She recoiled, and I felt a grim sense of victory, though the feeling was hollow in my chest.
A silence settled. Penelope stared intently at the wall behind me, her face shimmering with emotions she would not dare spill. I glared at her, willing that perfect mask to crumble.
“I hate you and every one of your kind,” I said, hoping this finishing blow might finally shatter that infuriating composure.
But it did not.
Instead, Penelope nodded, as if in agreement with my words. She then straightened her shoulders, absently patting down the folds of her gown, eyes avoiding mine.
“I must go,” she said, voice scraped clean of all feeling. “The gift-giving ceremony will commence shortly. Then we are to depart for Ithaca.”
I watched her turn and walk toward the door, her back as straight as an arrow ready to fly.
She paused at the threshold. I wanted to look away, but I found my eyes tracing her profile, the steep angle of her nose, the graceful slice of her jaw.
“I am sorry,” she whispered. “For the others.”
Then she walked away, and I felt a suffocating wave of exhaustion crash through me. I welcomed it, letting it pull me under as I stared into the empty space Penelope had left behind.
18
I had never seen the sea before.
I had heard stories, of course, of those wine-dark waves. Many slaves had spoken of it as if it were a living, breathing thing, a beast that paced, restless and hungry, always on the edge of a vicious temper. Only Poseidon could leash the violent creature, though he rarely did. They said the god preferred to let his tides run free, to stir fear in the hearts of those who dared venture into his domain.
In my mind, I pictured the sea as some watery monster prowling the horizon, swallowing ships in its foaming maw. But when we arrived in the bustling port town and I stared out at that expanse of blue, I saw onlybeauty, the world cracked open before me, spilling out in endless azure waves, wider than I had ever imagined it to be.
In Sparta, the skyline had always been encased by towering mountains, cupping the kingdom like a giant palm. But here, I could see where the heavens brushed the tips of the earth, bleeding into the waves. This horizon was limitless, and for an instant, it made me feel limitless too.
I tried to grasp hold of that fleeting, weightless sensation ofpossibility.
But then the guilt found me, staining the moment with its sharp, rotten teeth. Why did I deserve to enjoy this view while Callias, Melitta, and Xanthias were enduringmypunishment?
What right did I have?
The question hung over me as I stretched my aching limbs. Beside me, Melanthius stared blankly at the ground. He wore the same empty expression he had since leaving Sparta, when we had been packed into the cramped wooden cart we now alighted from. I knew his thoughts were elsewhere, left behind at the palace along with his heart.
Odysseus’s guards herded us toward the harbor. His men were notably more polite than those of Sparta. Instead of snapping their orders as if they were scolding mutts, they spoke in calm, neutral voices: “This way. Follow me.”
There were ten of us in total gifted by the king, and we walked alongside the chests of gold and fine trinkets that made up Penelope’s dowry. Tyndareus had been generous. Clearly, he thought his niece a worthy prize.
Ahead of us, I saw Penelope arm in arm with Odysseus. She pointed at something on the horizon, and he leaned close to whisper in her ear, his lips hitched into a grin as he spoke. She laughed, the sound tinkling over the breeze.
I turned away, the view no longer seeming quite as beautiful.
Ahead, giant wooden structures were gathered in the harbor, towering so high I had to crane my neck to glimpse the tops of them.Ships.I had only ever encountered them in paintings and stories. Shielding my eyes from the sun, I struggled to comprehend the sheer size of them. They stretched long and narrow, with giant oars spilling from their sides like legs. On the decks, wooden poles stood proud, reaching so high they looked as if they were piercing the sky.
My eyes drifted to the sailors, their bronzed faces calloused by the sea breeze, lips dry and cracked. They looked like the bark of a tree, gnarled and worn, yet there was something about them I envied—the lightness to their movements, the easiness of their smiles, the glint in their eyes.
My drifting gaze collided with my father’s, and I saw his shoulders tense as he traced the bruises marring my face. An unspokenawkwardness shifted between us, and he quickly glanced away.
I wished he had stayed behind in Sparta. Penelope must have thought it would be a comfort, to embark on this new life with a parent at my side. But my father’s presence only served to remind me of the one I had lost. The only true parent I had ever had.
A thought struck me then, like a knife through my chest.
“She won’t be able to find us,” I whispered to Melanthius. “If Mama ever returns to Sparta. If she comes looking for us. We won’t be there.”
My brother stared ahead with frighteningly empty eyes. “She won’t be coming back.”
