“Please, Melantho, do not insult my intelligence.” He held my gaze for a slow, tense beat. “At least you have not tried another disastrousescape since you have been here. That is a headache I truly do not need.” He said this with a chuckle, as if we were old friends sharing a joke. “So tell me, Melantho, why is it my wife believes you so worthy of your freedom?”
My fists clenched tighter. “Are not all men and women deserving of such a thing?”
“No,” Odysseus answered simply. “There are those born to rule and those born to be ruled. It is the nature of humankind, etched into our blood.”
“Well, what if it were inmyblood to rule?”
Silent laughter glowed in his eyes, making his lips curl wider.
“You are interesting, Melantho. I shall give you that.” He offered the insulting words as if he were offering food to a starving mutt, expecting me to wolf them down appreciatively. “Alas, I cannot grant you your freedom until I am convinced you are worthy of it. I am sure you understand.”
Fury shot through me, and I stared at his carving blade, now discarded on the floor. For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to imagine it—grabbing the blade and jamming it into his throat, hot blood spurting out as that patronizing smile faded from his lips…
Is it still in your blood to rule if it coats my hands?
“I am sure you will find a way to convince me,” Odysseus continued. “And truthfully, I hope you do, Melantho. For Penelope’s sake. She seems very set on this.”
How I hated the way his eyes twinkled when he spoke of her.
“I’m sure I can,” I murmured, angling my body even closer. “I could think of many,manyways to convince you.”
I peered up at him from beneath lowered lashes. It was the kind of gaze that stroked egos and other intimate areas, the kind of gaze that was a promise and a secret and a dare all rolled into one heady glance. It was the kind of gaze that always undid Castor and his friends.
And I willed it to do the same now.
I wanted to undo the prince of Ithaca.
I wanted to reveal the pathetic man that lingered within him.
Let’s see how patronizing he is when he is begging for my body.
I dared to reach out, to trace that scar along his thigh. Odysseus stared at my fingers for a moment, and I could feel the desire flicker inside him, curious and light, his expression lost to thoughts I knew he would never share with me.
His hand closed around my fingers, halting them.
“You are a beautiful girl, Melantho,” he said, and I loathed how gentle his voice was. “But I have no such interest in slaves.”
“Perhaps you might like to try?”
His sigh ended in a smile. “What I wouldlikeis to go and see my wife. But she insists I wait until her sickness passes.”
“Sickness?” I snatched my hand away.
“Not to worry, Melantho. It is perfectly common and usually passes by the afternoon. My mother was the same when she carried my sister.” Odysseus studied my reaction with a frown. “You have not heard the news?”
“Penelope is…pregnant?”
“I thought all of Ithaca knew by now.”
Odysseus continued talking, but his words fell away as the realization roared through me.Penelope is pregnant.
“I did not know,” I finally managed.
Odysseus chuckled. “You sound a little jealous, Melantho.”
I flinched, eyes flashing to his. “I’m not—”
“It’s all right. It’s only natural. I know all women long for children. Perhaps, if you demonstrate your good behavior, I could find you a suitable companion as a reward.”
