"When will this begin?" Cassiopeia asks. "Does he say how much time before we have to start delivering our children into his den of evil?"
"We must start as soon as possible," I say heavily. After all, my son is already being prepared for his journey and I don’t want his handlers—high-ranking Arean vigiles—to get hurt. Plus, the surprise will throw Minos off his guard. "Priam, how long will it take you to select your twelve?"
"A few days to get home and then a few days to make the selection. I feel terrible that I’m glad Hector is married. Paris would go, but I don’t know where he is," he says, talking more to himself in his old-man’s mumble than to the group. "I could never send my own children."
But yet you just volunteered to send a dozen of other people’s children, I think to myself.
"Then I will go with them to Minoa in a week’s time."
"Is it safe for you to go back there?" Acrisius asks.
"Minos is a twisted man and has insisted he will only work with me. I’ll have more guards with me this time. And I want to show him that even if we have given into him, we will not be destroyed by him," I say as the Council applauds my bravery in the face of this danger to the east when, in truth, it is Minos who should fear me.
CHAPTER NINE
Aphrodite
"YOU’RE MOPING TOO much," my brother complains.
"Of course I’m moping." I say, plucking another petal off the cheery face of a pansy. "Ares has taken up with a mortal. Do you know how disgusting that is?"
Too frustrated to sit, I bolt up from my seat, scattering the petals across the garden’s flagstone patio.
Apollo shrugs. He's not picky and doesn't mind dipping into the mortal pool now and then, but I advise him against it whenever possible. "Is it so wrong? Most of them will do anything for you. And you, well, they adore you more than any of us," he says and tosses me the golden apple from Jason's wedding celebration. I catch the gleaming fruit and turn it over in my hand to read the inscription: To the fairest. I’d won it after Paris judged me the most beautiful goddess. Of course I was only up against Hera and Athena, so I was unlikely to lose, but to guarantee my win I promised he would one day have his heart’s desire: Helen.
My brother hops gracefully onto the couch that’s situated to overlook the plains at the edge of Mount Olympus. He stretches out his tanned body like a cat enjoying a sunny window. After setting the apple on a side table, I shift him aside. Once I sit down he leans back with his head on my lap. I finger his bronze curls. If only I could just enjoy the adoration of the mortals and the love of my brother. I know Apollo’s true passion, true adoration is for me, but I’m not Hera. I won’t take my brother as my lover. I’ve never given in when he's curled up next to me in the night, but neither do I push him away. Somehow my lack of outright refusal makes him slavishly devoted to me, keeps him as my protector, and ensures I will always be first in his heart.
How horrible it would be for me if he loved someone else.
"What's funny?" he asks, looking up at me through his thick lashes.
"The thought of you loving someone else more than you love me." I shift him off my lap.
"I could never." He swings his legs to sit upright and scoots closer to me. "Besides, you wouldn’t let me."
I smile at his comment. His tone carries no bitterness, but he's right. After all, if my brother is going to attach himself to someone, she should be worthy of his attention. That dolt Cassandra he fawned over a few centuries ago would have eventually gotten on his nerves, so I saved him a lot of trouble by making her into a laughingstock. Imagine a prophetess that delivers her predictions like a comedian telling jokes. No one took her seriously, no one believed her, so she lived out her life in a permanent state of frustration.
And what about his pursuit of Thalia? So skinny. So timid. She looked and acted like a wet noodle certainly not like someone deserving of a god's love. She was such a drip I thought it only fitting to turn her into a spring. It did little to improve her. Even to this day that spring only gives bland, tepid water.
"Not unless you set your sights on someone suited for you—gorgeous, witty, lively, charming, not mortal."
"Someone like you," he says, shrugging in his habitual way before leaning his head onto my shoulder. "Why did the gods marry you to Hephaestus and not me?"
I’ve wondered this myself and my best guess is that Hera saw my desire for power long ago and wanted to quash it. If she and Zeus were brother and sister, as well as husband and wife, and they were head god and goddess, how easy it would be for the fickle gods and mortals to look to another brother-sister-husband-wife pair for leadership. And the possibility of them looking elsewhere for leadership is not outlandish considering how little attention Zeus pays to anything in Osteria he can’t bed; and, since until only recently, Hera has wasted more of her energy being angry with him, his lovers, and his bastards, than tending to her duties. By marrying me to Hephaestus, the least ambitious of the gods, Hera ended any chance of comparison to or competition with her and Zeus. But if Ares and I could partner—
I break off the thought as soon as I imagine him and that gaunt Pasiphae writhing together in bed.
"Hera thought to humble me a bit," I reply, even though her plan didn’t work very well. I haven't been faithful to Hephaestus since our wedding day. And, while I take advantage of my brother’s hope, there's now no longer any advantage to our becoming lovers.
"But back to Ares and this mortal," Apollo says, leaning forward and dancing his fingers back and forth over the petals until the pansy is whole again. "Can’t you just make her disappear?"
"It's not like the old days where we could just turn humans into waterways," I say, thinking of Thalia. "I mean we can, we have the power, but we're not supposed to."
A rule I would change if I were in power. Why should we be limited? Why shouldn’t mortals be punished when they behave badly and played with when I’m bored?
Apollo presents the repaired pansy to me, but I ignore it. Instead, he fuses the flower to the apple’s stem making it look as if the fruit has sprouted purple and yellow leaves. "So what can you do?"
I shrug then realize I’ve adopted the mannerism from my brother. I get up and walk to the garden’s edge. There’s no low wall to lean on as in some of Olympus’s other gardens, just a sheer drop straight down the side of the mountain. Can Ares really prefer this mortal over me? The idea is idiotic.
"She must have something I don’t. Whatever that something is I need to keep her from making proper use of it. I’ll make her look like a fool in front of Ares. And I don’t mean like your Cassandra. Not a fool people laugh at, but a fool that is despised and pitied for her failure. Ares can't really want her. He must think she can get him what he wants, but if she can’t—" I trail off.
"What does he want?"
"Ares wants to fight," I say, putting it mildly. After all, a war is essentially nothing more than a big fight. He always wants action. It's why I can't resist him. I know the words he spat at me that last time he was allowed on Olympus weren't his true feelings, just frustration. It's the same fiery passion that makes him such a fantastic lover, such a vibrant partner.
I look at the apple in my hand and think of Paris. Because of my promise to him, he believes he’s owed the hand of Helen, but he hasn’t gotten onto Tyndareus’s list of approved suitors. If I can get Paris to act at the right moment, his desire for Helen could be the spark to light a wildfire in Osteria. "I may know how to give him what he wants."
"But first, you need to see Pasiphae fail," Apollo says warily.
"That, my brother," I say, kissing him on the tip of his nose, "is going to be a delightful way to pass the time."
CHAPTER TEN
Minos
ONCE AGAIN I stand with Ariadne at the platform of Minoa’s train station. Once again I wait for Pasiphae’s insisted-upon visit. But this time there is no sense of anticipation, no banter between me and my priestess, just dread. Because although the Osteria
Council has again sent a message telling me of Pasiphae’s imminent arrival, they say she is bringing my punishment without offering any explanation of what that punishment might be and without giving me a chance to deliver my side of the story. The letter actually said that if I step one foot out of my kingdom or even send messengers, these will be taken as acts of aggression that they will, in their own words, “act with full force.” They would bring war against me for trying to speak my mind. It can’t be anything serious if there was no trial, so I’ve resolved to take this punishment and be done with it. A little humiliation, maybe even a little physical pain, is nothing to start a war over. I know the truth and Ariadne believes me. That’s all that matters.
I’ll be honest; it has been a restless few weeks since Pasiphae’s first visit. I feel like a man waiting for bad tidings with no certainty of just how bad those tidings might be. Ariadne has been no help. She isn’t one to be jealous, but I was reluctant to tell her what happened between me and Pasiphae. Still, my priestess is no fool and sensed my discomfort every time we spoke of the councilwoman’s hurried departure.
The morning of Pasiphae’s departure I went to the temple hoping some time with my bulls might soothe my agitation. Instead of being allowed to collect my thoughts, I had to face Ariadne’s questions.
“Why would she leave without even staying here for a single day?" she had asked.
I wasn’t surprised she would comment on Pasiphae leaving so suddenly. Even people on official business find it hard to leave my kingdom after only one night here. Look at Herc Dion and his cousin, Iolalus. They were in a rush to save their entire polis and they still couldn’t resist lingering for an extra day to enjoy the events of our Earthshaker Festival.
When I had hemmed and hawed and shifted on my feet like a little boy trying to answer his mother’s probing questions, Ariadne scrutinized me. I think it was my inability to look her in the eye that gave me away.
"Don’t tell me you bedded her," she said in exasperation. "You idiot." Her insult had carried no anger, no judgement, but her disappointment draped heavily over me. "How could you be taken in by that woman? You had to know she was only bedding you to lure you into complacency with some damn Council scheme."
"You don’t have to put it so bluntly," I had said, feeling slightly affronted that Ariadne assumed a woman would only bed me to fool me. "And I only did it once. I didn’t give into her the second time."
"If I had the gods’ ears I would call their curses down on you," Ariadne said. "By bedding her once and refusing her the second time, you’ve likely made matters worse. Of course it would be better if you hadn’t bedded her at all, then maybe we wouldn’t be wondering what the Council might do to us or which company of the Arean army that woman might throw at us."
At the time, I thought she was overreacting. I was sure the Osteria Council wouldn’t believe Pasiphae if I wasn’t there to defend myself. But with this latest message, I have my doubts. I used to believe Minoa was far enough to be out of the reach of any trouble from the Council, and strong enough to resist if they did try to fight us. Now I wonder if I was fooling myself in thinking I was immune from that vile group. They will take whatever they want using whatever fair or foul means they have at hand.
The train rattles its way into the Minoa station. Normally, people file out in an orderly fashion, and those who have never been here gawk upwards with dazed expressions at the glass and steel buildings jutting up from my city center that is said to be even more modern than Athenos, the most advanced polis in Osteria. Others who make routine visits here—merchants and traders from the poli—feign disinterest at my kingdom’s glory, but can still be caught sneaking glances upward.
But today is not a normal day. Passengers hurry off the train, pressing old people and children aside in their haste to be off the huge machine. No one turns their gaze upward because they are too busy voicing complaints, comforting one another as they stagger away from the platform, and scurrying past one of the cargo carriages as they eye it with fearful curiosity.
Before I have time to wonder what has them in such a panic, the whole train shakes as something huge and heavy bashes against the inside of the carriage that has drawn some of the braver passengers’ attention.
"What does the Council have in store for you?" Ariadne asks. Her face shows concern but no fear. I’m grateful for her sturdy demeanor as my gut rumbles with acidic anticipation.
"Perhaps it’s just a donation," I say. It’s not uncommon for Osterians to send me bulls that have proven too feisty to handle. These donations as I’ve deemed them come to me as angry, misbehaving beasts that cannot be controlled with whip or wit. Over time, I rehabilitate them using kindness, patience, and plenty of apples. Before I can convince myself of this delusion, a bellowing cry echoes across the platform. The sound is something out of a nightmare: a combination of a lion’s roar, a man’s angry grunt of pain, and the sharp chortle of a frightened horse. This is no bull and certainly no donation.
The call encourages the rest of the passengers and curious onlookers to clear the platform. Besides wary porters, the only person left is an elegantly slim woman in an emerald-toned dress. Whereas before I thought her beautiful, she now seems gaunt like a scraggly old tree ready to hurl its branches down on an unlucky passerby. Whereas before I wanted nothing more than to bed her, I now want to tell her to get away from my kingdom and never come back. Flanked by five men who have the hulking build of laborers or wrestlers, she starts toward me. I step up to greet her, wanting to keep her as far from my gates as possible.
"Pasiphae," I say coldly. "Why have you come?"
"Minos," she says and then makes a tutting sound. "That’s not a very friendly way to greet a lover is it?" She smirks and glances up at Ariadne as if hoping to see jealousy in my priestess’s face. When she doesn’t find it, her eyes focus on me. "Sorry for leaving so abruptly. I wanted to give you time to reconsider."
"My answer is still no."
"Are you certain? The Council thinks you should."
"Did you lie to them?" I ask in a hissing whisper. I want to grab her by the arm and shake the answers out of her, but I cannot make any violent display and worsen my cause. "You know I did not rape you."
"They— How should I put it? They have their concerns about you, but you still have a chance to save your kingdom." Again, something very large crashes against the inside of one of the cargo carriages. Pasiphae glances back in the direction of the noise then looks at me with a charming smile on her false lips. "Would you like to see the gift I have if you refuse to join?"
"I can handle any creature you leave here," I say with more confidence than I feel. I don’t know what’s in that carriage, but a clear voice tells me it’s not something that will be won over with a satchel of apples.
"Guards, open the carriage."
I am about to protest. Even if she is going to burden me with a wild beast, I will not have my people, nor my city ravaged by a crazed animal. But the guards, who wear olive green tunics and breastplates embossed with the crossed arrow symbol of Aryana, yank the carriage door open before I can say anything. I’m hit with the stench of feces and putrid flesh. In the darkness of the carriage all I can make out is the dull metal glint of a series of vertical bars. A cage. As the smell assaults me, I am overwhelmed with an urge to never know what is in that cage, to slam the carriage door shut, and to tell the train to leave as fast as possible and never come back.
"One more chance to reconsider," Pasiphae says, as smoothly and calmly as if asking whether I’d like to rethink my refusal of a cup of beer. "All you have to do is give control of your forces over to me, and the Council will take it as an act of contrition and call off this punishment."
"You cannot unleash that thing here," Ariadne says sternly but with a waver of fear in her voice.
"Actually, I could, but I won’t because that thing, as you call it, is all for you, Minos. You will house my son and you will feed him and you will earn the wrath of every
polis and every kingdom in Osteria until you say, ‘Enough, dear Councilmembers, I agree to give my kingdom to you.’ Or you could just sign an agreement now and I will take him home with me." She speaks flippantly, but I can see from the worry in her face that she may not truly want to leave whatever is in there with me. Someone has put her up to this.
I also don’t miss that she has now gone from requesting I side with the Council to demanding complete surrender to them. No doubt that was her intention all along. I want to say that will never happen, but whatever is in that carriage leaves me unsure of everything I’ve ever believed.
Without warning, the beast crashes against its enclosure again. The force tilts the cage and even bends the iron bars. The bars, which are as thick as my arm, show several areas of similar damage and the creature inside has blood trickling from wounds on its shoulders where its skin must have met metal dozens of times since it was trapped. Or has it always lived in this captivity? I doubt that whatever is in there lives in a quiet palace room down the hall from— her son? The word finally registers in my mind. She is its mother? What monstrosity did she breed to create a child like this? And what cruelty has she shown him to make him so vicious?
Just as I’m about to feel sorry for the animal, it lunges at the cage again, this time with its mouth open. The incisors resemble those of a man, but are at least three times the size of any human’s. The dagger-like canines measure as long as my index finger. It chews on the bars, its teeth grinding against the iron as frustrated grunts gurgle from its throat.
"Why will the poli and kingdoms hate me?" I ask as her earlier comment makes its way through the horror this thing has encased me in.
"A creature like this needs to be fed. And he has very particular dietary needs."
My mind races. How many bulls and cows are in their senior years? How many of them could be used to satiate this monstrosity?
The Maze of Minos Page 9
