Everyone turned to me.
“That’s wonderful news, Melantho,” Eurynome said, moving closer to squeeze my arm. “Congratulations.”
“Is this why you’ve been drinking like a fish since you got back?” Actoris snickered.
I smirked at her and, with deliberate slowness, drained my cup.
“Well?” Hippodamia urged. “What do you have to say, Mel?”
“We’re not marrying,” I muttered.
Confusion rippled between the women.
“But…Penelope told me she had given her approval,” Hippodamia said.
“She did, and I refused him.”
“What?” Hippodamia gasped. “Why?”
I shrugged, moving to refill my cup. My limbs felt clumsy, and I chuckled as the wine slopped over the floor. Eurynome quickly steadied my hands before taking the jug from me.
“I don’t understand,” Hippodamia pressed. “Eumaeus is such a lovely man—”
“Why don’t you marry him then? He’s free for the taking now.”
Hippodamia seemed unsettled by my suggestion, glancing warily to Autonoë, who said, “Are you…all right, Melantho?”
I flashed my teeth. “Never better.”
“Marriage,pah.” Thratta made a point of spitting in the fire. “Marriage is how they control us.”
“I’d slit my own throat before I got married,” Actoris muttered.
“But what if the marriage were for love?” Hippodamia asked, settling herself on the rug.
“Love.” Thratta glanced to Actoris, who mirrored her smirk. “It is a myth.”
“That’s not true!” Hippodamia shot back, cheeks reddening.
“Looks like Hip has another crush.” Actoris grinned viciously.
“I do not!” Hippodamia folded her arms, visibly flustered. “You don’t have to be in love to believe in it. Ah, Penelope!Youwill agree with me, won’t you?”
Every inch of my body stiffened, as if a cord had been pulled taut inside me. The others appeared unchanged, as if Penelope’s presence had not just tilted the entire axis of the room.
Over the years, I had perfected the art of watching Penelope out of the corner of my eye, stealing fleeting glances. But tonight, I did notcare for subtlety. I stared at her unashamedly as she took her usual seat by the fire. She must have felt the weight of my gaze, but she ignored it as she asked, “Agree with what, Hippodamia?”
“That you can marry for love.”
Penelope’s smile was calm, measured. Of course it was.
“It is unusual, I’ll admit. Marriage is primarily a business transaction between men. But that is not to say there cannot be mutual affection, given time.”
“Is that what happened with you and Odysseus?”
My vision was too hazy to decipher Penelope’s expression.
“We did not have much time, sadly,” she said.
