“What’s wrong?” I called out.
“You go in,” she insisted. “I’ll watch.”
I hurried back up the bank toward her. “I’m not going in without you.”
“I…I don’t think I can, Melantho.”
“Why?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What if I drown?”
I snorted. “Drown?”
She closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling unsteadily. “Melantho…I can’t.”
“You can. You just think you can’t.” When she opened her eyes, I was standing right in front of her, my hand outstretched. “So stop thinking.”
A laugh escaped her, small and tight. “Stop thinking?”
I nodded, wiggling my fingers. Something sparked in her eyes then, and she threw her hand into mine. Before she could think twice or even strip off her gown, I dragged her into the river.
We shrieked in unison, the sun-warmed water feeling deliciously crisp against our clammy skin. I dove under, my whoop of delight escaping in a flurry of bubbles. When I surfaced, Penelope was watching me, arms folded over her chest.
“You can’t just stand there. You have to go fully in.” I inched toward her, grinning. “Do you want me to help?”
“No…wait—Melantho!”
My name turned into a shriek as I shoved her backward into the water.
“Youpushedme!” Penelope spluttered when she emerged, drenched and frowning.
I bit back a giggle. “Only a little.”
She stared at me, water dripping down her face, dangling on the ends of her lashes. For a moment, I feared I had truly upset her, but then I caught that glint in her eyes, the one that always shone before any game we played. She lunged for me, and we went crashing into the water together, our laughter mingling with the bubbling currents.
We spent all morning playing in the river. Afterward, we lay belly-up on the bank, damp limbs humming with exhaustion. We stayed that way for hours, lounging on the baking sand, time stretching around us like a long, lazy yawn.
We were like rulers of our own kingdom, as bright and endless and untouchable as the sky itself.
At one point, Penelope turned to me, propping her head on her bent arm, wet hair sticking to her flushed cheeks.
“I think this is my favorite day,” she told me.
I smiled so wide it hurt. “I think so too.”
5
“Where areyougoing?”
It was the day after our trip to the river, and I was trundling alone through the palace hallways when the voice caught me.
Turning, I found Clytemnestra standing behind me like a goddess just descended from Olympus. I quickly bowed, and the princess of Sparta smiled, though there was no warmth to the sharp cut of her lips. An animal pelt was slung across her shoulders, the dark, bulky fur making her appear even broader.
She cocked her head to the side, toned arms folded as she observed the gown I wore: the one Penelope had made for me. I studied her too. She was pretty despite her best efforts not to be—her blond hair was scraped back, dirt and bruises mingling across her skin, nose sharply crooked from one too many fights. Her brows were thick, emphasizing the striking color of her eyes—deep brown, threaded with ribbons of gold.
“I asked you a question, slave.”
Ignoring the knot in my throat, I replied, “I’m going to get breakfast for Penelope and me.”
