“How does this relate to Helen choosing her own husband?” Polydeuces pressed before motioning to the board between them. “It’s your turn.”
“It would be the wisest course of action,” Penelope replied, moving her counters without even looking at where she placed them. “If Tyndareus chooses a suitor, those not chosen will feel slighted by his rejection. But ifHelenchooses or appears to be the one choosing, then Tyndareus can blame infatuation, Eros’s arrow of desire, or any number of innocuous motives that are far harder to raise arms against.”
Her voice was like rainfall—steady and soothing yet with a drumming intensity to it. It was the kind of sound that made you want to close your eyes and tilt back your head, letting it seep into your skin, your bones…
I shivered, pushing the thought away.
“And how do you know Helen would pick Menelaus?” Polydeuces asked.
Penelope looked at him as if the answer were obvious. “Becausehe is the brother of Clytemnestra’s husband, and you know Helen follows her sister in all things.”
A smile slashed across Castor’s face. “I know what Penelope is getting at. She wants Helen to change the rules soshecan choose her own husband too. Is that it, cousin? After all, that is why you’re here, isn’t it? To pick through Helen’s leftovers.”
I jolted, my jug nearly slipping from my hands. Across the room, Callias threw me a questioning glance.
“Tyndareus is to arrange my betrothal, as my father has agreed with him,” Penelope said plainly. She moved the counters again, and Polydeuces’s brow furrowed.
“By Zeus, if we start letting women choose their husbands, who will decide next? The slaves?” Castor laughed. It was an ugly sound. “Good thing we have one right here. Why don’t we ask her? Go on, girl, tell us whatyouthink.” He motioned to me with his cup, causing the liquid to slosh over the edge and spill onto my sandals. “Who doyouthink Penelope here should marry?”
“It would not be my place to say, master.”
Castor rose, throwing a heavy arm around my shoulders. “Come now, there must be some thoughts in that pretty head of yours. Share them with us!”
I could feel Penelope’s eyes on me now. Embarrassment prickled beneath my skin, like hot needles piercing every inch of my body.
“Look at my cousin and have a long, hard think. I saidlook at her.” Castor grabbed my face, forcing it toward Penelope. Her eyes slipped to mine, and they somehow felt both intimately familiar and wholly distant.
Memories gulped inside me, making my pulse quicken. But I forced myself to push past them and to look,really look, at the princess before me—the clean, perfumed skin, those elegant, expensively dyed robes, her glittering jewelry and beautifully styled hair. As a child, I had admired these details. Now, I hated them. I hated everything Penelope was and how it served as a constant, taunting reminder ofall I was not and could never be.
“Her heart is galloping,” Castor said, his palm planted over my chest. “You’re making her nervous, cousin.”
Penelope stared at Castor blankly. “If you’re done toying with the slave, may I return to my game? It’s your turn, Polydeuces.”
The slave.
“Oh, don’t be so dismissive.” Castor tutted. “Melantho here is one of my favorites.”
“Your favorite toy changes every season, brother,” Polydeuces sniggered.
“I suppose,” Castor said, letting go of me. “But you have to admit she’s nice to look at.”
Penelope’s eyes flickered to mine again, her expression indecipherable. She held my gaze for the briefest of moments before turning back to Polydeuces.
“I said it’s your turn.”
“Easy now, cousin.” Polydeuces chuckled, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “What’s with that tone?”
“She’s probably on her bleeding, brother,” Castor announced from where he had flopped back onto his bench. “Women are always ill-tempered when they bleed.”
Polydeuces nodded in agreement as he began moving his counters. With his free hand, he motioned to his cup.
I obeyed, trying to steady the anger still churning inside me as I bent to pour his wine. Absently, my eyes flicked over the board. It was plain to see Penelope had won the game; one simple move and victory would be hers. But when it was her turn, Penelope retreated.
“Seems you haven’t been practicing enough these past summers,” Polydeuces said as he proudly made the winning move Penelope had opened for him. “I have beaten you at long last.”
“Well done.” Penelope did not even bother reviewing the board as she rose to her feet. “If it pleases you, I wish to retire to my roomnow. I am not feeling well.”
“Definitely bleeding,” Castor said smugly to his brother. “I told you.”
