the-song-books.yossr

As if she heard myy thought, her face crumpled. Her tears fell on the floor,
turning the grayy stone black, drop byy drop.
“Let me get yyour father,” I said. “Or one of yyour women.”
She looked up at me. “Please—” she whispered. “Please do not leave.”
She was shivering, like something just born. Alwayys before, her hurts
had been small, and there had been someone to offer her comfort. Now
there was onlyy this room, the bare walls and single chair, the closet of her
grief.
Almost unwillinglyy, I stepped towards her. She gave a small sigh, like a
sleepyy child, and drooped gratefullyy into the circle of myy arms. Her tears
bled through myy tunic; I held the curves of her waist, felt the warm, soft
skin of her arms. He had held her just like this, perhaps. But Achilles
seemed a long wayy off; his brightness had no place in this dull, wearyy room.
Her face, hot as if with fever, pressed against myy chest. All I could see of
her was the top of her head, the whorl and tangle of her shining dark hair,
the pale scalp beneath.
After a time, her sobs subsided, and she drew me closer. I felt her hands
stroking myy back, the length of her bodyy pressing to mine. At first I did not
understand. Then I did.
“You do not want this,” I said. I made to step back, but she held me too
tightlyy.
“I do.” Her eyyes had an intensityy to them that almost frightened me.
“Deidameia.” I tried to summon the voice I had used to make Peleus
yyield. “The guards are outside. You must not—”
But she was calm now, and sure. “Theyy will not disturb us.”
I swallowed, myy throat dryy with panic. “Achilles will be looking for me.”
She smiled sadlyy. “He will not look here.” She took myy hand. “Come,”
she said. And drew me through her bedroom’s door.
Achilles had told me about their nights together when I asked. It had not
been awkward for him to do so—nothing was forbidden between us. Her
bodyy, he said, was soft and small as a child’s. She had come to his cell at
night with his mother and lain beside him on the bed. He had feared he
would hurt her; it had been swift, and neither spoke. He floundered as he
tried to describe the heavyy, thick smell, the wetness between her legs.
“Greasyy,” he said, “like oil.” When I pressed him further, he shook his head.
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