Read an Excerpt
From the first chapter:
In the morning there will be the rhythmic clicking of the cicadas. The warm ivory stones. The chunks of marble lying all over the ground, emanating rays of buttery sunlight, pulsating rays of light that will warm the dew that glitters on the grass. The stones will radiate heat to the same vibrations as the rhythm kept by the cicadas, the summer percussion, the insistent rhythm of August on the island of Crete, a music that strikes, that holds the perfect chord for the time, for the place, for the hunger, this hunger that cannot be appeased, has not been appeased since he left me on the island I can no longer claim as home. Neither goddess nor queen, I will submit and he will lead; he will lead me through avenues of cypresses raising their foliage like huge feathery dark green arms welcoming us into the depths of a thick wood, a sprawl of moss across the low-lying valley behind the labyrinth. He will turn, then glance at me for a second, flashing me a look of laughing anticipation. And I will return his glance of taunting desire, feeling sly and feral as I trail after him into the gaping dark mouth of the woods.