“Wait! Put that stupid thing down for a moment. So what if the Bull Court is at the heart of the maze? You can’t keep a prisoner in the Bull Court!”
“You could keep a prisoner in a room under the Bull Court, though,” Icarus said.
“But there are no—Icarus! Are there rooms under the Bull Court?”
“I have heard my father say so, Lady.”
“Then that is where he is. But how shall I find my way there? And how shall I know which is the proper room?”
“I cannot say. But you might watch the kitchens for the servant who—”
“Icarus,” I said uneasily, “do not—”
“—who is bringing him his meals, for he must be eating,” Icarus concluded.
“Icarus, you are brilliant! Every bit as clever as your father!” Ariadne’s face lit up with joy. There in Daedalus’s workshop she began to dance, closing her eyes and moving her body with a fierce concentration.
“Thank you, thank you for this boon, Great Goddess!” she cried. Still gyrating, she left us.
“Icarus, how could you?” I said.
“He is the son of my father’s cousin,” Icarus said, and he went on painting the bull.
Chapter Nine
Theseus
IT WAS NOW THREE WEEKS SINCE THE FESTIVAL, AND THESEUS had not yet been executed. My mother was waiting and watching for something, some signal, before she had him killed.
I had taken to spending a great deal of time with Asterius. In this situation I could not depend upon his servants to defend him; they would naturally be on the side of their prince, Theseus. Indeed, they might themselves be a danger to Asterius.
I did not take him out to the mountains again but brought my distaff and spindle down into the Bull Pen. I sat in the light well, in the shaft of sunshine that penetrated even into the subterranean Bull Pen, and there I spent my days twisting flax into thread. Whenever Graia wished to be free of the care of Phaedra and Molus I brought them there as well and saw to it that my father heard of my new habits.
“How industrious you are, my daughter,” he said, staring hard at me. “But you should be dancing as well as spinning. You are the daughter of a queen.”
“I do not dance so well as I spin,” I said. “And I enjoy spending time with my brother Asterius.”
“Take very good care that my little Molus and Phaedra do not annoy their brother Asterius. He is a wild and violent creature, and I would not have my babes harmed. Indeed, perhaps it would be better—”
“I will take care, my father,” I said hastily. Luckily a messenger came for him bidding him to the queen’s presence before he could prohibit me from bringing his children to the Bull Pen. I knew that their presence there was the best method I could contrive to ensure the safety of Asterius.
And so I sat and so I spun. My clew of thread grew long and longer still. I called for flax and yet more flax. The injury to my wrist was luckily on the side holding the distaff and not on the side that spun the spindle; even as it was, both wrists ached from the task.
All day I spun and into the night, stopping only when the flickering light of the oil lamp made the flax strands seem to twist and wind by themselves without the aid of my spindle.
Ariadne discovered me in the Bull Pen, spinning as usual.
“Xenodice, come away,” she said. “I need you to do something for me, and you must do it. You must!”
“But I don’t want to leave. What is it?” I asked.
“Xenodice, you have grown very stubborn lately,” Ariadne said. “You do not show me the respect due to an elder sister and one who will someday be a queen.”
“I am sorry, Ariadne.”
“What are you going to do with all that thread, anyway?” she demanded, staring at the large and ever-growing ball.
“One can always use more thread,” I said. “Perhaps I will have it woven into a new dress.”
“Well, put it down now. I do not wish to speak before all these people.” She waved her hand at the Athenian servants. “Or before the brats.” She scowled ferociously at Molus, who began at once to whimper.
“Very well,” I said reluctantly. “But you will have to wait until I find Graia and deliver them into her care.”
“Oh, don’t fuss so,” she said. She swept us all three out of the Bull Pen, giving me no time for more than a backward glance at Asterius, who watched our departure curiously. “Here, you!” She flagged down a passing soldier. “Take the Princess Phaedra and Prince Molus to their nursemaid.”
The soldier and the two children regarded each other in dismay.
“Yes, my lady,” said the soldier, presenting his weapon and saluting her. Molus burst into tears.
“Ariadne, I really think—”
“Come with me now, Xenodice!” Ariadne said through gritted teeth. “I mean it. You are the only one in the world who can help me.”
She dragged me up the staircase to the third floor and into a deserted state bedroom. Drawing me as far from the doorway as possible, she clasped me about the wrists with cold hands. I winced with pain and attempted to withdraw my injured hand.
“My wrist—it pains me,” I said.
She shifted her grasp to my elbows and fixed me with a long stare.
“You must help me. I will die if you do not.” She shook me in her vehemence.
“Help you to do what?” I asked uneasily.
“Set Theseus free, of course. Don’t be an absolute idiot, Xenodice!”
“I’ll not do any such thing!” I said.
“What do you mean?” she said, taken aback. “Of course you will. I’m telling you, you must!”
“How could you ask me to do such a thing? And why should you want it?”
“Because I love him,” she said.
“Because you—! No, I don’t believe it!”
“And why not?” she demanded.
“Oh, Ariadne,” I cried before I could stop myself, “he is so ugly!”
“He is not!” She released my arm and
