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“Have her if you like, but let’s get the rest first.”

Dawn is breaking across the sky. My heart pounds in my chest. I feel for the dagger but it’s not here; I must have left it in the saddlebag. My arrows, though, are with me, under my cloak, and my bow is on the ground. I reach for them quickly and jump to my feet.

“Don’t touch me. And don’t touch my horse. I’m armed, and more dangerous than you think.”

The two men are to my left, just a few paces away, one with his hand on Ajax’s bridle. There’s a pause, and the thickset one chuckles.

“She’s feisty, your girl.”

“I’m warning you,” I say, and notch an arrow from the quiver. Gods help me, I’ll use it if I must. I’ve never taken a life before, but I suppose now I’ll see if the oracle’s words were true. I can’t let them take the saddlebags. They carry all of value that I have, including my mother’s knife, and the little food I have to last me on this journey.

“These are cursed arrows,” I say. “They will find their mark, and they will kill you. They are poisoned at the tip.”

“Now, now, my lady.” The scrawny one laughs, but nervously. “No need to get so excited.”

But with a quick dart, his companion reaches for the bags strapped to Ajax’s side. He means to use Ajax like a shield between us. But his reach was too sudden and violent, and Ajax is rearing up, whinnying ferociously, his front hooves kicking the air. As he brings them down, he sends the big man flying to the ground. I wheel and point my arrow toward the scrawny one.

“Go now! Run, and take your companion with you, or it will be the worse for you.”

His eyes are wide. He nods wordlessly as his mouth opens and closes.

“Get up,” he kicks the other one. “Get up and let’s be gone!”

They scramble toward the road and I watch them go.

Ajax paws the earth, then with a great tug, tears his rope right off the tree: the branch breaks clean away and whips to the floor, dragging a pile of twigs with it as he moves toward me. I was right, then: he could have freed himself with one sharp tug whenever he liked. But now he nudges his great head down toward my shoulder.

“Thank you, Ajax,” I whisper.

As we canter down the road, Delphi at our back, I stroke his mane.

“I have never been very good at making friends, Ajax. But I think perhaps I have found one in you.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Olympus.

From a distance, its summit sheathed in the clouds, this great mountain looked like another world. But now that we are drawing close and are almost at its base, the height of it seems more incalculable, more impossible, than ever.

I wonder, not for the first time, if I am perhaps too suggestible. The oracle told me this was my path, so I took it. And yet there is nothing stopping me from riding on, past this place—all the way to Thessaloniki or further, across the great wide curve of the Aegean, like the outcast I am.

That is a lie. There is something stopping me, and I know exactly what it is.

Perhaps Eros told me the truth, when he said gods were only demons by another name. Love is surely a curse, desire a peril. Because what pulls me toward Eros now, pulls me toward the place that any sensible mortal should avoid.

I draw Ajax to a slow halt, and we stand at the bottom of the mountain, looking up. It’s a considerable ride from the nearest village, which is unsurprising. Mortals fear this mountain; no one will build their homes near the base of it. The gods’ temperaments are volatile, and if they should descend from their home angry, you don’t want to be the first village they meet. I wonder how long it will take me to reach its summit,ifI reach its summit. I have few provisions with me, just a loaf of bread in my saddlebag taken from the inn.

I stare up at the thin dirt path that leads up from the base of the mountain. It is so unassuming, I almost wonder if I have gotthe directions wrong. But no: I’m sure this is the place.

I check the saddlebags once more, and the knife I now wear strapped to my waist. Finally I check the quiver of arrows, making sure they’re secure against my back.

Love and death.

A perfect pair.

Ajax’s breath comes softly, its warmth stirring the air. Summer is toward its end, now, but it seems hotter than ever, as though it has found a new strength in its death-throes. Dawn has come and gone and it’s mid-morning now, the air ripe with heady scents. A bee buzzes nearby.

Come on, Psyche.