“I saw her too,” I said.
“I tried to make her tell me who did it, but she would not speak a word. She seemed…ashamed.” Her voice caught.
“They are getting worse,” I murmured.
Penelope continued staring into nothingness, her face seeming to cradle every shadow in the room.
“If I were a man, I could have ended this years ago. I could have protected them. I could have protectedyou.”
“Penelope—”
“Instead, I am cursed to do nothing.” She gripped the sheets, her hands balling into fists. “I am forced to drown in my own uselessness.”
“You are doing your best.”
“It is not enough, Melantho. I am not enough.”
Her voice was eerily empty, as if each word had been hollowed out. It was profoundly disturbing, like waking to find your home stripped bare, the well-known walls now barren and strange.
“Please,” I choked out. “Don’t say that, Penelope.”
“Three summers,” she murmured. “Three summers and nothing has changed. They have only grown worse.”
“What if we think of a new plan? A new way to drive them out?”
She said nothing, and that unnerved me more than any words ever could. The Penelope I knew was forever eager to discuss an idea, always one step ahead of her opponents.
“Penelope?”
“Not tonight,” she whispered.
I nestled in closer and began kissing her neck, soft and slow. I wanted to distract her, to give her a release from the prison of her mind, if only for a few moments. My fingers skimmed over her body, following that beautifully familiar route from collarbone to hip.
Penelope’s hand halted mine. “Please. Don’t.”
I pulled back, trying to ignore the sting of her rejection. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, fingers softening around mine. “I just…need to sleep.”
I nodded numbly. “Yes. Of course. You should rest.”
Penelope turned to face away from me. For a long while, I simply watched her, my eyes tracing those slender shoulders that had carried far too much for far too long. In the stillness, I replayed her words over and over. She claimed she was drowning, and it was true—I could see it, couldfeelit. With each passing day, she sank further into that ocean, and it terrified me to think of it: that Penelope might drift to a point I could no longer reach. I would follow her anywhere in this world orbeyond—to the very depths of Tartarus itself. But her mind was the one place I could not venture, and I was so scared of losing her within it. Even now, this tiny sliver of space between us felt cavernous, for though I could lean over and touch her, I knew I could notreachher.
She was drowning right there beside me, and I could not save her.
But I had to try.
I had to dosomething.
51
I found Eurymachus in the banquet hall.
Despite it being the early hours of the morning, the suitors’ revelry showed no sign of waning.
Flies feasted on leftover food littered across the tables, the stench of rotting meat and fish permeating the air. Penelope rarely permitted any of the slaves to step foot in there, so the food was often left out for days on end.
The suitors were busy redistributing their silver pieces. Beneath my feet, fresh blood gleamed across the stone floor. I wondered if any of it was my brother’s. Despite all my pleading, Melanthius still participated in the horrific fights the suitors orchestrated.
