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

She waits a moment before replying. "My grandmother once said I was born to rule."

Tantalus smiles. "All rulers must learn how to follow before they can lead."

"Have you spent a long time following others? Before you were king?"

He laughs and takes her hand. Her skin burns under his touch. Then he lets go and eats while the room fills with drunken chatter.

When the sun sinks into the dry land, the hall grows quieter. The housedogs are eating the leftovers on the floor. Dirty plates, bowls, and cups half filled with wine litter the table. Leda and Tyndareus have already disappeared to their quarters, and now the last drunken nobles are stumbling away, dragging their wives with them.

It is dark outside, but the high-roofed hall is still lit. Castor hands Tantalus a golden jug, a mischievous smile on his face. "Drink some more."

He takes it. "If you're trying to get me drunk, you will find it hard."

"Do you drink much in Maeonia?" Helen asks. She is lying on the wooden bench, her head on Polydeuces's lap.

"We drink to death," Tantalus replies. Castor and Clytemnestra laugh. She is walking around the hall, in and out of the brightness of the torches. Tantalus's gaze follows her.

"Then we can't let our sister come with you," Castor says. "We don't want her to die from drinking too much wine."

Clytemnestra's cheeks burn, but she smiles. "You shouldn't worry, Castor. You know very well that I can fight you even after two jugs."

Castor leaps closer to her and tries to lift her, jokingly, but she takes his arm and bends it behind his back. He laughs, pushes her away.

Helen yawns, and Polydeuces stands. "I'm going to bed," he says. A dark-haired servant steps into the room, looking at him hopefully, as if she were waiting for him to take her. He ignores her, holding out his hand for Helen.

"Well, I am going too," Castor says, walking in the servant's direction. "It seems I might have company tonight after all."

Helen lingers by the door, looking at Clytemnestra and Tantalus. She opens her mouth as if to say something but closes it and takes Polydeuces's hand. They leave together, Helen's head turning one more time before they disappear beyond the door.

Clytemnestra leans against the wall, Tantalus's eyes on her. Now there are only the two of them, facing each other. She waits, still under the light of a torch, and he comes to her. When he is close enough to touch her, he speaks so softly his words feel like a breath.

"Tell me what you want, Clytemnestra." She bites her lip, quiet, so he adds, "I will go too, if that is what you wish."

He understands that she likes power, and he is giving it to her. She wonders if it is a trick, a game he is playing. But even if it is, she doesn't care. She is good at games, and she can play this one.

"Stay," she says.

* * *

She has been with a man already, a boy not much older than her. It was during a village feast, a summer night. The stars covered the sky vault and illuminated the villagers as they danced and jumped on the yellow grass. Helen, Clytemnestra, Castor, and Polydeuces had watched the dance, captivated by the thud of feet, the paint on the villagers' faces. Then Helen was clapping and singing to the rhythm, and soon the four were dancing, holding each other's hands, laughing.

Afterward they drank until the stars were spinning and the paint on the villagers seemed like a dream. Helen and Polydeuces continued dancing together, while Castor vanished with the village beauty, an older girl with big eyes, like the goddess Era. A boy with dark curls took Clytemnestra's hand, and they ran and hid among the tall grass, their bodies light with excitement.

After, as they shivered beneath the silent moon, pleasure slowly fading, the boy asked if he could see her again. She shook her head. She could smell the odors of fig trees and mud, jasmine and sweat. The boy fell asleep quickly, and she left him there, dreaming under the trees.

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.