Somehow, I managed to return his vile smile.
“A genius plan,” I said, sweat coating my palms. “Ithaca will believe it was a tragic, unmotivated attack. Nobody will trace it back to you. Your hands will remain clean.”
He strode toward me then and grabbed my neck, pulling my face to his.
“And once Telemachus is dead,” he hissed against my mouth, “I will take Penelope as my wife.”
“And if she refuses?”
Eurymachus’s smile widened. “Then she will join her son in the Underworld.”
52
Eurymachus demanded I stay the night.
I wish I could say he did not touch me again. I wish I could say the laced wine made him fall asleep instantly.
But the Fates are not so forgiving.
I had never been so desperate for the sun to rise. When it finally did, I slipped from Eurymachus’s chamber only for the hawkish eyes of Eurycleia to pin me against the door. The old crone was like a ghost, perpetually haunting these passageways and materializing at the most ill-timed moments.
“After all she has done for you,” Eurycleia hissed, disgust rotting behind each word, “thisis how you repay Mistress Penelope? By crawling into bed with one ofthem?”
I opened my mouth to argue, but a wave of exhaustion slammed into me, stealing the fight from my lips. Wordlessly, I turned and walked away.
“The gods will punish you for this.” Eurycleia’s haughty voice echoed down the hall.
“The gods can get in line,” I muttered back.
***
I found Penelope sitting at her loom, working on Laertes’s shroud.
Our quarters were quiet; everyone was out enjoying the small window of freedom they had while the suitors slept off their nightly indulgences. Everyone except Penelope.
For a moment, I simply watched her work—those fingers that moved like water, so swift I had trouble keeping up with them.
Sensing my presence, Penelope turned. She smiled when she saw me, a rare sight these days, and the beauty of it nearly broke me. But I forced myself to walk forward and take a seat on the spare stool beside the loom.
“You were gone when I awoke this morning,” she said.
Penelope’s eyes were bruised with lack of sleep, her hair falling around her face in long, dark tendrils. I loved it when her hair was loose like this, and I almost reached out to tuck a strand behind her ear, but guilt held me back. I would not touch her when I still had the remnants of Eurymachus tainting my skin.
The seconds passed, and I wished I could hold on to this moment for a little while longer before I ripped it apart.
“There is something I must tell you.”
Penelope’s hands stilled. She turned to look at me, though I could no longer meet her gaze.
“What is it?”
“I know what the suitors are plotting.” I forced myself to speak slowly, glaring down at the faded rug. “Eurymachus has paid pirates to ambush Telemachus’s ship upon his return to Ithaca. He has instructed them to kill everyone on board.”
Beside me, Penelope seemed to disappear, shrinking somewhere deep inside herself. She sat so motionless I could not even tell if she was breathing.
“Penelope?” I prompted. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes,” she murmured. “I heard you.”
