All three of us lay there in a puppy pile, not speaking, just pulling comfort out of contact with the water keeping watch. I wanted comfort more than anything right then, and right then, I had it. Wrapped in Eryx and Irene’s arms, I was home.
A foot nudged me awake. I opened my eyes, blinking at bright sunlight arrowing back from the waves. Bits of color danced above them. My arms and legs were stiff, still tangled up with Eryx and Irene. I looked up at a brown uniform.
“You can’t sleep here,” the cop said. “You’ll have to move along.”
A spurt of adrenaline jerked the last bits of sleep away from me, and Eryx and Irene came instantly awake as well. Irene’s hand flicked to her pink shorts, and I saw the outline of her knife in one of the pockets. I prayed she wouldn’t pulled it out. Then she seemed to relax a little.
“Did we fall asleep?” she said. “Holy shit! Come on, guys—Mom and Dad are gonna kill us!”
We fled. The cop didn’t seem interested in chasing us, and we got back to the nursing home, no trouble. A dozen little lizards skittered out of our way when we entered the bedroom, and we sat on the mattress, a little uncertain. Eryx grabbed my hand and squeezed. I smiled at him. Shit, he was holding my hand. I kind of wished Irene would go away for a little while so Eryx and I could talk or … do other stuff, but I sort of wanted her to stay, too.
“You two look so cute together,” she said. “So are you gay or what?”
In answer, Eryx kissed Irene. “I think it’s ‘or what,’” he said with a smile as rare as platinum.
My pocket rang. I didn’t understand what I was hearing for a second, then remembered the cell phone Lucian had given me. A cold, black pit in my stomach swallowed up all my fine feelings. Irene and Eryx looked at me.
“Better answer it,” Eryx said quietly.
I did.
“It’s me,” Lucian said. “I need you in here by five o’clock. Don’t be late.”
0o0
Colors swirled around Ganymede. The world slipped and slid, and then he was standing in Ilos’s bedroom in the palace at Knossos. Ilos, his ash-blond hair darkened by the dim lamplight, was still staring out into the night rain, his back to Ganymede. Iris let go of Ganymede’s hand, gave him a small smile, and then faded into the wall, her colors blending perfectly with the painted plaster better than a camouflage commando. He couldn’t see her, but he could sense her presence, and he was glad for it. Zeus’s golden goblet made a heavy weight at his belt.
Ilos must have heard something, because he spun around. Disbelief flickered across his face, followed by joy.
“Ganymede!” He crossed the room in three steps and crushed his brother to him in a bear hug. A part of Ganymede was thinking Ilos was a strong man, and the hug should have hurt at least a little, but it didn’t. The rest of him was glad to see Ilos.
Ilos broke away and held Ganymede at arm’s length. “Minos said you went over the cliff when lightning struck that tree. Everyone—I—thought you were dead.”
“I’m not,” Ganymede said. “But Ilos—Minos tried to kill me. He said he was going to cut me up and throw me over the edge so it would look like an accident. If the lightning hadn’t knocked him back down the hill, he would have done it.”
Outrage reddened Ilos’s face. “The bastard! Shit, this changes everything.” He paused. “Look, are you willing to face him?”
“Face him?” Ganymede blinked. “What do you mean?”
Ilos paced the stone floor. The flickering oil lamps hanging from the ceiling sent his shadows dancing in distorted puddles around his feet. “I mean that Minos has been going on and on about this accidental death and how tragic it was and how he even tried to save you from going over. He’s been looking all heroic and kingly. But if you walk into the room, hale and alive and clearly willing to talk about what really happened, he’ll know he’s going to look like a total asshole—or a complete fool—in front of the entire court. He’ll have to give us the trade agreement. This is exactly the leverage we need!”
“Leverage?” Ganymede found it hard to speak. “You … I’m not … Ilos, you thought I was fucking dead!”
“But now you’re not, and we can use this for Troy,” Ilos said.
It all rushed over Ganymede in a wave. He looked at Ilos with new eyes, new power, and new insight he hadn’t possessed before. Maybe it was because he’d become an immortal, or maybe it was just that all the shit he’d been through had forced his eyes open. Whatever the reason, Ganymede saw all too clearly how Ilos had been willing to sell his younger brother’s marriage, his body, even his soul to get what he wanted, and all his smooth, kind words were nothing but a diplomat’s trick to get Ganymede to agree with it all. The trade agreement had always been more important to Ilos than his own brother, because the trade agreement would cement Ilos’s hold on the throne of Troy—and guarantee that Ganymede, left behind in Crete, would have no claim on it whatsoever.
For a terrible moment, he wanted to toss Ilos out the window, knew he could without even trying hard. But he also remembered Minos and he remembered the people in Troy who would go cold and hungry without Minoan food and lumber and cloth. They didn’t deserve to suffer for Ganymede’s anger.
“Fine,” Ganymede said, spinning on his heel and storming out of the room.
“Wait!” Ilos hurried after him. “Where are you going?”
“To see Minos. And then I have other shit to do, Ilos.”
“What are you talking about? You don’t have anything to do, except maybe get ready for the wedding.”
Ganymede tossed him a disbelieving look and kept walking. “I’m not marrying that clingy little ghost. Don’t even fucking ask.”
“What’s wrong with you, Ganymede? You’ve never acted like this before.”
Ilos tried to put a hand on Ganymede’s shoulder, but he shook it off and continued on his way. There was nothing Ilos could do but follow. The stony halls of the palace were dark and empty, and Ganymede should have gotten lost in the labyrinth of black corridors, but he didn’t need light or a guide. He knew exactly where to go and how to get there. Being an immortal had its perqs. Although he couldn’t see her, Ganymede could sense Iris’s presence, and he felt a little better knowing she was still there.
They arrived at the huge double doors that led into Minos’s private chambers. A pair of armed guards came to instant attention when Ganymede and Ilos came into view. One of them held out his hand to halt their progress, but he faltered when Ganymede approached. Ganymede, for his part, ignored the men. The doors opened themselves to let Ganymede in. He flicked a glance at Ilos, but his brother was apparently too flustered with Ganymede’s change of behavior to notice anything odd.
Ganymede strode straight into the king’s large, luxurious bedroom with Ilos right behind him and Iris slinking around in camouflage. Silk rugs softened the floor, and fine furniture fought with little statues and other artwork for space. Brass braziers chased away the damp. Servants drowsed near the big bed but came instantly awake when Ganymede and Ilos entered. Also near the bed, dozing in a chair, was the palace healer. He bolted to his feet. Minos himself lay flat on his back in the bed, his leg in the splint Ganymede had seen earlier.
The servants swarmed toward Ganymede and Ilos, ready to push them out, get them away from the king, but all of them spun aside with dazed looks on their faces the moment they got within a few feet of Ganymede. Now Ilos did stare. The healer, who seemed to be made of stronger stuff, got between Ganymede and the bed.
“The king is sleeping,” he said. “I’ve given him a potion. He won’t wake up until morning.”
Ganymede, feeling more powerful than he ever had as a prince, brushed the man aside and stood at Minos’s bedside. The king was snoring softly through his black beard. Ilos came up beside him, looking amazed and puzzled.
“What are you doing?” he demanded. “How are you doing this? What’s changed about you?”
Ganymede didn’t answer. The king slept on, and Ganymede unders
tood that with a simple gesture, he could halt the flow of all the liquids in Minos’s body. He could change Minos into water or wine. He could draw all the blood out of Minos’s veins and leave it in a red pool on the floor. Any one of these things could cause Minos to die a quick or a slow death, whichever Ganymede chose.
For a moment, Ganymede reached out to do exactly that. Then he hesitated. If Minos died, Ilos would have to start negotiating all over again with whoever took his crown, and that might take months or even years. The people of Troy still needed Minos. Much as he wanted to, Ganymede couldn’t kill him.
But that didn’t mean Ganymede couldn’t still have some fun.
The healer’s potion was a liquid, and it was simple enough for Ganymede to find it in the Minos’s blood, banish it with an easy flick of his fingers. The king’s eyelids fluttered and he came awake, his eyes bright with sudden pain.
“Wha—?” he said blearily. Then he caught sight of Ganymede bending over him. He jerked awake with a satisfying yelp, which he immediately followed with a screech of pain as he jolted his broken leg. “How did—what is—who … ?”
“It’s me, Minos,” Ganymede said, his voice become rich and powerful as old wine.
“You can’t be here,” Minos whispered. His face was pale with pain and fear, and he was clutching the bedclothes up to his chin like an old woman. “It’s impossible!”
“It’s more than possible,” Ganymede said. He leaned in closer to whisper in the older man’s ear. “I’m here, and now everyone can learn the truth of what happened on top of that hillside. You’re going to have an interesting reputation around your own kingdom now, Minos the Liar. Minos the Molester. Minos, Murderer of Princes.”
“My leg hurts,” Minos said. “What did you do to me?”
“If you want my silence,” Ganymede said, “agree to trade with Troy. Now.”
Minos’s white face stared at Ganymede in the thin light. Ganymede continued to meet his gaze, letting the power of an immortal brim over in his eyes. Zeus’s goblet felt rich and powerful at his belt. Minos struggled, but he was no match. “Agreed.”
“If you’ll just press your ring here, your Majesty,” Ilos said quickly. Ganymede had no idea how or where he’d managed to come up with a wax tablet with the trade agreement on it, but it wasn’t much of a surprise, either. Minos pushed the gold ring with his symbol on it into the soft wax and dropped his hand. Ganymede noticed it was shaking and felt a little mean gladness. He turned to Ilos, who was looking pleased.
“That all you needed?” he asked. “We good?”
“What? Oh—yes,” Ilos said. He was staring down at the waxen words. “Everything is perfect.”
“Fantastic. Iris, can you get me the fuck out of here?”
Colors swirled through the room and Iris stepped out of nothing. Before anyone could react, she grasped Ganymede by the elbow and more colors rushed around them in a waterfall of light and air. Ganymede caught a satisfying glimpse of Ilos’s stunned face and Minos’s terrified expression before he found himself standing alone with Iris in the gentle light just outside the great hall of Olympus. Music and sounds of laughter leaked out around the huge doors.
“There!” Iris said, smoothing her rainbow dress. “One of my smoother rides, too.”
“Thanks,” Ganymede said. “And thanks for staying with me. I don’t think I could have done that alone.”
“Sure.” She took his hand and squeezed it briefly. Ganymede found he liked her touch a lot. And her smile was very pretty. He wondered if goddesses ever went out with former mortals.
“Listen, G—I want to give you some advice.”
He shifted a little nervously. “Okay. Go.”
“You need to be careful about who you talk to and what you do. Really careful. You probably think that you’re used to politics and stuff like that because you’re a prince, but you’re an immortal now, and that makes everything different.” She scratched her nose, a strangely human gesture. “Hermes has a saying: ‘To a mortal, a hundred miles is a long way and a hundred years is a long time.’”
“All right,” Ganymede said slowly. “But I don’t really get what the advice is.”
“Be careful,” she repeated. “It hasn’t happened to you yet, but do you know the main problem with immortality?”
Ganymede shook his head.
“Boredom,” Iris said. “We’ve seen and done everything there is to see and do. That’s why Zeus and Hera argue so much. Marital happiness is dull, but fights are interesting. This means you’re in a dangerous position, G.”
“Dangerous? How?”
“You’re new. You’re interesting. That means the others will try to use you. They’re bored, and you’ll give them something to do. So watch your step. They can be both kind and cruel, but they do both just to pass the time.”
“What about you?” Greatly daring, Ganymede reached down and took her hand again. “Why are you being so kind to me?”
She gave a winsome little smile that curled Ganymede’s toes. “Because I think you’re interesting.”
The great doors opened by themselves, and Iris slipped inside, leaving a blurry rainbow trail behind her. Ganymede followed and found the music had stopped. Several thrones were empty. Clearly, the party was winding down. To Ganymede’s surprise, Hera had returned to the hall. She was deep in conversation with Aphrodite, but she eyed Ganymede narrowly as he took his place next to Zeus’s throne. Hera’s long brown hair shimmered in curly waves down her back, and her flawless face complimented a lovely figure barely hidden beneath a breathtaking dress of violet silk.
“The feast has ended, husband,” she called to Zeus. “Are you coming to bed?”
Ganymede would have bolted for the bedroom without a second’s thought, but Zeus merely gave her a slight shake of his head. “The boy here”—his hand landed on Ganymede’s shoulder, and at Zeus’s touch, all thoughts of Hera’s beauty fled Ganymede’s mind—“is new to Olympus, and I thought I’d show him around.”
Hera’s face hardened. She nodded curtly and simply vanished from the hall. The few remaining gods pretended to take no notice, but Ganymede could see them watching from the corners of their eyes.
Zeus rose, stretched, and steered Ganymede out of the hall. As they left, Ganymede caught Iris’s eye. She raised a single eyebrow and mouthed, “Be careful.”
But the gesture barely registered. Ganymede felt the heat of Zeus’s hand on his shoulder, saw the glimpse of a smile in Zeus’s beard, and it was all he could do to stop himself from falling down at the king’s feet. He still couldn’t get over the fact that the ruler of Olympus had chosen him. Sure, Ganymede was a prince, but Troy was a small, backwater village compared to places like Athens or Sparta, and Zeus could have his pick of lovers from any of those places. Still, his stomach churned a little. So much was happening so fast, he couldn’t quite take it all in.
A maze of hallways and corridors snaked in all directions. Each one was different. This one was worked stone, that one a rough cave, another one a tunnel through trees, and yet another a passageway cut through cold ice. Zeus made no attempt to explain any of them or tell Ganymede exactly where they were, making it more and more obvious he’d been lying about a tour.
Zeus’s hand remained on Ganymede’s shoulder, and his thumb caressed the back of Ganymede’s neck, sending shivers down Ganymede’s spine. Back in Troy—and elsewhere in Greece—young boys were assigned a mentor, a man who taught the kid whatever he and the boy’s father decided he needed to know—sword work, hunting, wrestling, archery, horsemanship, discipline, and all the other stuff that would make him into a man. In return, the boy acted like a servant to his mentor—cleaning and repairing his armor, running errands, taking care of his horses, serving food and drink at his table, and more. The “and more” usually included sex. It wasn’t considered weird or abnormal or anything like that—it was expected and accepted. And when the boy became a man, one day he would take on a student and do the same thing.
Ganymede’s mentor in Troy, however, had been an old man named Miklos, and while Miklos had been a great teacher, he hadn’t shown any interest in screwing around with Ganymede. Zeus, however, seemed intent on becoming Ganymede’s mentor. He had given Ganymede power and immortality, and it was very clear that he didn’t intend to leave Ganymede’s body alone, either.
They arrived in a bed chamber not unlike Minos’s—opulent furniture, lush carpets, fine tapestries. But the roof was open to a bright sky filled with fat clouds.
“Is it ever night here?” Ganymede asked in awe as the door boomed shut behind them.
“Only when we want it to be,” Zeus said, and he crushed Ganymede to his chest. The full power of Zeus’s desire thundered over Ganymede, and he didn’t even try to resist. Laughing, Zeus picked Ganymede up and tossed him lightly down on a bed large enough to handle a herd of horses. The breath rushed out of Ganymede, and suddenly Zeus was there, running his hands over Ganymede’s face, his chest, his legs. The god’s touch filled Ganymede with thousands of tiny electric shocks, and Ganymede gasped.
“You’re so beautiful, my beloved,” Zeus murmured. “The most beautiful, talented mortal I’ve ever seen. You’re my favorite, Ganymede. Now and forever, my favorite. For as long as the sun shines and moon glides through the sky, my favorite.”
And suddenly Ganymede felt tears sting his eyes and a lump fill his throat. For a moment he couldn’t understand why, but that passed quickly and he did understand. All his life, his father Tros had favored Ilos and Ganymede’s other brother Assaracus because they were older, smarter, and better at statecraft. Tros had overlooked Ganymede’s talent at entertaining and paid little attention to Ganymede’s skill at athletics. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how unwanted and stupid he had felt all his life. Now, Zeus himself was saying Ganymede was his favorite, that he was both beautiful and talented. He’d been waiting to hear those words all his life, and in this moment he was hearing them from the king of gods.
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