Chapter 37
“I have something I need to tell you.”
I was sitting beside Eumaeus in his home, fumbling over my words.
Two days ago, when I had awoken alone in Penelope’s chamber, I had been struck with a wild torrent of questions and doubts. Yet amid that chaos, there was one certainty that cut through with startling clarity—I had to end things with Eumaeus.
But now, faced with his kind gaze and intolerably sweet attentiveness, I found myself floundering. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to dive into the speech I had spent the past days meticulously rehearsing.
“Eumaeus, I—”
“I have something I wish to say too,” he cut in. “If I may go first?”
I felt my plan unraveling as Eumaeus took my hands in his. His palms were clammy, fingers trembling slightly. He was nervous.
A flicker of hope struck inside me. What if he wished to end things also?
“Melantho.” He drew in a breath, steadying himself. “I wish to take you as my wife.”
I stared at him, uncomprehending. “W-what?”
His smile was heartbreakingly tentative. “I wish to take you as my wife. You can live here, with me. We could start a family together if the gods will it. I believe we could make each other very happy.”
The cold claws of guilt sank into my chest, stealing my breath.
“Slaves aren’t allowed to marry,” I said quickly.
“Not without permission, no.” Eumaeus nodded. “But Mistress Penelope has given us her blessing.”
Those claws turned to shards of ice beneath my skin. “She what?”
“In the absence of Master Odysseus and Master Laertes, I asked for Mistress Penelope’s permission to take you as my bride, and she gave it. Melantho…what is the matter? This is good news, is it not?”
“When did you ask her?” I demanded.
“Yesterday.”
I rose from my seat. “What did she say? What were Penelope’s exact words?”
Eumaeus stiffened, surprised by the sharpness in my tone. “She said she was very happy for us. That I was the right person for you.”
His words were like a blow to the gut, the impact so tangible I almost doubled over.
“The right person,” I echoed.
Eumaeus was staring up at me with those sickeningly genuine eyes. “So…what do you say?”
“What?”
He laughed a little self-consciously. “To becoming my wife. What do you think?”
“I think…I…I need to speak to Penelope.”
Confusion creased between Eumaeus’s brows, his hands slipping from mine. “Can it not wait? Melantho—”
“I need to speak to her,” I repeated, staggering away from him.
“But…why? She has given her permission. What more do we need from her?”
I wrenched open the door to his home, gulping desperately at the sea air.
“I need to hear her say those words.”
***
I found Penelope in her bedchamber.
She was pacing on the rug, as she often did when she was chased by thoughts. Her hair was unbound, whispering around her narrow shoulders in waves of onyx. Gray morning light spilled into the room, painting the space in a somber atmosphere.
When Penelope saw me, she seemed to stiffen. I had barely seen her since that night I had shared her bed. I had blamed this distance on her queenly duties, unable to face the alternative. But I could no longer hide from the truth.
She had been avoiding me.
“You gave him your permission,” I spat as I stormed inside.
Penelope’s chest swelled as she drew in a long breath. “I assume you are speaking of Eumaeus’s marriage proposal.”
“Of course I am.”
“Then I suppose congratulations are in order.”
“Don’t give me that.”
Penelope stiffened beneath my tone. “You’re upset. Tell me why.”
“No. You tell me why you gave him your permission.”
“I told Eumaeus he had my permission to ask, but it would ultimately be your decision.”
“And you said he was the ‘right person’ for me.”
“I’m not sure if those were my exact words, but I said something to that effect. Yes.”
Her calmness only fed the rage burning inside me. “And you really believe that?”
She stared at me for a long moment, and I saw something flicker behind that mask she wore too well, a glimpse of the emotions she would never spill. Not even for me.
“I think you should consider his offer,” she said evenly. “Eumaeus is a good man, and he will—”
“That’s not what I’m asking.” I pushed closer. “Do you truly believe that he is the right person for me?”
“I think he is a good match.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Her throat bobbed as she glanced away. “Melantho, I know it has been a difficult few days for you. The news of your mother has—”
“Don’t,” I snarled. “Don’t you dare use her as a defense.”
Penelope’s eyes struck against mine, though her voice remained steady as she said, “I thought this was what you wanted.”
“You know it’s not.” I stepped closer again so our chests were almost touching. “And you know why it’s not.”
Penelope’s breathing hitched, a small fissure in that infuriating composure.
“I’m afraid I do not understand your meaning.”
Her words splintered inside me, and I turned on my heel, storming toward the door.
She chased me instantly. “Melantho, wait—”
“No. I’m done.”
“Done? With what?”
“With this.” I spun to face her, waving my hand between us. “With whatever this thing is that we keep pretending doesn’t exist.”
She recoiled as if I had struck her.
“We are friends.” She said it like a plea.
“Friends?” I laughed, the sound twisting bitterly in my throat. “Look me in the eyes and tell me what exists between us is simply friendship. Tell me you act the same with me as you do with Hippodamia or Autonoe or Thratta. Do you wish to kiss them also?”
“Melantho, please. Don’t.” Her eyes were bright with something like desperation. Or was it fear?
“Go on. Tell me.”
“Melantho—”
“Do it!” I was shouting now, traitorous tears burning behind my eyes, threatening to spill. “Tell me I’m crazy for ever thinking there was something more between us. I must be, right? If you have no idea what I’m talking about.”
“Melantho.”
I hated the way she said my name, filled with such regret.
I glared up at her, shame and anger and confusion and love all raging inside me, coalescing into something ugly and desperate.
“Just say it. Tell me I’m delusional.”
Penelope’s silence was a heavy, unbearable thing, and I wanted to drown within its depths.
“You are not delusional, Melantho,” she finally whispered. “But you should marry Eumaeus.”
I blinked, vision blurring. “Why?”
Penelope eyes grew horribly distant, shifting away from mine, disappearing to a place I could never reach.
“Because I will never be yours, Melantho.”
Her words speared through me. The pain was so visceral I glanced down at my chest, as if I would actually see a wound opening there, spilling all that poisonous love and hope from my body.
“Melantho—” Penelope sounded pained, as if her heart were the one breaking.
I shook my head, retreating a step, then another.
“Wait—”
I turned and walked away.
And Penelope let me go.