Page 15 of Elysium
PENELOPE STOOD TO THE SIDE of the audience chamber, head bowed, just as she had been taught.
She kept her eyes trained on the uneven cobblestone before her, waiting.
The tension in the room was thick, and she was afraid she knew what was coming to pass.
Several days had passed since the Ithacan King had won the footrace, since he made a spectacle in front of the kingdom.
She hadn’t seen him since. She waited, fingers twisting in her dress as she attempted to steady her nerves.
Her betrothed sauntered into the room, grinning ear to ear as his hand rested lazily on the sword at his hip.
He was walking into a pit of vipers, and yet — it rolled right off of him.
“Good afternoon, King of Ithaca,” her father offered, sneering.
“You seem to have lost your way back to your small island, haven’t you?
What brings you here today, to my chamber? ”
“Why, I’ve come to collect my bride, Icarius.” Odysseus replied coolly. His voice remained level, but his eyes attempted to cut through her father. “You’ve strung me about long enough, Spartan. I will take what I am owed.” He punctuated his last statement with a wide grin, bowing to Icarius.
“A footrace to win a bride. A charming concept for children and poets, I suppose,” Icarius responded, not standing from his seat.
He waved a hand toward the Ithacan king, lazily dismissing him.
“This is Sparta, where alliances are forged through strength and spears. What power does Ithaca hold that makes my daughter worth such a risky gamble?”
While Odysseus’s smile never faltered, the tension turned sharp as Icarius insulted him, insulted his kingdom. “A clever king guides ships and swords alike. Cleverness endures when armies fail. I offer a kingdom that bends, but not breaks, your grace.” Disdain dripped from his every word.
“Your clever tongue may have charmed my na?ve, inexperienced daughter, King of Ithaca, but it won’t win her hand. I have no needs for cleverness, King of Riddles. I think I’ll keep her here.”
“Then perhaps it is not her hand you should put on such a pedestal.” His voice lowered, eyes softened.
“But it is her heart and her mind that would bring a true king honor.” His eyes flicked to Penelope, gentling slightly.
“A heart built to weather storms, and a mind fit to find truths when they are concealed.”
Her heart lurched; no one had ever spoken about her the way Odysseus did. Penelope had never been spoken to the way he dared to speak to her in front of her father. She dared a glance at the Ithacan King, but her father's harsh words brought her back.
“A simple girl, easily swayed by your honeyed words.” Icarius spat, standing now. Penelope could feel the anger roiling off of him. “That is no queen.”
“You think her simple because she dares not raise her voice at you, Spartan.” Odysseus responded, leaving no air left in the room. He took a step closer. “A foolish king is the one who silences wisdom.”
She clutched at her skirt, feeling her blood hum with something… unfamiliar. The feeling of possibility coursed through her veins. A voice she didn’t know she had pressed her out of silence. “Father, you promised.” The words trembled on her lips, scarcely more than a whisper.
“Silence, girl. I will have the final say.”
Penelope shook at his dismissal, weighing heavy on her shoulders. But then, reminded of the confidence in Odysseus’ voice, the gentleness he carried, she spoke again. “You have the final say… because you fear what I might choose.” The words surprised even her.
Icarius spun on her, and she could see the rage in his eyes. Fear bubbled up inside of her, but she steadied herself, looking past the man that had raised her, and to the man that willingly claimed her.
“I choose Ithaca, father.” Her voice no longer wavered, each word landing like a stone.
Her eyes locked with the young king, heart pounding relentlessly in her chest.
She would never forget the grin that unfurled at her declaration, slow and triumphant. A fire igniting between them that even the gods would fail to extinguish.