For the first time in days, Psyche felt her spirits start to lift. At last, something happy in this home filled with so much despair. A glance at her mother suggested that she was also stunned but not at all displeased. She saw her mother look towards the door Psyche hid behind, a glint in her eye. Lucius, she suspected, will be a welcomed son-in-law in no time at all.
That evening, Claudia could not stop chattering about how handsome and charming Lucius was that evening. She claimed that, due to their father’s illness, she had lost quite a bit of weight and had looked especially comely during the funeral proceedings. She suspected that it was the reason Lucius began paying her special attention. Then, she agonized over whether she was looking too deeply into things. What did Psyche think? Was he not especially attentive? And what did she think he meant when he told her she looked well? And did she notice how his arm accidentally brushed hers as he was getting up to leave? Was it really an accident? And on it went, distracting Psyche and her mother from thinking about less pleasant thoughts. There was no more talk of Claudia leaving Bromeia after that.
When it was time for Psyche to return to her palace, she knew that the tears would be short lived and that Claudia and her mother would be well taken care of and their lives would be full of hope and happiness.
As Psyche stood on the cliff for the second time, saying farewell again to her mother and sister, her heart felt heavy.
Hermena asked if she had the dagger.
Psyche hesitated, and then showed it to Hermena who nodded in satisfaction.
“You cannot be with a man if you cannot know him,” her mother told her. “I know I have been hard on you, and the gods know I’ve suffered for it. But the reason why I preferred certain men for you, Psyche, is because I knew them to be manageable. That’s all I wanted for you. Someone that you would not have to suffer the humiliation of loving.”
The hardness in her voice pained Psyche. “But, mama, how is love humiliating?”
“How is it not? You give up everything for a man, your status, your name, your independence, and he cares not about such things. He controls you with his love. And all you can do is follow him, mindlessly. How is that not humiliating? A woman like you should be able to command her husband. To control him.”
“But mama, that is not what I want. I want someone who is my equal. Someone who can give and take.”
Hermena looked at her daughter cynically. “Then why go back? To a being you are not even allowed to see?”
Psyche did not respond, but looked back towards the cliffs.
“You are young and naive about the ways of the world, my child. I have tried my best to educate you but there was just not enough time. Don’t just give away your trust. Don’t forget what that scoundrel Erik did to you. Have you not had enough of deceit? You deserve to know your husband.”
“And I will. When the time is right.”
“Because he told you? When will that time be? When he decides it is right? On his terms? How is this equal?”
“Mother, I do not expect you to understand.”
“Don’t take that patronizing tone with me! I am your mother. Admit it, you do not wish to know who he is, because you are afraid of the truth. This way, you can pretend he is anything you want.”
Psyche shook her head. “That is not true.”
“It is a cowardly way.”
“I will not be goaded by you, mother!”
“Just look. A brief glimpse, to assure yourself he is not a monster who will devour you. You deserve to have that assurance.”
Psyche closed her eyes, willing herself to be patient. “I already know he isn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do!”
“Fool girl!” Hermena’s voice shattered the evening sky. “Be gone then! You will always be taken for a fool, Psyche. Use your brain instead for once! There is no use trying to reason with you. I do believe you deserve what’s coming to you.”
Psyche sighed as she watched her mother stride away, knowing she may never see her again. Not the warmest of parting words, but it was her mother’s way.
Psyche was surprised when Claudia approached her. She reached out and touched Psyche’s hand.
“You look very pretty today, Psyche.”
Psyche smiled, surprised by the sweetness of Claudia’s voice.
“Mother has been through so much. But we will be all right here, you needn’t worry. I will take care of her.”
“Thank you, Claudia.”
Before she turned to go, she stopped and looked back. “I think... I think he must be a good man, for letting you come back, even if just for a little bit.”
Psyche watched as Claudia disappeared into the forest.
Eros listened to the conversation on the shield at the palace of Hermes. Hermes was sleeping on his couch and dawn was starting to break.
Psyche’s mother’s harsh words reminded Eros that Psyche had much to be unhappy about. It was amazing how Hermena could twist something so beautiful into something so dreadful. Love was a gift. Never was he more certain of it than now.
Eros watched Psyche hesitate on the hill, looking after her mother and sister with stricken eyes. It was not too late. She could still run. Zephyr had not arrived yet.
Psyche was approaching the edge of the cliff. Eros stiffened. If only he could read her mind. What was she thinking?
She stood at the very edge of the cliff. He could tell she was taking very deep breaths. What was she doing? If she jumped, what would he do? He would have to catch her. But he didn’t know if he would reach her in time. But why? Why would she? Was she so unhappy? Was she so afraid?
Then he saw her take out something. Eros’s blood turned cold. It was a knife. Not just any knife. It was a knife designed to harm immortals. Where did she get such a thing?
Then he remembered Hermes’s ambiguous words yesterday.You are never wrong when you wrong me. Eros clenched his teeth, looking at his wily friend snoring on the couch.
Psyche was looking at the knife, unsheathing it and sheathing it again.
It was a knife made by Hephaestus. All immortal weapons had the power to wound an immortal, but not to kill. No immortal can be killed. But wounds inflicted with these weapons could take a very long time to heal. Eros did not look forward to ever being stabbed by a knife like that. But then, if he acted appropriately, he need never worry. The more Eros thought about it, the less he worried. Perhaps, the dagger could give Psyche much needed peace of mind. Perhaps, she needed it to assuage her fears.
Poor Psyche. Had Eros had any foresight, he should have offered her such a weapon himself, and explained to her that she could always use it if she feared his intent. Now that she had the knife, he would not begrudge it. She should not ever have to use it. Not on him, not ever. She should keep it, if it gave her comfort.
Suddenly, she lifted her arms and swung. For a moment, Eros watched, his mouth dry as the dagger arched perfectly over the cliff, disappearing into the forest, barely stirring a leaf.
Eros couldn’t believe what he just saw. The dagger was her safety net, her security.
And she had tossed it over a cliff.
Eros knew then, he would never doubt her again.
Chapter 18
Psyche smiled, satisfied with the way the dagger’s weight seemed completely lifted from her. She was glad she flung it. She made her decision to return to her husband and return she would, without fear, without doubt. If he killed her, then let Hades be her judge. And let the gods be his. Psyche knew her heart. And she knew it never wanted to hurt him.
She waited for the voice of Zephyr. For a moment, she looked down upon Bromeia, suspecting that it would be the last time she would see the land for a very long time. At least, until her husband ate her, she mused, or so her mother wanted her to believe. But why was he hiding himself from her? She did not think it was because of any of the reasons her mother suggested, but there had to be some reason. Perhaps, he truly was hideous and he wanted h
er to love him despite his lack of beauty. If that were the case, then he was very close to accomplishing this. She did not think there was any look that could make her dislike him. But then, perhaps this was naive of her.
Soon, she felt the breeze pick up. The familiar swirling no longer filled her with dread and fear. When Zephyr came, Psyche was able to enjoy the ride much more, knowing that she was leaving a place with such dark melancholy memories and returning to the one person who knew her well. She only wished she knew him just as well.
Psyche did not know why she was so nervous to see her husband that evening. She dressed with care, determined to get closer to him, and scented her neck. It was always so poorly lit when they were together, she did not know why she bothered with her appearance, but scents were something she knew could entice him.
By the time she heard the door at the dining hall open and close, her skirts were wrinkled from her wringing. She immediately smoothed them with embarrassingly moist hands.
When she felt him to be in the room, she smiled deep into the darkness. She thought she heard a sigh and she sensed how much he had missed her.
“Is it you?” she murmured, just to make sure.
“Yes,” said the shadowy corner.
“Say nothing,” she spoke and stepped forward. “Let me touch you.”
She felt him hesitate. She began to approach the shadows. “I know you don’t trust me.”
“That is not it.”
“We will stay in the darkness for however long you wish. But don’t deny me the pleasure of touching you. I’ve been gone for too long. I have missed you too much. How else can I show you that I am not afraid if you won’t allow me?”
“It is not you I don’t trust.”
Psyche paused, thinking about the statement, peering deep into the darkness at the shadowy figure she was sure had to be a man. “Then, it is yourself you don’t trust.” Psyche was getting closer. She was now only an arms length away from him and he was backed up against the corner. He could have moved away. He could have escaped, but she sensed that deep inside, he did not really want to. “Will touching me do you some kind of harm? Are mortals some type of poison for your kind?”
She heard a choked laugh. “Not all mortals. Just the ones we fall in love with.”
The words made Psyche’s heart soar to the sky like a Phoenix reborn. The words gave her the confidence to reach out to where she thought his heart might be. She felt something warm, silken, his skin she was certain, and then her fingers brushed the edge of soft, cool cloth. Her heart hammered in her chest. She felt a curling in her stomach at the mere idea that his bare skin was so close to hers.
Psyche decided to tease him. Not seeing his reaction made it much easier for her. She could pretend that everything she did excited him. She knew it was exciting her.
When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “You still love me, then?”
“Desperately.”
Again, her toes curled with pleasure. How easy it was for him to say such things and how hard it was for her to respond in kind. She felt inexplicably shy.
Thankfully, she did not have to say anything. His words continued in a rush. “Psyche, I have been in agony without you. I didn’t...”
Her fingers were trailing up, lightly touching what she thought might be his throat.
He finished with a tormented whisper. “I didn’t think you’d come back.”
Her voice was teasing. “Such little faith you have in me.”
He continued with earnest. “I thought you’d never be fool enough to return. Knowing how little satisfaction I give you.”
“I hope to remedy that.”
Psyche laid her hand flat on what she was certain was a human chest. He seemed to flinch at her touch, and then relaxed. His skin was bare but she thought she felt the whisper of cloth at her wrist. Beneath her hand, pounding heart, a man’s heart. It could be no other. Perhaps, it was a bit stronger than most men’s, more vibrant, but then, she hadn’t had the opportunity to feel that many. Perhaps, the situation was simply making him excited. Goodness knows her own heart was hammering in her chest.
Before she could explore anymore, two warm palms caught her hands. A part of her was relieved, as she did not know if she had the courage to explore much further. And the palms were smooth and warm even though they were much larger than hers. No fur, no scales, she was certain. No monster. And now they were lifting her own tiny fingers up to hot, soft, tender lips. The act was so pure, so loving, Psyche’s fears evaporated.
Unable to contain herself any longer, she pressed her whole body towards him, flinging her free arm around his neck and pressing her face to his chest. Psyche heard a cry so lonesome, so surprised that her heart ached for him, and then suddenly she was surrounded by warmth. His arms had gone around her, as well, in a sweet, passionate embrace. She waited for something horrible to happen, as she suspected that the universe strictly forbade what they were doing, but the only thing that seemed alarming was the growing urge she felt to feel more of him. So she did, with both her hands now, what she wasn’t allowed to do with her eyes. She explored him, trying to decipher every perfect detail.
Psyche ran her hands down his shoulders, his arms, and marveled at the shape that she knew to be a man’s, but what a man’s! She imagined the fine muscles that rippled down his lean arms and when she reached his stomach she felt like she was touching a statue. This could not be true. So far, there could be nothing he would wish to hide from her. Adonis could not have had a body more pristine, Psyche was certain of it. His face, perhaps? A scar or a disfigurement he feared would terrify her.
Instinctively, she reached up from stomach, up his shoulder, and curved her soft hands to his neck, around his jaw, and stroked his cheek. Before she could touch any higher, her hand was suddenly caught. With both hands now trapped in his, Psyche felt a moment of disappointment. Then she felt it. His breath so close to hers. His mouth was only inches away, she was certain. Without another thought, she went on her tippy toes and leaned as far forward as she could until her lips bumped into the area she was certain held his.
The meeting was awkward, but when she found his lips, she felt victorious and allowed herself the pleasure of soft, sweet perfection. She heard a startled noise come from his still sealed mouth that opened with surprise. Boldly, Psyche pressed forward, all the longing and need to be touched culminating in a single kiss. Her hands were suddenly dropped and she felt his arms go around her, pressing her closer. Suddenly, his lips took complete control of the situation, and he kissed her back with an intensity that sent her reeling. His hands were everywhere at once, touching pockets of skin that left her breathless, her skin tingling wherever his fingers trailed.
Then she heard it. A startling flapping sound, like a sail that suddenly caught wind. She felt a distinct breeze that she was only barely aware of, as if someone had opened a window. Perhaps, it was Cordelia? Perhaps, one of the invisible servants realized that the room was rapidly heating up and mercifully opened a window?
Suddenly, he pulled away, but he still clutched her to him. She knew he was staring at her face, looking for something, but she did not know what.
“If we are going to do this, you must promise me you will not try to look upon me.”
“Darling, are we still—”
“Promise me!”
It was the firmest he had even been with her and she jumped. What was he still hiding? Then she felt the stirring inside her, the yearning deep within her that she only knew from one man. Yet, to compare the two feelings was laughable. She thought she had wanted Erik. But she did not know need until this very moment. And she was finally ready to forget him. “I promise.”
She was swooped up then, her body literally lifted from the ground. For a moment, she felt like she was on Zephyr again with an occasional rhythmic breeze. She was carried deep into the blackness. She did not know what passageways he entered, nor did she care. Was he taking her to his lair? The place where he
would finally devour her like her mother warned? At this point, she no longer cared. She pressed her face to the nape of his neck and breathed in the intoxicating scent that she loved so much.
Suddenly, he slowed. His breathing was barely heavy, even though she knew he must have been running. He was gently bringing her down and when her head touched the soft linens, she suspected it was some type of bed. But she wasn’t in her room, she was certain. The smell was different. The temperature was colder. She shivered.
“You’re cold.” His voice was thick. It held a heaviness that was never there before. He desired her, she was certain and it was all he could do to hold himself back.
“Come closer,” she urged boldly, “and you can warm me.”
Instantly he obliged. The dress that she had so carefully chosen for him was sheered away from her before she could blink and suddenly skin was upon skin and her chilly body became inflamed by his touch. Was it possible that his skin was much warmer than hers, as if he had a fever?
She reached around him, bringing herself closer, wrapping her legs around his torso, when suddenly he grabbed her hands again and pushed them high above her head.
“Please, you must not touch me too much.”
“You must be joking! How can I stop?”
“I will give you what you want. You do not have to do anything.”
“But I want to.”
“I know. But not tonight, my precious Psyche. All in time, I promise.” He then began kissing her. But not like before. Not at all like before. They were soft, raindrop kisses all over her face, her cheeks, her nose. Then her neck, her shoulders. They lingered on her breasts where she caught her breath and bit down on her lips to stop the sweet agony. Then he went lower.
Oh, Zeus, not there! After that, she lost all rational thought. The sensation so blissful she was certain she fainted right afterwards. When she floated back to reality, she realized that he was kissing her cheek and neck with deep urgency. She realized that he still needed her.
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