Her next words were tentative, a little breathless. “You surely made an impression on my uncle.” She managed to get out around the ball of anticipation in her throat. “Your… protection oath for Helen has been all but put into ink.” Shesearched his face, trying to find any clue to what he was thinking.
“I’d like to go back to when you were talking about my mouth,” Odysseus replied, his voice dripping with a teasing warmth. “Politics has no place in this midnight rendezvous.”
“Your grace,” she spluttered, inhaling sharply through her nose. “This is highly inappropriate.” Her mind reeled at his closeness, the smell of him surrounding her.
“Is it? Or are you just finding it difficult to focus with me so close?” Odysseus’s lips quirked into a knowing smile, his gaze darkening ever so slightly.
She didn’t miss the way his voice had dropped to a whisper, or how he moved even closer still. “Is this…” She searched for her footing. She had never found her skin so charged, never felt so… exposed.
“Is this how you charm all the Spartan women?” She asked, fighting to keep her voice steady. Her father would call her reckless. Odysseus leaned in closer, his breath warm against her cheek. “With riddles and a roguish grin?”
“Only the ones that aren’t easily swayed by goats and gems.” He responded quickly, grin stretching. Penelope’s head was spinning in this game of wits she had found herself in. “Helen can have her treasures. I’d take a sharp tongue and a sharper mind any day.” His eyes bore into hers, charged with emotion.
Her eyes darted to his lips as they parted slightly, and he exhaled as he studied her. Blush crept up her neck, and her heart fluttered under his intense gaze. “You’re staring,” she whispered, begging him to look away. She was caught in his eyes.
“I know.” His voice softened. “I’ve wanted to do this since I laid my eyes on you.” He muttered, moving all at once. His hands found her waist, the fabric of her dress twisting beneathhis fingers. He pulled her in, and his lips brushed hers, setting fire to the breath in her lungs.
Penelope froze underneath his touch. It defied all sense, but this felt more real than anything she had ever touched. Her hands unfurled from fists and found his wide shoulders, broad and steady, and she let herself pull him closer.
She held him there, or maybe he held her. It was impossible to tell as time stood still on that beach. His lips moved expertly against her mouth, easily taking the lead. She melted against him, her breath hitching as his lips claimed hers. His hands steadied her, as though anchoring them both in a moment they could no longer escape.
When she finally pulled away, a roguish grin was plastered on the king’s face. It felt impossible, but she felt her face flush even deeper than before. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, attempting to pull out of his embrace. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Odysseus laughed again. She felt his entire being shake with mirth. “You will be mine, Penelope of Sparta.” He looked at her, features filled with determination. “Penelope…” He whispered her name, a vow and a promise. His hand cradled her cheek as though holding the entire world in his palm.
8
“PENELOPE!” The call came again, louder, sharper. The scent of the ocean air dissolved into the smoke of torches, and the warmth of his touch vanished into the night breeze. The music swelled, laughter echoing against the courtyard stones.
She blinked, her heart still caught in the throes of memories. And there he was, the man from her past, grinning like he held the world in his pocket, the man who had whispered her name as a promise so many years ago.
The man who defied the gods to be back at her side.
She shook off the remnants of the past and gave the revelry her full attention. The memory still warmed her bones, but memory was a softer lover than time. Time carved lines into his face and left silence between breaths where there had once been only laughter. She did not know how to bridge that distance, but tonight was not for bridges. Tonight was for celebration.
At the festival’s edge, shadows whispered. Heads bowed together, hands gesturing sharply. The songs and laughter dulled their murmurs, but Penelope’s gaze tracked the movements of men who would not meet her eye. Shadows that would linger long after the lanterns dimmed.
The smell of roasted lamb and sweet wine filled the air as she made her way across the courtyard. She smiled as children darted between the tables, their laughter filling the space with the comforts of home and family.
She was steps away from Odysseus when a sudden chill brushed her bare arms, sending a shiver up her spine. She looked out to the horizon, expecting to see a storm forming over the sea. But there were no clouds, only the whisper of waves yet to crash on the shores.
The music crescendoed through the evening air, inviting men and women of all ages to come together in the courtyard, coaxing all to lay the stresses of the last twenty years on the ground and embrace the next chapter of Ithaca.
Odysseus caught her eye with a gentle smile, holding a hand out in invitation. The lanterns above covered the atrium in a warm glow, shadows a stranger in their light. She reached for him, his hand finding hers. Her body instantly felt at ease, a feeling she had been certain she would never feel again. He smiled at her, and for a moment, she could be that young and naive girl on the beach, falling head over heels with a king under the stars.
As he guided her into dance, his hand rested firmly on her waist, the pressure steady and sure. Her feet found the rhythm easily, her body remembering steps they hadn’t shared in decades. Each moment between them was a rediscovery, each brush of his fingers across her skin, a memory reconnecting their hearts. She closed her eyes, her entire world shrinking to the curve of his arms and the warmth of his breath.
She smiled as he twirled her, laughter she had thought lost floating over the treetops and away with the breeze. Beneath the joy, there was a fragility in her breath, a tremor in her heart. How many times had she imagined this moment? How manytimes had she buried it deep, hardening her heart to the hope of reconnection?
Penelope held tighter to his hand, afraid to let go, afraid of how easily the dreams seemed to slip through her fingers. Her husband’s touch seemed to echo her sentiments, fingers clutching her just a little tighter. “I love you.” She whispered into the night, resting her head on his shoulder. Instead of prayers for his return now, she begged the gods to freeze time. To let her live in this moment in the safety of his arms.
As the music slowed, she lost herself in the feeling of his heartbeat against her cheek. They had stopped moving, even as the music pulsed around them. His arms tightened around her, one hand coming to tangle in her hair, holding her close. “Penelope…” He started, longing pulling at his word, but he tensed beneath her before he could continue.
The lanterns above them flickered, a chill falling over the courtyard, and a breeze rustled the surrounding trees.
A low scraping sound cut through the sound of the music, the unmistakable sound of an oar dragging across stone. It wasn’t just noise; it shook the very ground beneath their feet. Penelope couldn’t locate it. It wasn’t in one place, it rang throughout the courtyard. The music faltered… Swallowed whole by an all consuming darkness.
“Odysseus…”
