“It’s not like that. Listen to me: Eurymachus is a monster. You cannot trust him.” I reached for his hands again, gripping them tightly. “If you wish to return free, then wait until Telemachus is king, let him grant you your freedom once he is able—”
“Telemachus will never sit upon that throne, Melantho,” he warned darkly. “Everyone in Ithaca knows that.”
“Then take Penelope’s offer. Please, I’m begging you. Go to Sparta. Be with your family—”
“Iwillbe with my family. Once Eurymachus is king and I’m a free man.”
“Melanthius—”
“And if you are any sister of mine, you’ll help me make that happen.”
We stared at each other for an agonizingly long moment. I did not know what to say. I did not know how to make him understand. AllI could do was watch as that spark in his eyes faded away, like those last, pulsing embers dwindling to irrevocable ash.
“Does the queen know her slaves stand around gossiping like old fishwives?” A voice splintered the silence between us.
I flinched as Melanthius ripped his hands free from mine. Turning, I saw the strange beggar perched on a stone bench, watching us beneath a vacant frown.
“What did you just say?” my brother snarled.
“Melanthius, don’t—”
He shoved past me and marched toward the man. “You think you can speak to me like that?”
“How else should I speak to you?” the beggar asked without bothering to rise. “You are a slave, are you not?”
“And what’re you? A stray dog begging for scraps.”
The beggar only smiled at that.
“What?” Melanthius goaded. “Lost your tongue now, have you?”
“I simply do not see the point in talking to a breed such as yours,” the beggar said, flicking his eyes over my brother. “A disloyal slave is like a cup without a bottom. Utterly useless to all.”
Melanthius jabbed his fist toward the man’s face, but the beggar simply batted him away as if he were swatting a fly. Melanthius tried again, and this time the beggar caught his wrist, snapping it at an unnatural angle.
“Stop!” I cried, rushing forward. “Stop, you’re hurting him!”
The beggar released Melanthius with a slight shrug.
“Melanthius, wait,” I called, but my brother was already striding away, cradling his wrist to his chest, cheeks burning with outrage and humiliation.
A part of me wanted to run after him, but what use would that have been? What would I even have said? We stood on opposite sides of the battleground, bloodshed looming on the horizon. I could not reach Melanthius now.
I only prayed he might see sense once all this was over.
“I apologize for my brother’s behavior,” I said to the beggar. Only he did not appear to be listening, his attention caught by one of the hunting dogs slumped at his feet. He was scratching the old mutt’s ears with a surprising degree of fondness.
For a moment, I simply watched him, welcoming this quiet moment as I tried to block out thoughts of tomorrow, of what these halls might look like crawling with bloodthirsty killers…
“There you are.” Eumaeus’s breathless voice caught me by surprise.
Though it had been ten summers since I had rejected his marriage offer, Eumaeus still did everything in his power to avoid me. Now, as he sidled up to the beggar, his eyes brushed over mine.
“Melantho,” he said stiffly.
“Eumaeus, who is in charge of this dog?” the beggar demanded. “What is the reason for his poor state?”
“I am not sure. But I can find out of course,” Eumaeus said. He then turned to me, awkwardness hardening his voice. “Do you know why this creature is not cared for?”
