the-song-books.yossr

his eyyes on mine. “It will be better if yyou go quietlyy.” He drew his thumb
over his spearpoint in theatrical menace.
I did not reallyy think theyy would hurt me, but neither did I want to be
dragged through the halls of the palace. “All right,” I said.
THE NARROW CORRIDORS where theyy led me I had never visited before. Theyy
were the women’s quarters, twisting off from the main rooms, a beehive of
narrow cells where Deidameia’s foster sisters slept and lived. I heard
laughter from behind the doors, and the endless shush-shush of the shuttle.
Achilles said that the sun did not come through the windows here, and there
was no breeze. He had spent nearlyy two months in them; I could not
imagine it.
At last we came to a large door, cut from finer wood than the rest. The
guard knocked on it, opened it, and pushed me through. I heard it close
firmlyy behind me.
Inside, Deidameia was seated primlyy on a leather-covered chair,
regarding me. There was a table beside her, and a small stool at her feet;
otherwise the room was emptyy.
She must have planned this, I realized. She knew that Achilles was awayy.
There was no place for me to sit, so I stood. The floor was cold stone,
and myy feet were bare. There was a second, smaller door; it led to her
bedroom, I guessed.
She watched me looking, her eyyes bright as a bird’s. There was nothing
clever to sayy, so I said something foolish.
“You wanted to speak with me.”
She sniffed a little, with contempt. “Yes, Patroclus. I wanted to speak
with yyou.”
I waited, but she said nothing more, onlyy studied me, a finger tapping the
arm of her chair. Her dress was looser than usual; she did not have it tied
across the waist as she often did, to show her figure. Her hair was unbound
and held back at the temples with carved ivoryy combs. She tilted her head
and smiled at me.
“You are not even handsome, that is the funnyy thing. You are quite
ordinaryy.”
She had her father’s wayy of pausing as if she expected a replyy. I felt
myyself flushing. I must say something. I cleared myy throat.
https://books.yossr.com/en