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“My mother brought me to that place to punish me, yes—but also to re-make me. To re-make my mind, my loyalty. To make me forget you, and my own self.”

I close my eyes against the wind, the hurtling road.

“Even a god’s mind cannot hold out forever. I don’t know how long it would have taken her to break me, to take my mind apart and mold it back to how it once was—compliant, obedient, her devoted son.” His voice is sharp. “But… you came for me.”

It occurs to me that he is an outcast, anostrakonnow, too: such things exist even among the gods, I suppose. But despite the chilling things he speaks of, all I feel is his warmth behind me and his voice in my ear. We’re clear of the mountain now, flying along the open road to Elassona. The sun behind the trees looks watery and strained and a bluish cast is in the air; there is no warmth in this evening at all. But something warm and bright blooms in my soul.

*

It is evening by the time we reach Elassona. We have avoided any villages or encampments till now, taking back roads only,but Eros insists I eat tonight. Since he has no cloak and cannot accompany me, I ride Ajax into the marketplace alone. Quickly I barter for some bread and cheese, then on impulse stop at another stall selling hides and wool, thinking they may have a cloak to sell me.

“For a tall man,” I say, “and with a deep hood, enough to cover his whole face.”

He looks at me strangely, but finds something that will do the job. He stares at Ajax the whole time, and when I try to pay, nothing will please him except to try and buy my horse from me. I tell him that I cannot sell, that the horse is my husband’s, but he only looks at me more narrowly. It is a relief to be back on Ajax, riding toward the forest again. Ajax knows the way.

Eros is waiting for us in a small grove, ringed around with laurel trees. The sky is turning golden now, and in its light Eros glows, the most beautiful sight I have ever known. A confusion of awe and desire goes through me.Can this really be?I feel shy: it was easier when he sat behind me and I did not look upon his face. Did all that happened between us before truly happen? Did I once share my bed with a god? The memory assails me, like something I dreamed once, and heat flushes through me.

He reaches for me, to lift me down from Ajax’s saddle. Our eyes meet and I see his soften. But he says nothing, just places me gently on the ground.

All it takes is a wave of his hand, and laurel trees twist and grow, their branches sliding and interlocking with a sigh and a shudder. They twist into a canopy: a living treehouse more delicate than what any sculptor could craft.

“You are tired,” Eros says, his voice veering toward abruptness again. “We will sleep here for the night.”

I look sideways at him.

“You haven’t changed much,” I say. “Still making decisions for me.”

He turns sharply, then sees the look on my face and understands that I am teasing him. His eyes glint.

“Youhaven’t changed much. Still lacking in gratitude and manners.”

“Manners!” I say. “I’ll teach you manners!”

“Not if I teach you first,” he says, and hoists me into his arms, lifting me over the threshold of our tree-home for the night. Its branches slide across the gap after we enter, sealing behind us, but an enchanted glow lights the space inside and turns everything a dim gold.

He sighs my name, and I bury my face in his neck and listen to his heart beat.

“Does a god’s heart always beat so fast?” I murmur.

He brushes the hair back from my face and looks down at me.

“Yours beats much faster,” he says. “Yours is thundering. You must want me very badly.”

I see the gleam in his golden eyes. He’s teasing me right back.

“Are you going to continue to torment me like this?” I say.

“Always,” he says, staring at me.

And just as I think he’s going to stare at me forever, he finally lowers his mouth to mine.

They say when you die your life flashes before your eyes. I must die a little, because every moment I’ve ever lived seems to flutter through my mind in an instant—and then after that, a blissful emptiness. I am an empty husk, nothing in me but warmth and want.

This is what mortals pray to Eros for, isn’t it? To feel this.

I draw him toward me, but he stills my hand with his. Then with the other hand he pulls the brooch from mychiton, and pushes the fabric slowly back from my shoulder. He bares my skin inch by inch, his eyes never leaving mine, unwrapping meslowly, like a gift. I can tell by the pulse in his throat he’d like to go faster, but he’s showing off his self-control to me, his capacity for discipline.

I have no use for discipline now, and as soon as I can wriggle free, I show him that.