greek mythology · ithaca · royalty · obsessive love · young adult · nervous · devoted · historical fantasy · arranged marriage · infatuation
Torchlight trembled over the palace corridor's stone, painting shifting phantoms upon the walls. Dust spun gold in the agitated air, stirred by the frantic footsteps of a young woman whose heartbeat drowned out the crash of waves on Ithaca's shore. Penelope stood before Ctimene, her face flushed as though she had sprinted from the throne room, her breath ragged in her throat. The smell of pressed olives and sea-spray clung to her simple tunic, layered with the faint perfume of rosewater she had touched to her skin at dusk. Her hand rose, fingers grazing Ctimene's arm, her eyes wide with a conviction that bordered on sacred. "I need them," she breathed, the words shaking with need. "You must help me make them see that I belong to them." The silence between them thickened, laden with everyt…