This was the culture Penelope had cultivated within the safety of the palace, one where slaves worked for the mutual benefit ofeveryone, not the few royals perched at the top. We all pitched in, and we all reaped the rewards.
As we passed, the group on the lawn waved.
“She will be the fourth slave you’ve brought home this summer,” Penelope said as she raised a hand in greeting.
I bit my lip. “I know you’re worried about overcrowding…”
“I’m handling it.”
My brows rose. “You are?”
“We have already begun work on building more homes. There’s so much vacant land Laertes was just sitting on.” Penelope shook her head despairingly. “The homes should be ready by harvest time. Then we will start moving people in and freeing up space in the palace for new additions… What? What’s that look for?”
My smile spread so wide it hurt. “Nothing. I just…I think that’s an excellent idea.”
“Of course it is.Allmy ideas are,” she teased as we cut left down a shadowy corridor. “So what is the name of our newest handmaid?”
“You’ll truly take her as a handmaid?”
“If you think she’s suitable, then why wouldn’t I?”
“I didn’t realize the queen of Ithaca was so easily swayed.”
Penelope laughed. “Only by you, Melantho.”
Her words were light and playful, yet they still caught in my chest, causing my heartbeat to stumble. My feet followed suit, tripping over a step. Penelope shot out a hand to steady me, and my entire body stiffened beneath her touch. After so many summers at her side, one would have thought I’d be numb to Penelope’s effect by now.
If she noticed my sudden rigidity, Penelope did not comment; instead, she lifted her hand to my hair. For a tense moment, I thought she was going to cup my face, and I felt an unbearable warmth rush into my cheeks. But she merely plucked a twig from one of my curls, eyebrow raised in silent question.
“We were hunting in the woods,” I said. “Telemachus made his first kill!”
“I cannot fathom how he is already old enough to be wielding a weapon.” Penelope sighed, twirling the twig between her fingers. “Will you bring our new handmaid to our quarters? I would like to meet her.”
Our quarters.I always loved it when she called them that.
Before I could reply, we heard a clatter of sandals stumbling behind us. Penelope stepped away from me instantly, that queenly veneer falling like a veil across her features as Mentor came careeningdown the hallway.
I hadn’t known the old man could move so fast.
“My queen,” he gasped, doubling over to catch his breath. “I apologize…for…the urgency…”
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“News…from Troy.”
Penelope stilled. “What news?”
“Achilles has returned to battle. Prince Hector of Troy is dead.”
***
That night, the palace came alive with celebrations.
We crowded together in the banquet hall, the atmosphere as intoxicating as the wine flowing freely between us. Once, this room would have been reserved for Odysseus’s esteemed guests, but these days, it was ours to enjoy as we wished.
As I filled my cup, I let my gaze drift across the revelry. Autonoë was playing the lyre Penelope had gifted her a few summers back, her sweet voice weaving effortlessly through the crowd. I could hear Hippodamia’s tinkling laugh as she recounted a story to a small crowd of besotted stable boys. They flocked to her like moths to a flame, drunk on her light. Thratta was seated with Actoris at one of the long wooden tables, playing some kind of ridiculous game that involved stabbing a blade between their splayed-out fingers while Telemachus watched, utterly mesmerized. I would have despaired at the combination of wine and weapons, but my concern was bridled by the sheer delight on Actoris’s face. She looked like a different person from the tiny ghost we had found in the woods that morning.
I even caught the cantankerous old Eurycleiaalmostsmiling, though she would have certainly denied such an accusation. Mercifully, the old maid kept to herself these days, grumbling through the palace about Ithaca’s “loss of order.”
