Penelope let out a breathless laugh as she watched him process what he said. “I am yours. You have won my hand. Don’t make me wait for your return, King of Ithaca.”
A wicked grin split her face. “Take me home.”
24
“I THINK I’LL GO AND SEE HELEN,” Penelope announced casually, as if she were suggesting a stroll through the olive groves, not a journey across the sea. She said it over breakfast, of all times, while buttering a piece of bread as if nothing in their world had shattered the night before.
Odysseus froze mid-bite, the honey-drenched morsel clinging to his fingers. He swallowed harshly, choking as it lodged somewhere between his throat and his growing disbelief. “No,” he rasped, voice sharper than he intended. He cleared his throat, trying to temper it. “No, you won’t.”
Penelope set her knife down with deliberate grace, one brow arching as she studied him. Her calm was far more unnerving than any storm he’d weathered at sea. “No?”
He shifted in his chair, straightening as he met her gaze. “No.”
Penelope glowered at him from across the table, her expression resolute. “Helen is Zeus’s daughter,” she began, her voice even but carrying weight. “If anyone can tell us what the gods are scheming, it’s her. Perhaps her father, or her ‘siblings,’ have revealed something to her.”
Odysseus frowned, leaning back in his chair. “And you think Helen will share what she knows?”
“She’s my cousin, and we’ve always been close,” Penelope replied, though her tone betrayed a hint of uncertainty. “If she has any insight into this... she’d tell me. She has to.”
“No.” He tried to sound deliberate, kingly. But he felt inferior to the queen that sat before him, planning several moves ahead while he focused on the moment in front of them.
A small smile tugged at her lips, playful yet calculating. “Close your mouth, husband - it’s unbecoming of a king.” She took a pointed bite of her bread, and though her tone remained light, the glint in her eyes warned him he was wading into dangerous waters.
“Penelope,” he started, voice firm but with an edge of pleading. “After what happened last night, after-”
She cut him off, her smile fading as she leaned forward, her hands folding neatly on the table. “Exactly. After what happened last night, do you think I’ll sit idle?”
“Idle?” His brows furrowed, his own voice rising as frustration threatened to bubble over. “You call staying here, ensuring Ithaca doesn’t collapse in the face of whatever madness Hades is planning, idle? Protecting what we have built from families crying for reparations, idle?”
Her eyes narrowed, her poise unwavering. “I call it waiting for the gods to strike again. I call it letting fear dictate my actions. That is not the queen Ithaca needs. And it is certainly not the woman you married.”
His chest tightened. Damn her and her logic. Damn her and her strength. He had loved it since the moment he met her, but gods help him, it would be the death of him.
“I won’t allow it,” he said, his voice lowering to something rough, something raw. “I won’t risk you.”
Penelope stood then, slow and deliberate, the morning light framing her like the goddess she was. “You won’t allow it?” she repeated, her voice soft but edged with steel.
Odysseus opened his mouth to respond, but she rounded the table before he could form the words. Her fingers brushed his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Odysseus,” she murmured, her tone gentler now, coaxing. “I am not asking for your permission. I am telling you what I am going to do. We will face this together, husband. But if there’s even a chance that Helen knows something about the gods’ game, about this bargain Hades has struck with you, I must go.”
Her thumb brushed his jaw, and he cursed the way her touch softened him, melted his resolve. “Let me fight for us, for Ithaca, the way you have fought for me.”
He exhaled sharply, the weight of her words settling like a boulder on his chest. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth betrayed a reluctant smile.
“Funny,” she replied, her lips curving into something soft and triumphant, “I believe I can say the same for you, king.”
“Gods help me,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “Very well. But I’m going with you.”
“Absolutely not.”
This battle was only just beginning.
“Penel-”
“Don’t ‘Penelope’ me, Odysseus. You have just returned from over a decade at sea,” she cut him off sharply, placing her hands on the table and leaning close to him. “You will stay here, and you will rest.”
“Wife,” He closed his eyes, drawing air in through his nose as he tried to steady his temper. “You truly believe I will sit here in my kingdom while you traverse the seas?”
She opened her mouth to retort, but he held a hand up, giving her a moment’s pause. “Seas that swallowed you whole just last night?”
