Her mouth was devastatingly soft as she whispered, “Melantho.”
Nothing in all my life had ever felt as intimate as this, feeling the shape of my name on Penelope’s mouth.
“Again,” I begged.
“Melantho.” It was not a name; it was an ache, aneed.
We stared at each other, all those wild, unspoken feelings burning between us, threatening to set us both alight.
Without thinking, I pressed closer, my body melting into hers as I moved my hands to cup her face, my lips searching for the place where my fingers had just been. I could think of nothing but my desperation to feel her mouth on mine, to touch her and taste her and…
“I…I’m sorry,” Penelope gasped just as my mouth brushed her own.
The words were like a blow to the gut, knocking me back into reality. I blinked, frozen as she pulled away from me, guilt weighing in her eyes.
“We should not… I should not have—”
“Don’t,” I said hoarsely. I couldn’t bear to hear her excuses, to watch her try to remedy my embarrassment. “Please, just…don’t.”
Penelope’s throat bobbed, and I could have sworn I saw a flitterof regret steal across her face, but she turned away before I could be certain.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, quieter now.
It felt as if I had been falling, and my body had just hit the ground with sickening force.
What was I thinking?
What have I done?
“You were right. I’ve had too much wine. How foolish,” I said, jumping to my feet, my entire body burning with humiliation. “I should…go lie down.”
Penelope simply nodded.
She could not even bear to look at me as I fled.
33
I raced up the beach, crashing through the trees.
I did not know where I was heading; all I knew was I had to get away, far away from Penelope, from my shame and that madness she had unleashed within me.
In the distance, a light flickered, guiding me forward like a beckoning hand. I chased after it until the woods finally thinned out, giving way to rolling fields. A giant stone caught my foot, and I nearly went hurtling to my knees. A boundary marker, I realized. I was at the very edge of the palace grounds.
I pressed on and was met with a rich tang in the air and the sound of snuffling creatures settling in for the night. Ahead of me, Eumaeus’s house shone through the dark, warm light spilling from its windows.
It took a few moments for my knocks to be answered.
Eumaeus’s face was soft and drowsy with sleep. His tunic was skewed around his shoulders, as if he had just pulled it on, his hair flattened on one side. He scratched the back of his neck as he regarded me standing on his doorstep in the middle of the night with nothing but the moonlight as my companion.
“Melantho?” he murmured around a yawn. “Is everything all right?”
“Can I come in?”
Something shifted behind his eyes, confusion giving way topoliteness, and then he stepped aside.
“Of course.”
The space was small and sparse, the air permeated with the musky smell of the animals outside. A fire glowed invitingly in the corner, beside which was a table and stools draped in leather hides. In the corner was his pallet bed, the blankets and furs tangled together.
