“You need to stop looking at me like that. It is very distracting.”
“Youare very distracting, my queen,” I shot back quietly.
She laughed and I savored the sound, already counting down the seconds to when Nyx would embrace the world and I could embrace mine.
We found a man waiting for us in the throne room, leaning against a pillar with graceful boredom. I walked beside Penelope as she entered, looking regal in her light blue gown, hair woven into a coronet around her head. The bright tinkling of her bracelets was the only sound in the lofty space.
I always found something vaguely somber about this room andthe empty throne set atop the dais, looking more like a tombstone than a sign of power.
Penelope never sat on that throne, nor did she ascend the dais. She knew not to wield her power with the same reckless pride as Clytemnestra had in Mycenae. Instead, Penelope walked directly to where the stranger lounged, inspecting his nails.
There was something about the man I immediately disliked; the arrogance oozed from him like sweat.
“You requested an audience with me?” Penelope spoke first, voice firm yet courteous.
The man pushed off the pillar, closing the distance between us with two swaggering steps. His eyes flicked from Penelope to me, a smile creeping across his lips.
He appeared younger than us, perhaps only just past twenty summers. From his expensively dyed robes and well-trimmed beard, I could tell he was someone of wealth. Not royalty but a nobleman perhaps.
“Queen Penelope.”
I hated the way he said her name, dragging it out like a lover’s caress, so intimate and entitled.
“It is my deepest pleasure to finally meet you.”
He bowed low, his chestnut curls bouncing with the motion. Beside me, I could tell Penelope was as unimpressed by the stranger as I was, yet she feigned polite interest.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” the man continued, his words oily, slipping together too easily. “My name is Eurymachus, son of Polybus. I hail from nearby Same. I have been hoping to meet with you for some time, my queen.”
“And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“I wish to put myself forward as a candidate.”
Penelope’s eyes cut up and down him, quietly assessing. “A candidate?”
The man’s smile widened. “To claim your hand, of course. To takeyou as my wife.”
“My mistress is already a wife,” I snapped.
The man, Eurymachus, shifted his attention to me.
“What a sharp tongue you have,” he said, gaze dipping over my body appreciatively.
“Melantho speaks true,” Penelope said evenly. “I am already married, Eurymachus. All of Greece knows this.”
Eurymachus glanced toward the throne, its emptiness suddenly seeming magnified, swallowing up the whole room.
“From what I hear, you are a widow,” he said.
“Careful how you speak to my queen.”
“Melantho.” Penelope’s eyes met mine, and I read the unspoken words gleaming there:He is not worth it.
“I did not mean to offend.” Eurymachus inclined his head. “I have merely heard word that Odysseus is dead. Is this not the case?”
“No body has been found. Thus, it is believed my husband is alive.”
“I see.” He tapped his chin theatrically. “Then why, may I ask, has it taken the king of Ithaca seven summers to return to his kingdom?”
