A quietness settled between us, and I felt the seconds spiraling away all too quickly. The rowing boat was empty now, already turning back toward the shore.
But this could not be it.
Our final moment together could not be Penelope in Odysseus’s arms.
Come back to me.
I closed my eyes and saw my life swirling before me, memories eddying in rich currents of the past. Penelope beat at the core of each one, like an anchor tying me to this world, the pulse that thrummed at the very center of my existence.
How could I leave her? The idea seemed impossible, like severing a soul from its body and expecting both to continue living.
I heard the shushing of oars and opened my eyes to see the boat drawing up beside us.
“Melantho—” Telemachus began.
“No.” I shook my head. “I cannot go. I cannot leave her.”
“She would want you to.”
Tears stung my eyes, my nose. “Not like this. I cannot go like this.”
“You’re putting them all at risk by waiting,” he reminded me softly.
It was then that we heard it: a quiver of thunder in the distance. No, not thunder.
Hooves.
We turned in unison to see the queen of Ithaca breaking through the tree line, her gown billowing behind her as she galloped toward us, forcing her mount faster,faster.
My heart leaped as I dashed forward, crying out her name.
“Penelope!”
She dismounted and was running to me now, both of us stumbling wildly through the dark, reaching for each other.
“Melantho!”
We collided in a desperate tangle of limbs, breaths crashing into chaotic rhythm.
“I’m so sorry.” She gulped out the fractured words. “I never thought he would… I didn’t think… I’m so sorry.”
I took her face in my hands. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” she said. Then her eyes lowered to my throat, tears welling as she traced the angry bruises blossoming there.
“Melantho—”
“I’m fine.”
She reached for my gown next. “The blood—”
“It’s not…” My voice caught. “It isn’t mine.”
She met my gaze again. “I’m so sorry. Your brother—”
“Please. Don’t. I can’t,” I choked out, shaking my head. “How did you get away?”
Penelope steadied herself before answering. “I gave Odysseus my sleeping draught. But it will not last long.”
