Page 73 of Odette's Vow

She had to be toying with me. Here I was, my knees pressed into the stone floor of her chamber, the weight of the year spent on Aeaea grounding me down to …this. “No,” I gritted out.

Circe’s eyes softened with a sadness I hadn’t expected. “Odysseus,” she murmured, her voice carrying a trace of regret. “I truly thought you would find happiness here. Just as I did, in time.” She reached out, her fingers brushing my cheek, and for a moment, I saw the loneliness she tried so hard to mask. “I was miserable when I was first exiled to this island. I thought, in time, you would understand. That you would enjoy making a life here, as I did.”

Her words stung, not because they were false, but because they weren’t. Part of me had wondered if this was how it would end, if I would be trapped here, losing myself to her and this cursed paradise.

But then, there was Odette. Odette, who had withered in this place, whose spirit had been crushed under the weight of her own despair. I could not, would not, let that be our fate.

“Please, Circe,” I whispered. “Let us go.”

She withdrew her hand, her gaze hardening as she retreated into the role of the witch once more. But even then, I saw the cracks in her armour – the flicker of hesitation, the pain she concealed so well. “Us?”

“The men, the women, all of us who wish to return to Ithaca.”

“You mean Odette,” she accused.

I kept my head bowed, begging, praying to the gods that something would be able to sway her.

Circe laughed and a cold dread settled in my chest. “You think her heart is bound as yours is – but it is not. There are whispers that cling to her, promises made that cannot be broken. I cannot speak of it, except to say that saving her will cost you, and despite what you may think of me, I know you, Odysseus. This is a cost you will not want to pay.”

“Tell me, Circe. Let me be the decider of that.”

She sighed, and when she eventually spoke again, her voice was quiet, almost resigned. “You will not understand until you experience it, I suppose. Such is the way with mortals. Very well. If you wish to leave, Odysseus, you may do so if you make this one vow,” she said, her tone now firm. “Swear that when your journey is done, you will return to me.”

She gave no date; there would be loopholes to work around this vow.

“Very well, I swear it.”

“And … a final sacrifice,” she said, her tone testing, as if she was trying one last time to get me to stay. As if she truly cared. “Six of your men and women must remain here. The rest I will return to you, to help man the ship that will take you back to Ithaca.”

My head remained lowered, the enormity of her demand sinking onto my shoulders. Would I really sacrifice six lives for my own freedom? For Odette’s?

Gods forgive me, I knew the answer.

25

Odette

Idid not know what he did to get us off this island; I did not want to know. All I could say was I was grateful to be sailing away from the plush jungle forest that was Aeaea.

The ludicrous thought made bubbles of laughter want to escape my throat.

Would I have ever imagined saying such a thing a year ago when we were stuck at sea?

No.

But beauty like that of Aeaea was as much a prison as being a woman. No wonder Circe was so bitter, trapped in a gilded prison of her own design. Nothing could truly get in and nothing could get out. The ecological system on the outside was no match for what went on within a woman, particularly one like Circe.

No wonder Gaia was the birther of the gods.

As the island grew smaller on the horizon, the wind, which had once carried us so rapidly away, now seemed to hesitate. I stood at the edge of the ship, as I had only a year ago, gripping the rusted railing as the waves rolled beneath us, the sea shimmering with a promise of something else to come, something always just out of reach, no matter how far we sailed.

Suddenly, I felt the warmth of Odysseus’ body press against mine. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his hands settling on my waist as he pulled me close. The roughness of his tunic brushed against my back, and his breath was hot against my ear as he leaned in.

“We’re finally free,” he whispered, his voice low and intimate, a private murmur meant only for me. “Aeaea is behind us, and soon Ithaca will be before us.”

His words were meant to comfort, to assure me that this was what I had wanted, what I had fought for. But they felt like a weight pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. The island was behind us, but the memories, the scars, the vows still clung to us, trailing like shadows we could never outrun.

I remained silent, staring out at the darkening sea as his arms tightened around me, his hold possessive yet gentle. “Odette,” he murmured, his voice softer now, as if coaxing a response from me, trying to pull me from the depths of my own mind. “It’s over. We’re going home.”

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