides, her pale eyes solemn. “I am the bearer of terrible news.”

  “What is it?” Theseus asks.

  “Your Majesty,” the captain starts.

  Theseus holds his hand out. “Like I said before, Theseus is fine. You don’t have to call me that.”

  The captain takes a deep breath. “I’m afraid that I do. King Aegeus is dead. You are now the king of Athens.”

  Theseus looks shocked. “Dead? How? When?” He looks at me. “We just talked to him last night. How can he be dead?”

  The captain runs her hand over her eyes. “We received word moments ago. Your father … he threw himself off the cliff at Cape Sounio. He died instantly, they say.”

  I grab Theseus’s hand as his shoulders droop. An ache grows in my chest.

  “Why?” Theseus asks, his voice numb. “Why?”

  “He demanded to be taken to Cape Sounio at sunrise so that he could see your ship, and when he saw it, he—” She stops.

  “It was the sails,” Theseus says, his voice breaking. “It was because I forgot to change the sails.”

  “It isn’t your fault, Theseus,” I say, holding tight to his hand. Because this is my fault. Theseus’s father killed himself because I am coming to Athens. Theseus didn’t change the sails because he didn’t do what his father ordered him to do. He didn’t leave me on Adamantas. My hands are shaking. One more death added to my tally. Gods.

  Theseus looks up at the curved ceiling, tears running down his face. “Father, why couldn’t you trust me? We were strong enough to protect Athens together. Why couldn’t you wait?” His last words are a whisper. “Why did you leave me to do this alone?”

  I think of everything that Theseus is facing—becoming king with no experience; the Pallantides’ planned attack; Medea, who will not keep her hands out of this if she thinks there’s any chance for her to benefit; and my father and the whole Cretan navy coming to take me back. There is nothing I can do about the Pallantides or Medea, but I can protect Theseus and the people of Athens from my father.

  I look down at Theseus’s hand in mine. It is strong and substantial, calloused from work. I love the feel of it. I know that he would do anything to keep me safe.

  I take my hand out of his.

  “You can’t bring me to Athens,” I say to Theseus. “You can’t.”

  “I have to protect you,” he says. “I promised.”

  I shake my head. “Theseus, you’re the king of Athens now. You have to protect the people, too. And you can’t keep them safe if the first thing that you do brings the firepower of Crete against you.” He starts to say something, but I stop him. “Theseus. I can’t be responsible for bringing death and destruction to Athens. I can’t. I’ve had enough of that for two or three lifetimes.”

  “I don’t want to lose you,” he says, grabbing my hand again and holding tight to it.

  “I’m not giving you up so easily,” I say, touching the side of his face. “I have a new phone now, with a number that can’t be traced to me. We can stay together, and when things settle down here, you can come and see me.”

  Theseus rests his forehead on mine. “It’s not fair,” he says.

  “I know.” A lone tear rolls down my cheek, but I brush it away. I put my hand on his chest, and it feels like our hearts are beating in time.

  He leans in and kisses me, holding me to him. “Where will you go? What will you do?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head.

  The captain clears her throat and I jump. I’d forgotten she was there. “I
have an idea,” she says.

  She leaves us for a minute and then comes back with a pair of scissors.

  Theseus looks at her skeptically. “Scissors?”

  I look at the captain’s short white hair and feel the weight of the long braid that runs down to my lower back, and I know what she’s thinking. “You want to cut my hair.”

  Theseus gasps and reaches his hand out toward my hair, thus confirming that it is my best feature. “Your hair?”

  “Gods, Theseus,” I say, “it’s just hair. It will grow back.” I’m saying the same thing to myself, by the way.

  The captain looks at him, irritated. “With that long dark hair, she might as well have a tattoo that announces she is one of the Paradoxes. Plus, this will mean she won’t have to worry about her hair while she’s getting settled. Luckily, I cut my own hair, so I have the tools we need.” She touches her own cropped hair. “It really is much easier wearing it short.”

  Theseus stares wide-eyed at the captain’s hair. “It’s going to be that short?”

  I smile. “Theseus,” I say. “It’s going to be fine. It’s called a pixie cut. It’s cute.”

  He shakes his head, disbelieving.

  “Not this short,” the captain says. “That would draw too much attention to her. A bob. Sit down,” she tells me, and I take one of the low chairs.

  The captain holds the scissors to the nape of my neck and they make a sawing sound through my thick braid. Finally, she cuts it loose, and my head feels light on my shoulders.

  The captain hands me my two-foot-long braid and I look at it while she continues trimming my hair. “What do I do with it?” I ask.

  Theseus looks like a fish that has been pulled out of the water. He is actually making gasping sounds. “Theseus,” I say, “you’re freaking me out now. It’s going to be okay.”

  “This is necessary,” the captain says sternly. “You are a king now. Kings make sacrifices.”

  “Yes,” Theseus says, taking my braid out of my hands. “I’ll just hold on to this.”

  “We can’t glue it back on,” I say, smiling. As more of my hair falls to the floor, I feel like a weight is lifting off me.