She thought she knew what he would ask, and she felt ready to tell him the truth about who and what she was—maybe not all of it, but some. She’d taken that much from him by force. She could give it back.
Diana shrugged. “In the stories it’s always three. Three wishes. Three questions.”
He sighed and settled next to her on the rock again. “Fine. But you have to tell the truth.”
“As much as I can.”
He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Okay, Diana Prince, do you have a boyfriend back home?”
She laughed. That wasn’t what she’d expected at all.
“No.”
“A girlfriend?”
“No. You realize you’re terrible at this, right? That was two questions.”
“But—”
“Rules are rules. One more question, Jason Keralis.”
She waited. She knew what he would ask next.
“Fine,” he said. “What’s the story of the double star?”
She sat up straighter, surprised. No questions about her home? Her people? “You remember that?”
“Yes, and I knew you didn’t want to tell me about it.”
She scowled. “Am I that easy to read?”
“Maybe I’m just an excellent listener. Go on. Story.”
Diana leaned back against the rock, listening to the wind in the pines. This was a different kind of secret to share. She’d already admitted the story was her favorite. She didn’t want to look foolish.
She studied the night sky. “Do you know how to find Ursa Major?”
“The Big Dipper?” said Jason. “Sure.”
She pointed, tracing a path. “If you follow the handle, you’ll see Arcturus there beside it. And if you keep going, you’ll see the star known as the Horn, or Azimech. It’s one of the brightest in the sky.”
“Can’t miss it.”
“But it has a secret.”
He clucked his tongue. “Never a good idea.”
“Never,” she agreed. “It’s really two stars, orbiting the same center of gravity, so close they’re indistinguishable. The story is that there was a great warrior, Zoraida, who swore she would never give herself to anyone but her equal. But none could best her in battle.”
“I’m guessing this is where the hero enters.”
“Zoraida is the hero. But another champion did come to try to win her, a man just as prideful and just as strong. He swore he would defeat her or die in the endeavor, and so, on a rosy dawn, they met and clashed, Zoraida with her trusted axe in hand, and Agathon with a sword that gleamed bright as morning.” Diana closed her eyes, remembering the words of the story. “From the start, it was clear they were evenly matched, and the valley echoed with the sounds of the blows they rained down on each other. On and on they fought, for hours and then days. And when Zoraida’s axe shattered on Agathon’s gauntlet, and Agathon’s sword broke against Zoraida’s shield, still they battled, neither willing to cede victory.”
“Who won?” said Jason.
Diana opened her eyes. “Neither. Or both. Depending on how you look at it. As they fought, their respect for each other grew. They fell in love, but as they were matched in strength, so were they matched in stubbornness. They died in each other’s arms and, with their last breaths, spoke their vows. The gods placed them in the sky, where they might remain forever, neither diminished by the other’s brightness, ruling their corner of the night in haughty isolation.”
“That’s your favorite story?” Jason’s brows were raised in the bemused expression she was coming to expect from him.
“Yes,” she said defensively.
“That is some grim stuff. You a Romeo and Juliet fan, too?”
Diana scoffed. “Hardly. I prefer Benedick and Beatrice.”
“But they weren’t doomed!”
“Doomed isn’t a necessity.”
“Just a nice perk?”
Diana threw up her hands. “It’s a tragic love story.”
“I mean, it’s definitely tragic.”
“It’s romantic. They found their equals.” From the first time Diana had heard Zoraida’s story, she’d been fascinated by it. It had seemed filled with all of the danger and enticement of the World of Man. What would it mean to want someone so much but hold to your beliefs in spite of it? If she’d lost her heart to Agathon, would she have given in or kept to her vow? Maybe the story was a little melodramatic, but that didn’t mean she had to stop loving it. She turned to find Jason watching her again. “Why didn’t you ask me about the island?” she said. “Where I’m from?”
He smiled, and his dimple made a shadow in his cheek. “Truth means something different when it’s given freely.” He bobbed his head toward the valley. “How far away do you think that mountain peak is?”
Diana grinned. “Let’s find out.”
With a laugh, they were plunging down the hill, past the pond, through the silver wood.
Diana shot past him, leaping over a fallen log, under a low branch, her heart pounding a happy rhythm as the forest unfolded before her. She burst from its trees onto a gravelly hillside, sliding more than running as the powdery soil gave way beneath her feet in a shower of pebbles. She heard Jason whoop somewhere behind her, struggling to keep up but apparently enjoying every minute of it.
They were on open ground now, low rolling hills pocked with boulders and scrub clinging to rough planes of granite. She heard Jason’s steady footsteps, and then he was running beside her, matching her step for step. He’s not hiding anymore, she realized. She laughed, and his smile flashed white in the darkness.
Diana let go and ran. You do not enter a race to lose.
She felt the slap of her sandals against the earth, the stars whirling above her. She didn’t bother to pace herself or to worry about how far or how high the mountain might be. She simply ran, Jason’s steps pushing her faster, the hound at the heels of the stag—but she felt no fear, only exhilaration. She didn’t need to worry about what it might mean to lose or how she should comport herself as a princess. There was only the race, the desire to win, the thrill of her wild heartbeat matched to his as they leapt the rocky gully of a stream and began to climb the peak’s steep slope, pushing through thorny scrub and fragrant pine until…there, an old cart track, barely visible, overgrown with weeds and broken by tree roots.
Diana hooted in triumph as her feet met the path, sprinting higher to where the trees were sparse, their trunks bent and twisted by the wind. They looked like women, frozen in a mad dance, the tangle of their hair tossed forward in abandon, their backs arched in ecstasy or bent in supplication, a processional of dancers that led Diana up the mountainside.
Run, they whispered, for this is what happens if you let your feet take root. But wasn’t that the life Diana’s sisters had chosen? Bound to one spot, safe but locked out of time, preparing for a war that might never come?
She rounded a bend and saw the crest of the peak before her, a small shrine near its apex, a Madonna surrounded by withered flowers and packages of sweets, small offerings. Diana somehow knew that there had always been shrines here, holy places where the gods’ names were spoken, where prayers were offered beneath the black and limitless sky.
She put on a spurt of speed, lengthened her stride, and gave a shout as she passed the shrine and reached the mountain’s highest peak, raising her arms in victory.
Jason padded up behind her, jogging the last few yards. His laugh was breathless as he bent double, hands on his knees. “Not nice to gloat,” he panted.
Diana grinned. “We should have made a wager.”
She gazed out over the valley to the peaks of the Taygetus far in the distance, a world painted in black and silver, the sky a dark vault of stars. It seemed to go on and on, unbounded by seas or barriers, a world that might take a hundred human lifetimes to explore. But when they reached the spring, she would have to leave all of these horizons behind.
“Well, I guess I’m no Agathon,” Jason said. “I barely kept up with you.”
She gave him a grudging nod. “You kept up fine.”
“Did I?” he asked, and somehow she knew that was not really the question he was asking. Starlight gilded the lines of his profile as he turned to her.