I stared at her for a silent moment.
“If they cut him out, you’ll die.”
She gave me a look then, her eyes heavy with defeat, as if she believed it inevitable, as if the thread of her life had already been sliced by the Fates.
“He is in the wrong position,” she said, as if that were answer enough.
Her gaze loosened and shifted away from mine, but I grabbed her face with both my hands, forcing her to look at me.
“No.No.Don’t you do that. Don’t give up. You can do this. You must do this. For your husband…for your baby… They need you.” My words were edged with a wild desperation. “Ineed you. Do you hear? I. Need. You. And I will not let you die. You brought me to this ugly island, so don’t you dare leave me here alone. I forbid it. Do you hear me?”
“Is…that a…command?” she whispered, the faintest thread of amusement lining her voice.
Despite myself, I laughed, though it sounded more like a sob, thick and strained in my throat.
“You bet your pampered royal arse it is,” I said, a thrill singing in my veins as Penelope huffed a delicate, raw-edged chuckle.
“Melantho,” Eurycleia snapped. “How dare you!”
I ignored her as I continued, “You are not Precious Penelope. You never were. You are stronger than you have ever allowed yourself to realize, and I know you can do this. So I need you to start pushing. For your husband. For your baby. But most importantly, for yourself. Because this is not your end.”
This is notourend.
A fresh wave of determination sharpened Penelope’s gaze as she stared at me.
“Are you ready?” I asked, and she nodded, her eyes never leavingmy face. “On three, all right? One…two…three.”
***
It was a boy.
A healthy baby boy with a mop of thick onyx hair just like his mother’s.
He was wrinkled and wriggling, and I could not take my eyes off him. There was something about him that felt vaguely magical: how fresh he was to the world, untouched by all its ugliness.
He fussed in Penelope’s arms, as if it were a great inconvenience that he had been ripped from his warm home and brought into this strange, new place. As I stared at him, I wondered how something so small and fragile could have almost ended someone so important.
I was lying next to Penelope on the bed, our shoulders brushing as we gazed upon this new burst of life wriggling in her arms. Our closeness felt comfortable—natural even. Which was strange after all the distance between us.
“He’s beautiful,” I whispered.
“Is it arrogant of me to agree?” Penelope asked with a smile.
She still looked exhausted, her face deathly pale, cheeks sunken, yet her tired eyes glowed as she stared at her child. I could feel the pride and relief and wonder radiating off her, mingling with my own.
“Although I think he will have my nose. Poor child.” She tutted.
“I like your nose,” I said.
Penelope only scoffed in response.
“I’m serious. I’ve always liked your nose.”
“Really?”
I nudged her arm, the warmth of her body pressing into mine. “Really.”
My eyes flickered to her face, and I watched the smile grow there.
