Chapter 51
I found Eurymachus in the banquet hall.
Despite it being the early hours of the morning, the suitors’ revelry showed no sign of waning.
Flies feasted on leftover food littered across the tables, the stench of rotting meat and fish permeating the air. Penelope rarely permitted any of the slaves to step foot in there, so the food was often left out for days on end.
The suitors were busy redistributing their silver pieces. Beneath my feet, fresh blood gleamed across the stone floor. I wondered if any of it was my brother’s. Despite all my pleading, Melanthius still participated in the horrific fights the suitors orchestrated.
As usual, Eurymachus was seated at the head of the table, like a king among his subjects. He picked at the plate of food before him, his eyes glazed with wine and boredom. When he noticed me approaching, his gaze sharpened, lips coiling into a predatory grin.
“Well, well, well, to what do we owe this pleasure?” he asked loudly. “Penelope’s handmaids are usually kept locked away like pretty little trinkets.”
I shrugged. “Perhaps I have grown bored of being treated as such.”
Eurymachus shared a glance with the men around him. “Is that so?”
“Pretty little trinkets are not meant to be hidden away after all. They are meant to be admired, are they not?” I purred, moving closer.
“Is that what you want? To be admired?” one of the other suitors asked me.
I smiled vapidly at him. “Doesn’t every woman?”
Eurymachus tossed a chicken bone to one of the hunting dogs skulking in the shadows. “And what would your mistress make of this little visit?”
“Should I care?”
Suspicion sharpened his smile. “Seems like quite the change of heart from Penelope’s most treasured handmaid.”
“Why should I serve a queen who will not serve her kingdom?” I shot back. “Ithaca needs a king. Penelope is standing in the way of that.”
“I will drink to that,” Eurymachus said, taking a slow gulp of wine. His eyes held mine over the rim of his cup, filled with a dark, intimate promise.
When he set the cup down, I dutifully moved to refill it.
I then perched myself in his lap as I brought the replenished wine to his lips.
He drank deeply, his gaze never leaving my face.
When a dribble escaped down his chin, I caught it with a finger and licked the residue.
Eurymachus’s eyes heated, and I smiled before downing the rest of his wine myself.
“If I remember correctly, you still owe me,” Eurymachus hissed into my ear.
“Is that so?”
His hands moved to grip my waist, fingers digging greedily into my flesh. It took every ounce of self-control not to cringe at his touch. But I had worn disgust as desire for years in Sparta; it was a mask I knew well.
“You once promised yourself to me, yet you never fulfilled your word.” His breath was unpleasantly hot against my skin. “Three summers I’ve waited.”
“Perhaps it’s time we rectify that,” I mused.
“Perhaps you’ve waited too long. Perhaps I’ve no interest in old goods,” he sneered. “You’re what, now? Thirty summers? More?”
“Thirty-six summers. And if you do not value experience, then I suppose that is your loss.” I shrugged and began to rise, but Eurymachus’s arm fastened around my waist, holding me against him.
“What of Penelope?”
I ignored the stab in my chest. “What of her?”
“She didn’t want us…meddling with her handmaids.”
I raised a brow. “Who says she has to know?”
Eurymachus grinned before pushing us both to our feet. He locked his hand around my wrist, claiming me.
“Come,” he barked.
For the briefest moment, my body stiffened, muscles tightening with instinctive fear.
Be brave. My mother’s voice found me.
I would. For Penelope. For Telemachus. For my friends.
I had to be.
I could not protect them with swords or strength or wealth, but this…this was a weapon I knew how to wield.
So I smiled and nodded. “Lead the way.”
***
Unsurprisingly, Eurymachus had claimed the largest guest chamber.
I drew in a steadying breath as I walked inside. To my left was a large bed, its furs and blankets tangled in an angry heap. To my right was a table laden with dirty plates and empty wine jugs, fat flies buzzing lazily between them.
“Penelope never sends slaves to clean,” Eurymachus said as he followed my gaze. “The bitch expects us to live in our filth.”
“She does not treat you with the respect you deserve,” I replied as Eurymachus kicked off his sandals. “Shall I fetch you some wine?”
I took his grunt as a yes and approached the table.
“If Queen Penelope were your wife, I’m sure you would teach her to behave,” I said as I chose one of the ornate jugs and began filling a cup.
“She has spent too long without the guidance of a man,” Eurymachus agreed. “It has made her obstinate and arrogant.”
As he spoke, I slipped the small vial of Penelope’s sleeping draught from my gown and tipped the contents into the cup. It would not be enough to send Eurymachus straight to sleep, but it should make him drowsy, enhancing the effects of the copious amounts of wine he had already consumed.
I turned back to him with a smile.
“Here, my lord.” Slinking forward, I placed the laced wine into his waiting hand.
Eurymachus brought the cup to his lips, and my blood crackled with fear as I watched him hesitate, seeming to sniff the contents.
“Is it not to your liking?” I asked, feigning indifference.
Instead of replying, Eurymachus tipped back his head, downing the wine in two large gulps. Relief flooded through me, sharp and short-lived.
“Take your gown off.”
“Do you not wish to talk a little, my lord?” I purred. “I am sure you have many interesting tales to tell.”
Eurymachus set his empty cup aside. “I will not repeat myself, slave.”
My smile stiffened. I was not naive enough to believe the sleeping potion would let me avoid the inevitable. I had known the price I would have to pay the moment I walked into the banquet hall.
For Penelope, I reminded myself.
For Telemachus, Skaris, Hippodamia, Autonoe, Actoris, Eurynome…
For every slave beneath this roof.
Slowly, I unclasped the fastenings at my shoulders, letting my gown fall to the floor.
Eurymachus stared at me, his tongue running slowly over his wine-stained teeth.
Guilt shifted inside me. It felt so wrong to offer my body up to someone else.
This body that Penelope had blessed with so much care and affection.
This flesh was ours, sanctified by our love, and now here I was baring it to another…
You’re doing this for her.
“On the bed.”
I obeyed, forcing myself to shut out all thoughts of Penelope. I pushed her far, far away to a place this ugliness could never reach.
I felt Eurymachus behind me then, his body hot against my spine. He grabbed the back of my neck and pushed me down onto the furs. For a moment, I just lay there, frozen. It was as if my soul were seeping out, leaving an empty vessel behind.
A part of me wanted to stay like this, dead beneath his touch, until it was all over.
No. Somewhere, in the hollow depths of me, a spark ignited. Not like this.
I would not lie like a vacant corpse beneath him, letting him abuse my body in whatever ways he pleased. If I were to stoop to such a low as sharing Eurymachus’s bed, I would do it on my terms.
I was the master of his desire. His lust was mine to wield.
Eurymachus reached a hand up to brush my lips. I bit down on his fingers, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to make him jolt with surprise. I took the opening, utilizing all Skaris’s training to spin myself around, using Eurymachus’s weight against him to knock him sideways.
He huffed a delighted laugh as I straddled him. “I knew you had a bite to you. Such a vicious little creature.”
“I want to look upon the future king of Ithaca as I pleasure him,” I said, reaching beneath his robes.
“Future king.” Eurymachus’s breathing hitched as I took him in my palm. “I like the sound of that.”
“That is what you shall be, is it not?” I goaded as I worked him, encouraging a shivering gasp of pleasure. I could instantly feel his control unraveling as his pitiful lust took over. “Well? Will you be king?”
“Yes.” He gulped down the word.
I stared at his face twisting with desire, longing to claw it off.
“Say it. Say you will be king,” I demanded, quickening my rhythm.
“I will be king,” he panted, his eyes rolling back in his head.
“And you will sit upon Ithaca’s throne.”
“I will.”
“And you will rule this land.”
“Yes,” he cried out. “Gods, yes.”
“Tell me when. Tell me when I can kneel at your feet.”
“Soon.”
My grip tightened, making his entire body spasm. “When?”
“When—” The words caught in a groan.
“When?”
“When I kill Telemachus.”
I faltered, just a momentary break in rhythm, but it was enough to cut through Eurymachus’s lustful haze. Before I could even register what was happening, his hand was in my hair, pulling my head back with sickening force.
“Did she send you?” he snarled. His free hand shot beneath the pillows, pulling out a concealed dagger. “She sent her whore to seduce me. Is that it?”
“Penelope knows nothing of this,” I gasped, hot fire shooting over my scalp as Eurymachus’s grip tightened. “I have no loyalty to her. Not anymore. I swear it.”
He pulled my face down to his, voice lethally quiet as he hissed, “Prove it. Convince me, and maybe I will let you walk out of this room alive.”
As I felt the sting of cold metal against my throat, a horrific vision flashed in my mind—Penelope finding my naked corpse in his bed, my useless soul floating beside her, trying desperately to explain: It is not what it looks like.
No. I refused to die like this, to have Eurymachus’s face be the last I saw, to have his hands be the last to touch me.
An idea frantically clawed its way through the fog of my fear, and I knew that to survive this night, my betrayal would have to cut even deeper.
“The shroud is a lie.”
Eurymachus’s grip loosened, just a fraction. “What?”
“The funeral shroud for Laertes. Penelope has no intention of finishing it. She unpicks it each night. She forces us to help her.” I could feel my treachery scalding me from the inside, but stronger still was my determination, forcing me onward. “She has been tricking you. All of you.”
Eurymachus let go of my hair, and I scrambled off him, retreating to the edge of the bed.
“That fucking bitch,” he snarled, sitting upright. The movement was a little woozy, and I felt a flicker of fragile hope in my chest.
“Do you see? I can help you,” I pressed. “We can work together.”
“I’ll kill her,” Eurymachus seethed. “I’ll kill her for thinking she can outsmart me—”
“Why kill her when you could own her?” I countered. “When you are king, she will be your subservient wife. Is that not more satisfying? To have that cunning mind bend to your will.”
He considered my words, head lolling slightly. He blinked, pressing a flat palm against the bed to steady himself.
“Ithaca deserves a great king. A valiant, cunning, powerful king.” My words were cracked and desperate, but I could see them slipping behind Eurymachus’s bloodlust, igniting his ego. “That is the king I wish to serve, and I will do anything to make it so.”
His gaze lifted to mine, eyes a little unfocused. “Tell me why I should trust you.”
“I have just betrayed my queen by telling you the truth of the shroud. Is that not proof enough?”
He said nothing for an excruciatingly long moment. I glanced down at the blade still clasped in his hand. One mistake and he could slit my throat in seconds…
But I would not retreat now, not when I was so close to the truth.
“I can help you,” I assured him, my voice steadying. “But only if you let me. I am no use to you if I am kept in the dark.”
Slowly, Eurymachus leaned forward, angling his dagger toward my neck.
“I know what you really are, slave,” he whispered, the words thick and sluggish on his tongue. “You are a rat.”
He dragged the tip of the blade over my collarbone, watching my chest rise and fall with each panicked breath.
“But I cannot tell if you are my rat or hers,” he continued with an indolent smile.
“I am yours,” I insisted.
He pulled away, leaning back heavily against the bed frame.
“Shall I tell you my secrets then, little rat?” He laughed drunkenly, though I knew it was not the wine that had loosened his mood so. “Would you like that?”
“I would like to assist you,” I replied carefully.
“Hmm. Well, there is something you can do for me.” Eurymachus reached for his wine as he spoke, then, finding it empty, he launched the cup across the room. I tried not to flinch.
“I would be honored.”
Instead of continuing, he pushed off the bed with an incoherent grumble and staggered over to the table.
I watched silently as he retrieved another cup and proceeded to fill it, spilling a lot of wine in the process.
He knocked back the cup, then a second, streaks of crimson dribbling down his chin.
“Tell me what I can do for you, my lord,” I prompted cautiously.
Eurymachus wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “In three days’ time, I need you to ensure Penelope does not leave her quarters. That is all. Very simple, yes?”
“Telemachus is due to return then,” I breathed, suddenly feeling as unsteady as Eurymachus looked. “That’s it. That’s when you’re going to kill him.”
“Me? I would not dream of doing such a thing.” Eurymachus waved his blade between us, words tumbling together.
“But the seas can be a treacherous place, darling. Did you know there has been a recent increase in pirate attacks around these isles? Nasty business. Ithaca would be an ideal spot for an ambush…or so I’m told. ”
Blood roared in my ears. “How can you be so certain they will attack?”
Eurymachus snorted. “Because I paid the men enough to ensure they do a thorough job. They’ll be spending the next few nights at the harbor, eagerly awaiting our prince’s return.”
Somehow, I managed to return his vile smile.
“A genius plan,” I said, sweat coating my palms. “Ithaca will believe it was a tragic, unmotivated attack. Nobody will trace it back to you. Your hands will remain clean.”
He strode toward me then and grabbed my neck, pulling my face to his.
“And once Telemachus is dead,” he hissed against my mouth, “I will take Penelope as my wife.”
“And if she refuses?”
Eurymachus’s smile widened. “Then she will join her son in the Underworld.”