She turned to me, and the sight of her smile was like that first flare of sunrise, chasing away the darkness.
“Good morning,” she replied.
We stared at each other, giddily shy in the face of everything we had shared the night before. I could hardly comprehend it and all that it meant. A part of me was afraid to, as if trying to make sense of this moment would risk shattering it completely.
“You snore when you sleep,” Penelope said, breaking the tension.
“I do not.”
“It’s a sweet snore. You had the same one when we were children.”
“Then why did you never mention it back then?” I challenged, folding my arms.
“Because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to sleep in my chamber if I told you.”
The admission made my heart swell.
“I still would have,” I murmured.
Her smile widened at that, but then I saw the corners of it catch on the edges of a thought. She turned to the window again, a quietness settling around her as she watched dawn continue to kiss the skies awake.
“What is it?” I asked.
She shook her head. “It is still early. You should get more rest.”
Wrapping myself in the pelts strewn over her bed, I padded across to where she sat. Carefully, I took her hand in mine, tracing the shredded skin around her nail beds.
“What is it?” I asked, gentler this time. When she did not immediately reply, I whispered, “Do you…regret it?”
“No.” She held my gaze. “Never.”
“But you feel guilty?”
She said nothing, though I could see the answer weighing in her eyes. I brought her fingers to my lips, planting a kiss against them.
“You know what men are like at war,” I murmured into her palm. “He will have taken concubines, captive women to warm his bed. Why does he deserve your loyalty when he would not give it in return?”
“Because the same rules do not govern husbands as they do wives.” She turned her face to the drizzling skies. “And I am still his wife.”
“Andheis still the husband who left you alone for ten summers,” I countered, trying to ignore the sting of her words.
“It was not his choice to go.”
“But it was his choice to stay, to continue fighting in a futile war to feed another man’s ego.” My tone was harsher than I intended, so I kissed her hand again to soften my delivery. “He does not deserve your guilt.”
“It is not guilt.”
“Then what is it?”
Her hand fell away. “There are risks in what we are doing.”
“I know.”
“If anyone saw us—”
“Nobody saw us, Penelope.”
“You know Eurycleia patrols this palace like a hawk. What if she walked in now and saw you?”
