“They are monsters.”
“Monstersyousaid you would marry.”
Penelope nodded. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“I had no choice.”
“No choice?” I spluttered. “You should have just let him have me. You should have—”
“Don’t ever say that,” she snapped. “Don’t you ever sacrifice yourself like that. Not for me. Not for anyone. Do you understand?”
“You cannot tell me not to sacrifice myself whenyouhave done exactly that,” I threw back, fighting to keep my voice lowered. “It would have been one night, and now you’ve damned your entire future!”
She kissed me again as if she could not stop herself, her lips soft and wild against mine, stilling my rage.
“Penelope.” Her name was somewhere between a gasp and an ache. “I cannot let you do this—”
“I do not plan on marrying any of them.” Her words were hot in my mouth.
“But you said—”
She drew back, eyes ablaze. “I will not hand Ithaca over to any of those pigs. The throne belongs to my son, and I will see no other sit upon it.”
I had never seen her like this before, burning with such pure, naked rage. I cupped her cheek, in awe of the power radiating from her.
“You have a plan,” I whispered.
Penelope’s smile was slow and beautifully fierce. “Of course I do.”
***
“A funeral shroud?” Autonoë repeated, doubt edging her voice.
“Yes.” Penelope nodded. “A funeral shroud.”
We were gathered in Penelope’s quarters, settled into our usual places around the hearth. Hippodamia was draped across Autonoë’s lap, surrounded by blankets and cushions, while Thratta lounged inthe chair next to mine with Actoris seated cross-legged at our feet. Eurynome was nestled into the softest seat nearest the fire, with Penelope at her side.
“I’m lost,” Hippodamia admitted. “How is a funeral shroud going to help us stop the suitors?”
“Are you going to smother them to death with it?” Actoris snickered.
Thratta’s hand shot up. “I volunteer to do the smothering.”
“There’s going to benosmothering,” I said.
Thratta’s face fell along with her hand.
“What about strangling?” Actoris grinned, grabbing one of the blankets and wrapping it around her throat. She made a dramatic choking sound, sticking out her tongue. “I think that could work.”
I yanked the blanket from her. “Now you’re just being foolish.”
“Melantho is right.” Thratta nodded sagely. “Rope would be much better for strangling.”
“We’re strangling them with rope?” Hippodamia squeaked.
Eurynome shivered beneath her fur pelts. “This all sounds a little too violent for me.”
