Penelope huffed, turning her back on him once again. “You might have time to fool around, king,” she tossed over her shoulder, “but I have duties to attend to.”
She didn’t look back, but truly she didn’t have to. She heard him resume his humming only seconds after she had started walking. His tuneless song floating on the breeze around her.
As they neared the docks, he caught up, placing a hand on the small of her back. He said nothing, just stood there with her.
While they navigated the piers, Penelope noticed their people were avoiding them. Women that she had spoken to many times were quickly turning their backs, sailors that she had paid to protect Ithaca, refusing to meet her gaze.
Her brow furrowed as they continued walking, a tremor of anxiety flaring up inside of her.
Odysseus seemed oblivious to it. His grin was still stretched wide across his face, loose strands of his hair were blowing in the sea breeze.
“My king!” A fisherman shouted, whooping at him. The man hopped down from his place on the pier and slapped Odysseus hard on the back, returning the smug grin that her husband had been carrying.
Penelope stopped in her tracks, turning to face him fully. His hair was tousled… unmistakably more so than the ocean winds would do. His tunic was off kilter, as if…
She gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. She dropped Odysseus’ arm, making her way quickly to a pane of reflective glass.
Her hair was unkempt, the tendrils of her braids wild around her face. Her tunic secured with a sloppy knot, and her lips…
Swollen from a stolen moment.
If her face had been flushed before, it had only deepened now. She frantically tried to calm her unruly hair, tucking the curls back into the leather ties that kept her hair up.
Odysseus’ reflection appeared behind her, setting his hands on her waist. “Deep breath, queen.” He murmured into her hair, reaching around her. He grabbed the tie at the front of her tunic, cinching it tightly around her waist.
He pressed a kiss to her cheek, that damn grin still stretching across his lips. “Are you embarrassed by me, wife?”
“Never.” She answered immediately.
“Do you wish to hide our love, wife?” His lips were by her ear again, his voice dropping.
“No,” she answered, though her voice was not as strong as before.
“Tell me, wife, did your parents touch? Did they hold hands? Steal kisses? Sneak away?”
“You know they didn’t.”
“Were they happy?”
“Odysseus…”
“We will never,have never, fit into the decorum, the standards, of what a king and a queen should look like. Should do. I am wildly in love with my wife, and I don’t give a damn who knows it.” His arms were wrapped around her middle now, drawing her close to him.
“Don’t we have a meeting, highness?” He asked, breaking her free from her thoughts, leaving no room for arguments.
43
HE HAD STOLEN AWAY IN THE EVENINGS, while the moon was high, and his wife slept soundly. He couldn’t bear the thought of being away from her while she was awake, but he had this idea… this nagging design that he couldn’t shake.
After several nights of work, slipping out of bed while his wife slept, and back in before she woke, he had completed it.
Now, to present it to his queen.
“Wake up,” he jostled his sleeping wife. He tried and failed to keep the excitement out of his voice as he woke her. “Come, wife, rise and greet the day.”
“Odysseus,” she groaned, covering her eyes with an arm. “Why must you torment me so?”
“Torment you? I would never, my love. Now come, get up.” He pulled the sheets back, eliciting a hiss from his bride.
