Excerpt from Clytemnestra by Costanza Casati, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Clytemnestra can't take her eyes off the stranger. The man looks young and different from every other guest. His hair is as black as obsidian and his eyes turquoise, like the most precious gems. Tyndareus introduced him as the King of Maeonia, a land in the east, far across the sea. Men like him are called barbaroi in Greece, people ruled by despots, who live with neither freedom nor reason. Clytemnestra wonders if kings fight their own battles in Maeonia, as they do in Sparta. It doesn't seem so, for the stranger's arms are smooth, quite different from the scarred bodies of the Spartans around him.

The table is laid with rare delicacies—goat and sheep meat, onions, pears and figs, honeyed flatbreads—but Clytemnestra doesn't want to eat. The King of Maeonia is talking to Helen, who is seated beside him. When he makes her laugh, he stares straight at Clytemnestra.

She looks away as her father speaks, addressing the stranger over the loud chatter: "Tell me, Tantalus, are the women in your homeland as beautiful as they say?"

Is Tyndareus trying to arrange a marriage? Sparta rarely has guests from such faraway lands, and the King of Maeonia must be very wealthy. Tantalus doesn't blink. He smiles, and two small lines appear at the corners of his eyes.

"They are, but nothing like the beauty you find here in Sparta." He looks at Clytemnestra once more. This time she stares back, her heart racing as though she were running. She can almost feel Castor smirking at the other end of the table.

"Your women possess the most precious beauty of all: strength of body and character."

Tyndareus raises his cup. "To the women of Sparta," he says.

Everyone echoes his words, and the golden cups shine in the light of the lamps.

* * *

The sun sets late in summer. Standing on the terrace in front of the main hall, Clytemnestra looks at the mountains to the west and the east. Their peaks are perfectly outlined against the orange sky, then slowly become blurred, melting into the growing darkness. When she hears steps approaching behind her, she doesn't turn. Tantalus appears next to her, as she hoped he would. She wanted him to follow her, but now she doesn't know what to say. So she waits. When she turns to him he is staring at the golden earrings that graze her neck and shoulders as they swing. They are in the shape of big anemones.

"Do you know the origin of windflowers?" he says, breaking the silence. His voice is warm, his skin as dark as oak.

"We call them anemones," replies Clytemnestra.

"Anemones," he repeats. "They were created by the goddess Aphrodite from the blood of Adonis, the boy she was in love with."

"I know what happened. Adonis was slain by a wild boar."

Tantalus frowns. "The boy dies but the goddess's love for him remains. It is a reminder of beauty and resistance in times of adversity."

"That is true, but Adonis is dead, and no flower can replace him."

Tantalus smiles. "You truly are a strange woman."

I am not strange, Clytemnestra wants to say, but she keeps silent, her breath held.

"Your father says you are as wise as a mature woman can be, and when I ask your sister about you, she says you always know what you want."

Clytemnestra tilts her head. "That would be enviable, even for a man."

Tantalus's smile disappears and she fears he will walk away from her. But then he reaches for her hair. He touches her plaits, finds her neck. His hand on her is like a flame, yet she wants more of it. She takes one step forward, close enough to feel his heat. Desire runs through her, but she can't come closer. He is a stranger, after all. They are still, the world moving around them.

The shadows grow longer on the terrace. Everything around them is soft, fading, as the skies merge with the earth, and their faces dissolve, like fleeting breath.

Excerpted from Clytemnestra by Costanza Casati. Copyright © 2023 by Costanza Casati. Excerpted by permission of Sourcebooks. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.