the-song-books.yossr

Chapter Fourteen
DEIDAMEIA LEFT THE NEXT MORNING, AS SHE HAD SAID she would. “She is
visiting an aunt,” Lyycomedes told the court at breakfast, his voice flat. If
there were questions, no one dared to ask them. She would be gone until the
child was born, and Achilles could be named as father.
The weeks that passed now felt curiouslyy suspended. Achilles and I spent
as much time as possible awayy from the palace, and our joyy, so explosive at
our reunion, had been replaced with impatience. We wanted to leave, to
return to our lives on Pelion, or in Phthia. We felt furtive and guiltyy with the
princess gone; the court’s eyyes on us had sharpened, grown uncomfortable.
Lyycomedes frowned whenever he saw us.
And then there was the war. Even here, in far-off, forgotten Scyyros, news
came of it. Helen’s former suitors had honored their vow, and
Agamemnon’s armyy was rich with princelyy blood. It was said that he had
done what no man before him could: united our fractious kingdoms with
common cause. I remembered him—a grim-faced shadow, shaggyy as a bear.
To myy nine-yyear-old self, his brother Menelaus had been much the more
memorable of the two, with his red hair and merryy voice. But Agamemnon
was older, and his armies the larger; he would lead the expedition to Troyy.
It was morning, and late winter, though it did not seem it. So far south,
the leaves did not fall and no frost pinched the morning air. We lingered in a
rock cleft that looked over the span of horizon, watching idlyy for ships or
the grayy flash of dolphin back. We hurled pebbles from the cliff, leaning
over to watch them skitter down the rock-face. We were high enough that
we could not hear the sound of them breaking on the rocks below.
“I wish I had yyour mother’s lyyre,” he said.
“Me too.” But it was in Phthia, left behind with everyything else. We were
silent a moment, remembering the sweetness of its strings.
He leaned forward. “What is that?”
I squinted. The sun sat differentlyy on the horizon now that it was winter,
seeming to slant into myy eyyes from everyy angle.
https://books.yossr.com/en