We paused as we neared the doorway to the princes’ entertaining quarters. Sharing a smile, we spat into our wine jugs and clinked them together. This small act of rebellion had become a tradition of ours, one I had grown very fond of.
“Just think of all the wine we can spoil when the suitors arrive tomorrow,” he whispered as we entered the room.
I stifled a laugh, but the amusement died on my lips as soon as I looked up.
As soon as I sawher.
A ghost ripped straight from the shadows of my past.
Penelope.
The world seemed to slow in her presence, the seconds congealing together, sticking to my body, making my movements slow and awkward as I soaked her in…
She had always been slender, but it seemed the rest of her body had finally caught up with those long, elegant limbs of hers. Her face too had changed, those angular features seeming sharper, cut with an austere edge. Sunlight spilled across her high cheekbones as she assessed the board game set between her and Polydeuces. Though her features had altered, her expression remained achingly familiar—that quiet focus that seemed to consume every inch of her.
Callias brushed my arm, and I realized that I had stopped moving, stopped breathing, stoppedthinking. It was as if my whole existence had been swallowed by Penelope’s presence.
He nudged me again. “Melantho?”
Penelope’s head snapped up, as if her own name had been called.
Her eyes were like twin blades carving through me. I had forgotten how intense her gaze was. It never felt like Penelope was lookingatyou but ratherintoyou, delving into the very darkest depths of your mind.
It took me a moment to remember I hated her.
She is not my friend.
I ripped my gaze away and forced myself to approach Castor. The prince was lounging across a bench, looking like some beautiful, vain statue brought to life. When he saw me nearing, he cast a slow, appreciative glance over my body.
“We should place bets on which suitor we believe shall be the lucky bastard,” he said, turning back to Polydeuces. “Who do you think, brother?”
“Ajax the Great would be the obvious bet,” Polydeuces said as he mused over his next move. “They are calling him Aristos Achaion.”
“The best of the Greeks.” Castor scoffed at the title. “They say that about everyone.”
“Who do you think then, brother?”
“My bet is on Menestheus,” he said as I refilled his cup. I felt his hand slip beneath my tunic, skating along my bare thighs. “He is king of Athens now after all.”
“Only becauseweplaced him there,” Polydeuces drawled. “Who do you think, cousin?”
“I do not presume to know the plans of King Tyndareus,” Penelope said quietly.
It hurt, hearing her voice. The familiarity of it dragged me back to another time, another life, to a version of myself I did not recognize anymore, one crystallized in bittersweet naivety. A girl who still believed the world was a gift for her to cherish, not a burden forced upon her shoulders. A girl who thought “slave” meant “family.” A girl who believed she could be anything she wanted to be, even best friends with a princess.
A girl who still had a mother.
“Oh, come on,” Castor cajoled. “You’re meant to be thesmartone in the family. So prove it.”
Penelope gave a resigned sigh. “Whoever he chooses, Tyndareus should make it seem as if it were Helen’s decision. Menelaus of Mycenae is the most obvious candidate, a man who Helen would likely choose and is also a beneficial match for Tyndareus.”
Polydeuces gave a loud snort as he moved his counters across the board.
“And why would Helen get tochooseher husband?” Castor scoffed.
Penelope turned to him, her gaze flat. “Your father has invited suitors from all over Greece for the chance to win the hand of ‘the most beautiful woman in the world,’ daughter of Zeus himself, yes? These are kings, princes, famed heroes, men who are used to one thing—victory. But onlyonecan be victorious here. How do you think the rest will take defeat when Helen’s husband is chosen?”
Castor and Polydeuces shared a look.
