“No, no! Not her! Take me instead! Take—” My brother was silenced by a blow to his temple.
“Do not worry, boy. You will get your chance,” Tyndareus said as he approached the firepit. “I want you to know I take no pleasure in this. But there is a certaintrustbetween master and slave, is there not? And that trust has been broken. So now actions must be taken to protect my property and to ensure you remember your place.”
He removed the rod from the fire, the metal singing with a sinister, searing heat. I instinctively recoiled as Tyndareus drew closer, but the guards tightened their hold around my shoulders. One of them knotted my hair in his fist, wrenching my head backward.
“You will want to hold still for this,” the king warned.
He angled the scorching rod just above my forehead, and I stared up at the triangular end, the metal glowing so hot it rippled with veins of gold.
Be brave.My mother’s voice sliced through my panic, and I willed it to center me.
I would not give Tyndareus the satisfaction of my fear. This man had already taken so much from me; I would not let him have this. So I closed my eyes, forcing my breathing to steady itself, my mind to focus.
Think of a happier place. Think of a safe place.
I felt the sandy bank of the Eurotas river beneath me, my skin damp and cool, belly aching with laughter…
I think this is my favorite day.
“Stop!” A cry ripped me from the vision.
My eyes snapped open to see a figure storming in, as if she had been torn straight from my mind.
“Stop this at once,” Penelope commanded.
The guards gaped at her, uncertain what to do. She was a princessafter all; they could not simply seize her.
Tyndareus lowered the rod, his anger caged between the harsh lines of his face.
“Penelope? What do you think you’re doing?”
“I should ask you the same question, uncle.”
Tyndareus scoffed at her impudence. “These slaves were caught trying to escape. I am carrying out the necessary punishment.”
“They are not your property, not anymore,” Penelope shot back. She was fearless, her eyes blazing, face set with a stern resolution I had never seen before. “You promised these slaves to me as my wedding present. You swore an oath. Thus, they are undermycontrol. It is not your right to punish them. It ismine.”
Tyndareus laughed as if this were all some elaborate joke, but at the coldness of Penelope’s glare, his amusement soon withered into irritation. “The gifts have not yet been bestowed. These slaves escaped undermyownership, so I shall punish them as I see fit.”
“And then what? You shall present these gifts to Odysseus and me with fresh brands on their foreheads, brands that mark them as deserters? Do you not think my husband would be offended by such a gift?”
“I will not give them as gifts at all,” Tyndareus snapped, his patience a fraying thread pulled tauter with every word. “They are not worthy.”
“They aremine. You swore it on the river Styx.”
“I will give you other slaves, better slaves.”
“I want these ones.”
“Them?” Tyndareus jabbed his rod toward me. “Look at them. They are pitiful, disobedient creatures. You are still young, Penelope, and have yet to run a household of your own. So trust me when I say these slaves will not be worth the trouble.”
Penelope held her uncle’s glare, voice quivering with a quiet determination. “You gave me your word. These are the ones I want.”
I stared at the king and princess, fear still sharp in my veins. Tyndareus sighed, shaking his head as if Penelope were nothing morethan a petulant child.
“All the attention of the wedding has gone to your head, girl,” he muttered. “Very well. You can have the ones I promised you.”
“Unharmed.”
