The queen of Ithaca did not smile as she took the pirate’s hand and shook.
55
The prince of Ithaca returned the following day.
There was a small group awaiting his return, consisting of Penelope, the handmaids, Eurycleia, and, mercifully, no pirates.
As Telemachus disembarked from his ship, something about him seemed notably different. Though his features had not changed at all, he somehow appeared older. It was in the way he carried himself—there was a sureness to his steps I had never seen before. Clearly, his time in Sparta had served him well.
Penelope was subdued as she embraced her son, keeping her emotions locked in tight. The handmaids did not show such restraint. They descended on Telemachus in a flurry of excited exclamations, with Skaris picking the prince up and swinging him around. Only Actoris and I held back, smirking as Telemachus tried to disentangle himself from Hippodamia’s tearful kisses. Once he was free from her clutches, the prince turned to me.
“Hello, Melantho,” he said as I hugged him.
“I missed you,” I whispered, holding him tight.
He smiled, then turned to Actoris. I couldn’t help but notice the slight lifting of color in her cheeks as he approached. When she had first arrived here, Actoris had been the taller one, but now Telemachus towered over her tiny stature, his handsome face sharpened by a recent flush of manhood.
“You look older,” she said to him by way of greeting.
Telemachus nodded. “I feel older.”
She cut her gaze up and down him, and Telemachus braced himself for one of Actoris’s usual insults. But instead, she simply said, “It suits you.”
Now it was Telemachus’s turn to blush, though he tried his best to hide it. I glanced at Penelope, and despite all that faced us, we shared a smile.
***
“I found the slaves you were looking for,” Telemachus said.
I was walking with him to his chambers, following the shadowy back passages only ever used by us slaves. It was still too early for the suitors to be awake, but we did not wish to take any risks. The longer Telemachus’s return was kept secret, the longer he was safe.
The prince’s words made me freeze. After all that had come to pass, I had forgotten what I had asked of Telemachus when he left for Sparta—to see what news he could find of my old companions.
“Melitta?” I whispered. “Is she well?”
Telemachus came to a halt beside me and nodded. “She serves in the kitchens. The man, Callias, was there too. He seemed quiet but well from what I could tell.”
My heart squeezed for my old friend.
“And Melitta’s child?”
“A girl. Her name is Alcippe. She serves as Helen’s handmaid. Helen seems to care for her handmaids very well.”
Alcippe.I held the name close, like a rare, secret treasure.
Telemachus then added a shade quieter, “She looks a lot like you. Alcippe.”
I smiled, eyes prickling. “She does?”
He nodded. “Curly hair, fierce eyes. Looks like you wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.”
A laugh spilled out of me, but I quickly muffled the sound,scanning the narrow hallway. “We should keep moving.”
“I didn’t get a chance to speak to her though,” Telemachus admitted as we fell into step again. “I’m sorry for that.”
“No, no.” I shook my head, then squeezed his hand. “This is wonderful news. Thank you.”
“May I ask you something?” Telemachus tilted his face as he studied mine. “My mother seems…distant. Do you know why that might be?”
