Chapter 11 #2
As if sensing my darkening mood, Penelope began to talk while she worked.
“I wanted to see the suitors. That is why I was in disguise. I am not permitted to wander the palace as a princess. But as a slave, I can slip by unnoticed. I used to do it sometimes when my father entertained guests back home.”
“Why did you want to see them?”
“I wanted to assess my options.”
“I thought you didn’t get a say in that,” I said, wincing as she retrieved another shard.
“I have no choice in marriage, but when it comes to choosing a suitor, men can be far more easily swayed than one might think. The trick is letting them believe it was their idea.”
“Like yesterday, when you let Polydeuces win your game?”
A wisp of surprise stole across her face, and I hated how much I liked the sight of it, knowing how rare it was to see.
“Yes.” She nodded, staring up at me. “Just like that.”
“Why did you do it? Let him win?”
“Sometimes it is more advantageous to lose. Polydeuces has a terrible temper, and I did not wish to unleash it on you.” She paused as if catching herself, then added quickly, “Or any of those serving him.”
We both glanced away at the same moment, the awkwardness palpable between us.
“This might hurt. I am sorry,” she murmured as she tugged at a larger shard.
“So you just…snuck around in disguise and decided…on a husband?” I forced the question through gritted teeth.
“Not quite.” She kept her focus on her task as she spoke. “I have been gathering information on all the suitors for many moons now. I had narrowed my choices down to a few candidates, but I wished to see them in person before I decided which would be the best fit.”
“And have you? Chosen?”
“Odysseus, prince of Ithaca, is the best match.”
“That suitor in the hallway? He’s a bit old, isn’t he?”
“He’s thirty-eight summers.”
“That’s over twice your age.”
Penelope smiled thinly. “Do you think that matters to my uncle? There are suitors here who have seen over sixty summers. This shard is quite deep.”
I winced, gripping the chair. “So…why him?”
I did not care what her answer was, did not care who she married. This was just a distraction from the pain, a channel in which to focus my thoughts.
That was all.
“They say Odysseus is an intelligent man, and he values that trait in others. He is known to treat his people with respect, and he also speaks highly of his mother and sister. There.” She held up a bloodstained fragment. “I think that’s the last of them.”
“That can’t be all.”
“I think it is. I cannot see any more remnants in there—”
“No. I mean that cannot be the only reason you chose Odysseus.”
Penelope paused, her gaze creeping up to meet mine.
“No, you’re right,” she murmured, drawing in a breath. “Ithaca is a modest kingdom of little renown. Odysseus wishes to build it into something greater. I think it would be…interesting to be the queen of an evolving kingdom. I believe there would be more opportunities for me there.”
She admitted the last part as if it were a secret, as if her ambition were a shameful thing to be kept in the shadows.
“Doesn’t that usually mean war?”
She shook her head. “Ithaca is not a military kingdom. They cannot achieve greatness through bloodshed.”
“Then how?”
“Therein lies the challenge.” Her smile itched at old, unwanted memories.
“Tyndareus might choose Odysseus for Helen.”
“Odysseus’s background is far too humble for Helen,” she said, patting my knees with the soaked rag. “And Tyndareus will let Odysseus have me because Odysseus will strike a deal.”
I frowned. “A deal?”
“When I met Odysseus earlier today, we discussed my uncle’s current…predicament. I told him my plan for avoiding conflict when Helen’s suitor is chosen. Odysseus will offer this solution to my uncle, and in return, he will ask for something he wants. My hand.”
“How can you be sure he’ll ask for your hand?”
Penelope stared at the rag, my blood blooming across it. “Because tonight, catching me in disguise—it surprised him. And he is a man who is rarely surprised.”
“You intended to be caught by Odysseus tonight.” I spoke the realization as it came to me. “You wanted him to see you in your disguise.”
Instead of confirming this, Penelope simply asked, “Would you like me to bandage your knees?”
I shook my head. Then, unable to stop my bitterness seeping through, I added, “I suppose I nearly ruined it. Your little plan.”
“You did not ruin anything, Melantho. I’m just thankful I was there.”
“Why were you there?”
Penelope glanced away, the fire-cast shadows seeming to grow darker across her face.
“I heard you calling to the guards for help.”
My defenses reared. I could feel them clanging through me, ugly and loud.
“I didn’t need you. I could’ve handled it.”
“Exactly.” Penelope met my anger with a smile. “I dread to think what state Agamemnon would have been in if I hadn’t intervened.”
To my surprise, I felt my mouth curl upward, but I quickly caught the smile, pressing it firmly between my lips.
“Aren’t you going to punish me…for what I did to him?”
“Punish you?” Penelope shook her head incredulously. “Of course not. He deserved it. Only…”
“Only what?”
Mischief danced in her eyes like tiny firelights. “Truthfully, I think you should’ve aimed higher.”
“I’m not sure Clytemnestra would have been very pleased with me if I had stabbed her husband in the balls.”
“On the contrary, I think you would have been doing my cousin a favor, and perhaps all of Greece.”
Penelope held my gaze, and though neither of us laughed, I could feel our amusement mingling in the air between us, warming the space.
“May I check your palm now?” she asked.
It seemed the fire and wine had softened my temper, for I found myself obliging without protest. Penelope moved closer to me, and I tried to ignore the shiver tracing my bones as she cupped my hand atop hers, drawing my palm to her face.
“I am going to bandage it.” Before giving me a chance to refuse, Penelope retrieved a clean piece of cloth and began winding it around my palm.
Once she had secured the bandage in place, I murmured a dull, “Thanks.”
I went to pull my hand away, but Penelope’s fingers tightened around mine.
“He should not get away with what he did to you, Melantho,” she whispered.
I sighed. “But he will.”
“My uncle would be furious if he knew—”
“That someone else tried to touch his property?” I huffed a bitter laugh.
“Perhaps if I spoke with him—”
“Penelope.” I tugged my hand free. “Just…don’t. Please. There is no point.”
She gave a shallow nod, biting down on her lip as if having to forcibly contain the words threatening to spill out.
“Make sure this doesn’t get infected,” she said instead, motioning to my palm. “You should see if they have any yarrow in the kitchens. The herb is good for healing. Or perhaps you could ask your father?”
“Perhaps,” I muttered, not willing to admit I never spoke to the man anymore. That was not a conversation I wanted to get into tonight. Or any night for that matter.
“You will need to keep an eye on it,” she warned.
I shrugged, her concern grating on me. “I’ll be fine.”
“It could get infected without proper care. It’s a nasty wound and—”
“I’ve survived worse,” I shot back. “You of all people should know.”
Penelope went deathly still, and I saw the memories rushing through her, the same ones that haunted my dreams night after night.
I could feel them playing out in her mind—my face pressed against the table, the sound of my sobs racking my body, the sheer agony as those tongues of fire devoured my bare back…
I stood abruptly. “I need to leave.”
Penelope rose with me, though her entire demeanor had changed, growing stiff and withdrawn, as if her thoughts had collapsed in on themselves.
“You do not have to,” she managed to say quietly.
But I did.
I had to get away from her, from the insufferable pity in her eyes, from the memories strangling me like Agamemnon’s hand at my throat.
“I want to leave,” I said.
Penelope just nodded, unable to look at me. I hated knowing what version of myself she was seeing in her mind—that weeping, terrified child, covered in her own piss and blood. Was that what she always saw when she looked at me?
I made for the door, but as I moved past Penelope, she grabbed my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. We stood motionless, facing in opposite directions yet so close our shoulders brushed.
I stared at the wall ahead, willing my pulse to settle, forcing those memories down and down and down…
“Melantho.”
How I loathed the sound of my name on her lips and all the unwanted feelings it stirred within me. But I reminded myself this effect of hers was only superficial, like a breeze may stir dead, fallen leaves, making them shift and swirl but never able to bring back to life what has already perished.
And whatever existed between us was long dead.
“I should never have left,” she whispered.
But you did.
I wanted to shout these words at her, to scream and cry and let her know just what her abandonment had done to me. But something had dampened that rage inside me, like rain upon firewood, no longer able to catch light.
So instead, I stared at the wall and said nothing at all.
I heard Penelope swallow before continuing, “I thought I was protecting you by staying away. I was so afraid of you being hurt again…because of me.”
I kept my focus ahead, hating the knot thickening in my throat.
“I am sorry, Melantho.”
How long had I waited to hear those words from her?
A part of me ached to accept them, to reach out across the void between us, as if in doing so I could somehow reach through time and grasp a piece of the girl I had once been, allowing myself to glimpse what it had felt like when the world was warm and safe and kind.
But that world had been a lie. It had never existed; it never would. Not for me anyway.
And though Penelope’s apology had once been all I longed for, I knew now it was not enough, no matter how deeply she meant it or how much I wanted it to be. Those three words could not change what had happened, could not change what I was.
I sensed Penelope waiting for my reply, watching the thoughts battle across my face. I had never been able to mask my emotions, not like her.
“May I be excused now, mistress?” I asked flatly.
I felt Penelope go very still, as if my words had frozen inside her.
“You know you do not have to ask that, not with me.”
I tried to ignore how wounded she sounded as I continued staring at the wall. Waiting.
After a long pause, Penelope finally turned away.
“You may be excused,” she whispered into the shadows.
I nodded once and walked out of the room, forcing myself not to look back.