Page 29 of Elysium

THE SALTY brEEZE TUGGED AT PENELOPE’S HAIR as she leaned against the rail of the small ship, her laughter stolen by the sea wind.

“You’re mad, woman.” Odysseus called from the bow of the ship, tugging a rope into its rightful place.

The Ithacan King had charmed a local merchant into borrowing his small vessel, promising to pay the kind soul back in triplicate once reaching Ithacan shores.

“Says the man who raced for my hand in marriage.” Penelope countered quickly, a lithe grin gracing her features. He crossed the watercraft in a matter of steps, cupping the back of her neck and tilting her gaze up to meet his.

“Look where that got me, princess,” his words were low, his lips grazing hers as she spoke. “Out to sea with a woman who has never had to tie a knot to keep a sail aloft in the winds.”

His fingers twisted around the curls that clung to the nape of her neck, damp with sweat and sea salt.

“I’m a quick study, King. Teach me.” She murmured against his lips, pushing herself up on her toes to solidify the kiss between them.

Odysseus’ lips quirked into a grin, one hand drifting to settle on her waist, tugging her against him.

Penelope knew this was reckless, possibly the stupidest thing she had ever done.

But she knew she couldn’t watch this man sail away from her, not until she could crack open everything unspoken between them and find out what drew her to the king.

She was a moth, and he was the flame. She might burn in the process, but she had to feel it for herself.

Her father would riot. She prayed that his rage would not affect Helen and Clytemnestra. But by the time he figured out where she was… perhaps she would already be wed.

“This is reckless,” she muttered, surprised at the words herself. Rarely was she so without poise that her thoughts became words without her permission.

He undid her.

“Maybe,” he responded, pressing his forehead against her own. “I am expected to return home with men and ships, with promises of good fortune, with the kingdom of Sparta.” His thumb pressed against her jaw, following its curve down to her chin. “Not a stolen princess, and a borrowed boat.”

Even as she looked into his eyes now, blue as the oceans they sailed upon, she couldn’t regret her decision. “The gods could strike me down at this moment, Penelope,” he continued, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the flapping of the sail. “I would die the happiest fool alive.”

“Not stolen,” she retorted, her own eyes sparkling with rebellion, “You don’t get to take the credit for my schemes, highness.” She smirked, swatting him playfully on the arm. “Now, teach me. We cannot possibly sail forever.”

Odysseus didn’t move, his gaze fixed on her. The intensity in his eyes sent a twist through Penelope’s stomach. He looked at her like she was something sacred. She couldn’t quite name the emotions etched into his features, but they felt heavy, unshakable.

Permanent.

He took a step backwards, leaning against the mast, his arm stretched behind his head as he watched the stars flicker against the ink-dark sky. The gentle creak of the ship and the rhythmic lapping of the sea against the hull filled the silence between them.

“You see those stars, just there?” He lifted a hand, pointing toward a tight cluster glinting in the heavens. “The Pleiades.”

Penelope followed his gaze, tracing the constellation with her eyes. “Atlas’s daughters,” she murmured. “The ones Orion chased.”

“Aye.” His voice was softer now, contemplative. “They ran, but the gods had their own designs for them. Now they’re bound to the sky, always together, always just out of reach.”

She turned to look at him, his face carved by moonlight, his expression unreadable. “And what does that say for us, king?”

He grinned, something boyish and wicked, as he tilted his head toward her. “I don’t have need of races across the sky, Penelope.” He dropped his voice lower, rougher. “I’ve already caught you.”

She huffed, shaking her head, but she could not suppress the warmth that bloomed in her chest, or the smile that threatened to break. “Let’s hope the gods don’t turn us to dust for it.”

“They can try,” Odysseus said, the twinkle in his eye matching the starlight above them. “But I think I would cross the Styx and back for you, Princess.”