And she laughed as she drew him up to kiss.
“Yes,” she said against his lips. “Yes.”
Epilogue
A cry broke from Ariadne’s lips at the gruesome sight. The monster shook his head and Theseus’s body fell to the ground, bloodied. She ran to kneel by the man, but saw at once that the wound was too deep and too terrible. Theseus looked up at her, his eyes wide in surprise, and gasped with his last breath, “I am the hero. It is the monster who should die, not me.”
And then his spirit left his body.
Ariadne bowed her head and said a prayer. When she raised it she saw the monster wading in the pool, washing the gore from his chest and head. She stood, but he did not look at her. In fact, he turned his back.
“Monster!” she called, but the moment the word left her lips, she knew it was wrong. “I’m sorry,” she said, softer. “You aren’t a monster, no matter what others say.”
At that he raised his bull head and finally turned to look at her.
There were tears in his beautiful brown eyes.
“I do not know your name,” she said. “Perhaps you’ve never had one—not a proper one, at least. So I’ll call you Asterion—ruler of the stars—if that meets with your approval?”
Gravely, Asterion bowed his head.
Ariadne held out her hand. “Will you come with me out of the labyrinth? It is beautiful here in your garden, but no birds sing and I think it rather lonely.”
So Asterion took Ariadne’s hand and she, following the red thread from the spindle the queen had given her, retraced her steps out of the labyrinth. Of course it took many days, for even with the thread to follow, the labyrinth’s corridors were long and winding. But Ariadne passed the time telling Asterion about the island outside the labyrinth, and the people who lived there.
When at last they reached the entrance of the labyrinth and Ariadne heard birds singing in the trees, she turned to Asterion with a joyful smile upon her face.
But what a surprise met her when she gazed upon her companion! For while Asterion still retained his coal-black hue, his massive shoulders, the horns of a bull, and the tail as well, his visage had changed to that of a man.
And with a man’s lips and tongue came the power of speech. Asterion fell to his knees before Ariadne. “Gentle maiden, I owe you my life,” he said, his voice hoarse and halting. “For years others have entered into my labyrinth bent on killing me. Only you saw me as a thinking being. A man with a soul. In this way you have broken my curse.”
“And I am glad of it,” she said.
Ariadne and Asterion went to the golden castle. But how it had changed since she’d last seen it! The great halls were empty, the courtiers and soldiers disappeared. Together Ariadne and Asterion wandered for many hours before they at last found the mad queen.
What tears the queen wept when she saw her son! For the first time in years she put down her spinning, and she opened wide her arms to receive him. As for the king? Why, he was quite dead. One morning he’d grown irritated at the singing of sparrows on his balcony, and when in a fit of ire he’d chased them, the balcony wall had given way, and the king had fallen to his death.
But the island was in chaos with no one to rule. The people crowded the streets, confused and fearful. So Asterion went to the king’s balcony and raised his hands.
“My people,” he shouted, and immediately all turned their heads to stare in wonder. “My people, I was born a beast, but by the kindness of Ariadne, I have become a man. I know violence, but I prefer peace. If you will accept me as your leader, I will try to rule more justly than my father and I will keep Ariadne by my side as my wife so that I never forget the importance of kindness.”
And as the people cheered, Asterion turned to Ariadne and smiled with his new-formed human lips. “Will you, my sweet maid? Will you be my wife and queen and tutor me in gentleness? Will you be my love forevermore?”
Ariadne placed her palms on his dark cheeks and smiled up at him. “I think you have no need of my tutoring, my lord, but if you will have me as wife, I will gladly wed you and be your love forevermore.”
And so she did.
—From The Minotaur
THREE MONTHS LATER…
Apollo stood with his adopted son and looked with pride at the newly planted oak. The tree stood beside the pond, gently waving dark-green leaves reflected in the clear water’s surface. A sublime sight indeed.
Indio had slightly more down-to-earth thoughts about the new planting. “Can I climb it?”
“No,” Apollo said firmly, for he’d found that simple, blunt statements were least likely to be wriggled out of by a crafty seven-year-old boy. “And Daff can’t, either.”
The little dog barked and spun in a circle at her name, nearly landing in the pond.