my husband has come for me Picture

I made some sort of sound, the breath jumping in my throat. It was quiet, but it was enough. The girl’s eyes flicked to me.

Several things happened at once then. Achilles — for it was Achilles — dropped Deidameida’s hand and flung himself joyously at me, knocking me backwards with the force of his embrace. Deidameida screamed, “Pyrrha!” and burst into tears. Lycomedes, who was not so far into dotage as his daughter had led me to believe, stood.

“Pyrrha, what is the meaning of this?”

I barely heard. Achilles and I clutched each other, almost incoherent with relief.


The Song of Achilles » Madeline Miller
Continue Reading: Achilles