And — no one knew Odysseus like her.
Hades could claim he was selfish, but he only knew Odysseus without Penelope. Perhaps that man was selfish… but the man she knew, the man she loved, would do anything to keep her safe.
He would cross into the underworld every night if it meant she was safe, alive, in Ithaca.
“Even you are unsure, girl. Listen to the fear in your voice.” He looked over his shoulder as he continued. “You would risk a lifetime of torture for the most close-fisted man I have had the misfortune of knowing in several millennia?”
She had him. He was circling now. She had to loose the arrow. “Yes, Hades. I would. That’s my deal.”
“Fine,” he turned to face her again, watching her closely. “But, you should know… I am not Hermes, I am not Zeus. My accords cannot be sealed with a handshake or an offering…” A twisted grin stretched across his features. “I demand sacrifice. Of your blood.”
Her eyes widened again, finally looking at her father in the corner. “You have until the sun sets, queen. Spill your own blood, or the deal will be void. Your vow will cover your foolish husband, as long ashekeeps his end of our deal.”
Penelope gasped, shaking her head. “My own blood?”
“Your son,” the god suggested, still grinning. He tilted his head as he watched the queen.
Penelope picked the forgotten dagger up, palming it in her hand. “I have until sunset?” She asked, staring at the weapon.
“Yes.”
“Wait-” she said, reaching out.
“Going back already?”
“Oh, no,” she said, closing the distance between her and her father in seconds. Without another thought, she drove the dagger into his abdomen, eyes never leaving his as she watched shock, and then fear, flicker across his face.
“Penelope-” He rasped, blood staining his night clothes.
“Queen of Ithaca…” Hades heeded from behind her, his voice lower than it had been. “I never pegged you for such cruelty. Not even a spare thought for your father?”
“Raise him from the dead and I will do it again, Hades. There is no price I will not pay for my husband.” The dagger clattered to the ground, blood speckling the floor. “Do we have a deal?”
The god of the underworld smiled. “I suppose we do, little queen.”
48
HER EYES OPENED SLOWLY, rebelling against the way the sun shined brightly on her face. She could feel the tension in the air, even sequestered in their bedroom. She could tell someone had found Icarius… and the mess she left behind.
The space beside her was empty, cold. Odysseus had woken long before she had. She smiled inwardly to herself. She never got to wake up this long after him. He was a boisterous morning person, waking her with gentle kisses, longing touches.
He would be back, though. If he and their son were dealing with the fallout from her choices last night, he would come for her.
A small spark of excitement flared in her chest at the thought of him coming to handle her reckoning.
Penelope sat up in the bed, taking a deep breath. She sat with the emotions that should have been tethered to her chest, searching for remorse, pain, agony.
She found none.
She heard his footsteps before he even made it to the door. She ran a hand through her ragged locks, steadying herself. As he pushed the door open, his eyes met hers with an almost feral fire. “Wife…” he said, his voice dark.
“Good morning, husband.” Penelope chirped in response, crooking a finger, beckoning him to her. He shook his head, eyes narrow as he took a deliberate step towards her, then another.
“It’s strange, wife…” the king mused, taking yet another slow step to where she lay. “Someone foundmydagger in your father’s room.” Another step. “Where your father was found.” Another. “Dead.”
“Oh no,” Penelope feigned upset, pressing her hand to her chest. She pouted, furrowing her brows as she watched her husband pace the room.
“What did you do?” He asked, stopping at the foot of the bed. A thrill ran through her as he leaned over the footboard, hands grasping at the olive wood branch. His knuckles were white.
