Chapter 34
“You weren’t in your bed last night.”
I had barely stepped foot in Penelope’s quarters before the accusation speared me.
Stifling a groan, I turned to find Actoris grinning from where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor. Despite having been bathed and brushed, her short hair still stuck out in a tangle of wild spikes around her head.
“How do you know where my bed even is?” I shot back.
“Because mine’s next to yours,” she said smugly. “Penelope made me her ‘handmaid.’ Fanciest title I ever had.”
“And who gave you that?” I gestured at the dagger she twizzled between her fingers.
“Thratta did. Says I can come hunting with you next time.”
“You’re too young to hunt.”
“I’m old enough for a man to pump a baby into me but not old enough to hunt my own food?” She tapped her chin with the flat side of the blade. “Seems dumb.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“Serving drinks in a room of drunk, horny, old men is dangerous, and I was doing that when I was six.”
Defeated, I collapsed in my usual chair by the hearth, massaging my temples. “Just do me a favor and keep away from me when you’re holding that thing.”
Actoris made a few jabbing motions through the air, an unsettling grin split across her face.
“Good morning!” Hippodamia chirped as she swanned into the room, looking as radiant as ever. “Oh gods! Who gave Actoris a knife?”
“Apparently Thratta did,” I replied.
Hippodamia shook her head dramatically. “That Thracian will be the death of us all.”
“And where were you last night?” A soft voice came from behind my chair as two hands landed on my shoulders.
I turned to find the large, dark eyes of Autonoe staring down at me. I dismissed her question with a noncommittal grunt.
“What’s this?” Hippodamia asked with far too much eagerness for my liking.
“Someone disappeared during the celebrations and didn’t come home,” Autonoe told her with a knowing grin. “Care to share with us where you went, Melantho?”
“No.”
“Oh, come on, pleeeeaseee,” Hippodamia whined.
I noticed Actoris was observing us with quietly curious eyes.
“She doesn’t have to tell you if she doesn’t wish to,” Eurynome interjected as she shuffled into the room, looking a little fragile after the previous night’s celebrations.
I gave her an appreciative smile, but Hippodamia cut in, “Um, she mostly certainly does. It’s handmaid rule number one—your secrets are our secrets.”
Autonoe nodded sagely, as if Hippodamia had said something very wise. “She’s right, you know. It’s the rules.”
I could practically hear Eurynome rolling her eyes.
“So go on then. Tell us,” Hippodamia pressed, bracing her hands on both sides of my chair.
“She was with the pig boy.”
I felt the blood drain from my face as we all turned to stare at Actoris, who was tossing the blade between her hands as if it were a toy.
“What?” Hippodamia shrieked.
Autonoe grinned. “Is this true, Melantho?”
“It’s true,” Actoris said.
“How do you know?” Hippodamia frowned.
“She stinks of pigs…and sex.”
I felt my cheeks redden as Hippodamia and Autonoe burst into fits of laughter. The sound of their amusement made Actoris’s own lips twitch, though she tried to fight it.
“Why are you being so loud?” Thratta grumbled as she strode into the room, clutching her head.
“Did someone else indulge too much last night?” Hippodamia giggled.
Thratta only grunted in response.
Hippodamia’s smile widened. “That’s strange, because I distinctly remember you saying Greek wine was for ‘tiny infants.’”
The Thracian clicked her tongue at that. “I do not remember what I did or did not say. Now, what is this laughter? Tell me.”
“We were just discussing Melantho’s nighttime activities,” Hippodamia replied, wiggling her brows.
Gods, I hated her sometimes.
The Thracian cocked her head. “Nighttime activities? What is this ‘nighttime activities’?”
“Fucking,” Actoris said without looking up from her blade.
“Did you give Actoris a knife?” I asked, desperate to divert the conversation.
“Yes.” Thratta shrugged, as if giving the girl a blade was not a severe safety risk to all of Ithaca. “But this is not what I wish to speak of. I wish to speak of the fucking.”
Hippodamia snorted. “I wish to speak of it too.”
“You should wash your mouths out, the lot of you,” Eurynome huffed.
“I think Melantho is the only one who needs to wash her mouth,” Actoris shot back.
Hippodamia let out a howl of laughter, and I caught Actoris trying to hide another delighted smile.
“I should’ve left you in the woods,” I muttered, at which Actoris bared her teeth.
“I told you Eumaeus was handsome,” Eurynome murmured to me with a conspiratorial smile.
Thratta boomed a laugh. “The pig boy?”
“He has always shown me kindness,” Autonoe interjected. “I think Eumaeus is a fine match, Melantho.”
“I agree!” Hippodamia chirped. “So go on then. Give us the details!”
I covered my face, feeling the hotness of my cheeks burn into my palms. “No thanks.”
“Oh, don’t be like that,” Autonoe crooned, toying with my curls. “Your hair is a mess. You must’ve had a good night.”
“Her hair is always mess.”
“Thanks, Thratta,” I muttered, peeking through my hands to see the Thracian woman grinning at me. “Can we move on from this now, please?”
“Absolutely not!” Hippodamia seemed outraged by the suggestion. “You have to at least tell us how it happened…”
Memories seared through my mind—Penelope’s skin bathed in moonlight, the intensity of her eyes, filled with something I could not dare hope to name. The brush of her fingers on my lips. The shape of my name on hers…
I flinched, shaking my head. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“If she doesn’t wish to tell, it means it was very bad,” Thratta deduced, scratching her chin like a wizened oracle. “I am sorry for this, Melantho.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s not true.”
Hippodamia grinned roguishly. “So it was good then?”
“What was good?”
We all turned to see Penelope entering the room with Telemachus at her side.
The sight of her made my insides constrict with a nauseating intensity. Around me, the handmaids shared knowing glances, stifling giggles. I stared at each of them in turn, hoping enough violence was laced into my glare to keep their mouths shut.
“Why does she have a knife?” Telemachus asked, pointing at Actoris.
She grinned. “Jealous, princeling?”
“Mother, can I have a knife?”
Penelope sighed inwardly. “No, Telemachus. Actoris, I appreciate you are new here, but we have a firm ‘no weapons’ rule inside these walls.”
Actoris rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll go outside. Princeling, do you want to be my target practice?”
“All right!” Telemachus chirped, eagerly following Actoris out of the room.
“I’ll supervise,” Eurynome added quickly, and Penelope flashed her an appreciative smile.
Once they had left, Autonoe, Hippodamia, and Thratta began discussing the previous night’s celebrations, mercifully avoiding the topic of Eumaeus.
I tried to listen to their conversation, but my focus was consumed by Penelope.
Though I did not dare look at her, I could still feel her as she moved across the room, her presence tingling over my skin like a phantom breeze.
When I could bear it no longer, I slipped away to the balcony, keen to let the crisp morning air chill the fever inside me. I closed my eyes, steadying my breathing in time with the sleepy hush of the waves below.
“Why do I feel as if I am missing something?”
My heart stumbled at the sound of Penelope’s voice.
“What?” I feigned ignorance as she came and stood at my side.
“The others are giggling about something, but they won’t admit what. Thratta keeps making snorting sounds, like a pig.”
I’m going to kill her. “It’s nothing. Trust me.”
We kept our focus ahead, trying to ignore that heavy thing writhing between us. When I glanced down, I saw Penelope’s nail beds were red and raw.
I heard her draw in a breath then, and my entire body braced in anticipation of her next words.
“Last night…” she began.
“I don’t know what came over me,” I cut in quickly. “I was…not myself. It was the wine—that was all. We can just forget it. Please.”
Penelope was quiet for a painfully long moment. Still, she would not look at me.
“I’m sorry,” I added.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” There was a strange intensity to her voice, one that made the words tremble slightly. “You did nothing wrong. So do not apologize.”
“Oh good! You told her!” Hippodamia exclaimed as she appeared beside us. “I was just telling Melantho that Eumaeus is a fine choice. Don’t you think, Penelope?”
“Hippodamia,” I hissed.
“What? I’m serious!” She elbowed me with a wink. “I’m jealous. I wish I’d spent the night with a handsome swineherd rather than listening to Thratta snoring.”
Dread hit me like a rush of icy water. I watched Penelope’s face change, that horrible shift of understanding. Finally, she met my gaze, and I felt a strange stab of guilt low in my belly.
Hippodamia glanced between us, eyes widening. “Oh! I thought… Oh gods, you hadn’t told her, had you?”
I smiled tightly. “No.”
“Oh, Mel! You don’t have to look so embarrassed!” she said, grabbing my arm. “I’m sure Penelope agrees that you and Eumaeus make a great pair. Don’t you, Penelope?”
“Please, just stop. Stop talking,” I said as calmly as I could.
Hippodamia winced, seeming to finally register the stifling awkwardness in the air. “Sorry. I should… I’ll just…”
She quickly retreated inside, leaving Penelope and me alone once again. She was staring at the horizon now, and I could sense the thoughts shifting behind her eyes. I ached to know just one, to be able to have a glimpse into that beautiful, brilliant mind of hers.
“Never share a secret with Hippodamia,” I said in an attempt to ease the tension.
“I could have told you that.” Penelope shot me an arched brow, though her tone lacked its usual playfulness.
Silence descended once more, and I longed to disappear within its depths.
“So…Eumaeus?”
I grimaced. “It’s nothing.”
“It does not sound that way.” There was a slight edge to her words, one I had not heard before. “Only…last night you said you were not interested in him.”
“I didn’t mean anything I said last night.”
Penelope nodded. “I see.”
Guilt paced inside me, strange and heavy. But why should I feel guilty over this? Her heart was not mine to betray. It never would be.
“I’m pleased for you,” she suddenly said.
“You…are?” I asked, unsure why her words invited a brush of sadness against my heart.
“Yes. Hippodamia is right. Eumaeus is a good man. He will make a fine companion.”
“I wouldn’t call him that.”
Penelope tilted her head. “Why not?”
“I don’t think I want a…companion.”
She considered my words, and I noticed she was shredding the raw skin around her nail beds. A part of me wanted to reach out and still her anxious fidgeting, but I pushed the urge away.
“I think it would be good for you…to have someone,” she said carefully. “You should at least consider it.”
I shrugged, finding a sudden fascination in the ground. If only it would swallow me down into the halls of Hades, I would welcome the God of Death with open arms if it let me escape this excruciating moment.
“Melantho?”
I glanced up. “Penelope?”
Our names, once so innocent on our lips, now had a torturous effect. I was certain Penelope felt it too; I could see the memories flaring behind her eyes.
She looked away. “I’m happy for you, truly. You deserve to have somebody who will treat you well. Eumaeus is the right person for you.”
“Thank you,” I said, forcing myself to smile as her words hardened inside me like ice.