My gaze snapped back to Odysseus, to those menacing, restless strides.
“It’s not over,” I whispered. “Not yet.”
61
Night had fallen by the time we finished.
I stood beside my friends as Odysseus surveyed the spotless room, my muscles aching fiercely. I drew in a slow breath, the stench of blood and death permanently scalded into my nostrils.
I could feel the same suffocating exhaustion weighing down the others as we awaited Odysseus’s assessment of our work. We all longed to return to our quarters, to bathe and sleep and escape this nightmare. But there was still that look in Odysseus’s eyes, that agitated hunger.
I knew his vengeance was not satiated, not yet.
Telemachus lurked in the corner of the room, his face ashen. He had been quiet ever since Eumaeus had dragged my brother away, as if the reality of this day had finally come crashing down upon him. He had never killed a person before, and now so many souls stained his hands.
Odysseus did not seem to notice his son’s unease. Or perhaps he chose not to.
“At least your cleaning skills are still exemplary,” Odysseus said. He then walked down our line and stopped before Actoris, his thick frame towering over her. “You. Follow.”
Panic stole my breath as I watched Actoris hesitate. She glanced to Telemachus, who gave her a subtle nod.Then, lifting her chin a little higher, she followed the king of Ithaca out of the door. Moments later,he returned, this time beckoning Skaris to follow. Odysseus continued in this way until I was the last left in the hall.
“Where is he taking us?” I asked Telemachus once we were alone. He remained pointedly silent. “I did not betray you, Telemachus. You must know that.”
“So Eurycleia lied about what she saw?” he asked quietly.
“You don’t understand—”
“No. Clearly, I do not.”
“Everything I did was to protect you, to protect your mother. I was never on their side. You must know that. Ipretendedto ally myself with them for information.”
The prince of Ithaca met my gaze for a silent beat, then looked away. I wanted to storm over and shake some sense into him, but Odysseus appeared in the doorway, summoning me with a large, open hand.
Numbly, I followed the king as he led me to the courtyard, flanked by Telemachus. We walked in silence toward the large oak tree at the center of the square. Darkness had crept over the palace now, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust, to realize what hung from that tree.
Six nooses.
I froze, my eyes darting to the handmaids—my friends, my sisters—who were standing side by side with rope around their throats. Even in the blackness, I could make out the bruising on Actoris’s and Skaris’s faces. Clearly, they had put up a fight, but now the two of them stood bound and gagged with Eumaeus beside them, his sword held in silent warning.
“Move,” Odysseus commanded me.
“You can’t do this,” I choked out.
Odysseus ignored me, grabbing my arm and hauling me toward the final noose. I battled against him, but he was unnervingly strong, forcing the rope around my throat with ease.
“Father!” Telemachus shouted, following behind us. “What are you doing? What is this?”
“Justice.” Odysseus snarled the word.
“These women are innocent!”
“Innocent? They spread their legs for our enemies. They conspired to haveyoukilled. They dishonored their queen. And you call them innocent?”
Telemachus froze, trembling hands clenching into fists at his sides. “You’re wrong, Father.”
Odysseus released me to turn toward his son, blade lifted. “What did you say?”
Telemachus held up his hands. “Father, f-forgive me. But these women raised me. I know them. They are innocent. I swear it.”
