This was the one gift my isolation had given me—my brother. Ithad been during my first winter serving Laertes that Melanthius had stumbled upon the cottage. He had been seeking shelter from a brewing storm, completely unaware of who dwelled there. When I opened the door, we stared at each other for a long, tense moment. We had not spoken since that terrible argument so long ago.
“Come in,” I said.
When I offered him wine, he shook his head and replied, “Water would be better.”
Though there was so much left unsaid between us, we spent most of that night in silence. He ate the meal I fixed for him and then went to sleep. The next morning, he thanked me and left.
Since then, my brother had visited regularly.
“A wolf got some of the goats the other night,” he told me as he ate. “I asked your Thracian friend to hunt it for me. She’s nasty with a bow, that one.”
I nodded. “I went hunting with her often.”
Melanthius laughed. I had forgotten how infectious the sound was. How much I had missed it.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m just picturingyouholding a weapon. Terrifying stuff.” I nudged his arm, and he grinned before adding, “She misses you, you know.”
A sting of guilt shivered through me. “I know.”
“She said she’d visit again soon.”
Over the past four summers, my friends had visited as regularly as they could. They were the threads that kept me tethered to the world. Without them, it would have been so easy to lose myself in this solitude Laertes had entombed himself within.
“Is there…any other news?” I ventured, trying to keep my voice neutral.
“Of Odysseus? Nah, not since his army was spotted on that witch’s island. That’s the last anyone heard anyway.” He tore off another mouthful of bread. “Penelope probably knows more. I heard she’sbeen sending scouts after him. But she keeps to herself these days, shut away in the palace.”
It hurt even just hearing her name spoken aloud, but I kept my expression blank as I watched the goats idly snuffling around us.
“My guess is Odysseus is already dead and his useless army are stuck without a leader to get them home,” Melanthius continued. “And I bet you Penelope knows. She just isn’t telling anyone.”
“Why do you think someone would do that? Keep a death a secret?”
I sensed Melanthius tensing, not quite meeting my eye. “There’s lots of reasons, I guess.”
“And what was yours?”
“What?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Mama?” I hadn’t dared voice this question before for fear of it shattering the fragile bond we had only just rebuilt. But it had hung over me for so long now, I knew I had to ask Melanthius eventually.
I watched his expression shift, shock melding into shame.
“How long have you known?” he murmured.
“Dolios told me, just before the war ended.”
He glanced away. “I shouldn’t’ve… I didn’t mean to…”
“I just want to knowwhy,” I said as gently as I could.
“You were so lost back then, Mel,” he whispered to the ground. “I thought it’d break you completely if you knew. I told myself I was protecting you, that you’d never find out anyway, so what was the harm?” He gave me a grim smile. “It was a dumb thought. I know that now. I was just young and stupid and scared of losing my sister. But I should’ve told you.”
“Yes, you should’ve.”
“I’m sorry.”
