I raced to him, grabbing him in my arms and holding onto him tight. Shocked into silence as I held my sobbing nephew, unprepared for the rawness of his emotions to come pouring out of him in this manner.
I shook my head. “Who’s dying, Eros? Who are you talking ab—”
“Psyche. My… my wife.”
Eros (B.C. before the curse)
* * *
I watched the crowd, scanning the faces to make certain my step father Hephaestus would not suddenly appear at the gathering.
I was mother’s eyes and ears. I heard her familiar high pitched laughter, beautiful even while it made me cringe, though never outwardly. To any and all I was mother’s good little soldier. Doing anything and everything she bade me do. My mother was easily the most beautiful woman in all the cosmos, she was also the most spiteful and jealous. I’d seen enough of her dealings with those she felt betrayed her that I had no intention of becoming the next victim on her hit list.
I did not understand her aversion to my stepfather. He was a good man. Maybe not as attractive a man as she felt she deserved, but his heart was pure. I’d never told her so, but I thought she could have done much worse considering the fact that my grandmother’s hatred of her was legendary.
Hephaestus was a hard worker and always had time for me growing up. Even when I’d known anyone else would have kicked me out of their workstation for the constant interruptions, he’d always been patient with me. I’d liked him. I liked him still.
But it was no secret within the pantheon that I was actually the bastard son of Ares. Of whom she was currently draped across. They were reckless in their affair, allowing anyone to see them together. The only person my mother dared hide her proclivities from was grandmother. Hera would have punished her for stepping out on her youngest son in so obvious a manner. Not like my grandmother wasn’t a loose woman herself, rumor had it she and my uncle Poseidon had a thing happening too.
Of course, that was none of my business.
Love was a messy and complicated thing. And I should know, considering I’d caused over half of the topsy turvy matings on Olympus and Earth. All of which I’d done at my mother’s behest.
Mother didn’t out and out tell me that I was to not experience the joys of love. But she’d forbidden me as a young child from finding that love with a female. I could mate as many men as I cared to, for whatever reason that she did not mind. But I was not attracted to men. I could recognize their beauty, considering I was a god of love it only made sense that I would, but I did not arouse for them. No, it was the feminine sex that caught my eye.
And if I did not fear mother’s wrath, I may have tried to see what all the fuss was about, in secret of course. But there wasn’t an affair of the heart that mother didn’t know or see. I could never have gotten away with anything, and at my age now, I no longer cared. I’d been many centuries celibate and no longer cared to know the touch of anything.
“Well… from what I hear Aphrodite might not be the fairest in all the lands anymore.”
Hearing my mother’s name upon the tongue of the most renowned gossip in all of Olympus, I casually swiveled toward Dionysus and Persephone.
Persephone was the daughter of Demeter and perpetually youthful, though she was far older than I was she’d yet to mature mentally. She had rich brown hair caught up in a loose flowing bun that was covered in literally hundreds of tiny purple flowers. And eyes the color of wheat in the sunlight. Skin that color of golden umber and a beautifully formed shape that she draped in loose flowing fabric.
I’d always thought her incredibly handsome, but too silly for me to ever respect.
“Yes, well, do not mention the poor child’s name too loudly, Sephone. For we all know what Dite did to that poor Helen girl.”
She snorted and then shrugged and in a terrible attempt at a stage whisper said, “Oh, should I not mention that her name is Psyche and she is one of the daughters of man? A princess no less. And that she has two other sisters, equally as beautiful?”
“Persephone,” Dionysus chided beneath his breath, shaking his head and making a cutting motion across his neck.
But too late. From the corner of my eye I saw my mother’s head suddenly pop up and she said, “What was that, girl?”
I inhaled deeply, keeping my expression neutral even as my heart sank knowing what the end result of this conversation would be. Tonight, was supposed to have only been a supper amongst friends, nothing of consequence was supposed to have taken place here. But leave it to Persephone to stir the pot, knowing full well that my mother’s fragile ego could not tolerate such news.
Feigning surprise, Persephone blinked. “Oh, aunty. What was that?”
My hands, hidden in the shadows from the pillar I stood beside, balled tight by my side as I felt the trembles begin to root up my legs and spine.
My mother stood, and beside her Ares looked surprised by the sudden frosty shift in her demeanor. I could never understand what my mother saw in him. He might have been my blood father, but he was a cold, implacable man with secrets as deep as Serens trenches. It pained me that she couldn’t, or wouldn’t see that.
Everyone on Olympus saw her as a snake, a terribly wicked woman. But I knew that inside of her, somewhere (maybe so far hidden within her that even she didn’t recognize it) was a woman who only wanted to be loved and to love in return. For whatever reason those feelings made her feel ashamed, weak. I wished she wouldn’t feel that way though, because it was those feelings that proved to me there was still something inside worth fighting for, protecting. Yes, she was terrible sometimes. But I held out hope that she wouldn’t always be.
“Don’t play the fool, it doesn’t become you, dear,” my mother said as sweetly as a venomous snake.
A hush settled over the crowd of twenty gods and goddesses, all eyes were trained on my mother and Persephone. The mood was taut, like a bow string right before it snapped.
“Tell me what you were telling Dionysus, or—” she held up her hand and a ball of glowing red power floated above it. Heat wafted off of it, reaching out to even me. Those around my mother grimaced and leaned back.
As Love she shouldn’t have the power to harm, and yet, sometimes love could be the deadliest of emotions.
“My dear,” Ares said, planting a hand on her forearm as he stood beside her, “be well. Persephone is but a child. Do not allow her silly games to get in your hand.”
“Sit. Down,” she told him, never taking her eyes off of a now no longer smiling Persephone.
I was always shocked when War did as Love bade. Not the fact that he respected her power, I at least appreciated that fact, but that of all the gods the one I’d thought most capable of checking mother’s madness might have been War. But even he was prey to her deadly charms.
A sweet smile curved my mother’s lips. To see her one could not help but recognize how beautiful she was, but to know her meant that beauty was often overshadowed by her actions.
I thought of that poor woman Persephone had outed. True, she was a mortal, and of little consequence to the gods, but the human had literally done nothing wrong. Her name had had the misfortune of spilling off the tongue of a reckless goddess this night. And for that offense her life was about to be completely upended. When one got in my mother’s sights, the end result was rarely positive.
“Tell. Me. Now,” my mother said through clenched teeth.
Persephone, clearly aware that she’d pushed things too far, shook her head. “T’was but a joke, aunty. I heard some humans speaking earlier today while I was at a beach. Of three beautiful sisters. But that the youngest had enviable red hair and porcelain pale skin and that she was the most beautiful of all. They called her Psyche. And said she was more beautiful than any goddess. That was all I heard.”
Mother flicked her fingers, and suddenly Persephone was slammed back into her seat. As though she’d been pushed by an invisible giant’s hand. Persephone gasped, and trembled on the seat, but she did not move aga
in. It seemed the immature girl had finally learned why Dionysus had tried so hard to shush her.
“Leave the girl, be,” Ares said, voice deep and soothing beside her. “What mortal could ever be more beautiful than you, Aphrodite? Come, let us go home and wash the stink of this conversation off us.” He tried again to soothe her, but when her lips pinched tight, I knew he’d failed.
“The humans claimed Helen was more beautiful than me. They roused my fury with their vile words. I cannot sit idly by—”
Ares stood, holding out one hand in a placating manner. “That war nearly decimated them all. The loss of life was terrible. The mortal realm cannot afford another deadly skirmish, Aphrodite. We need their worship. They are like rats on a sinking ship, they do not think wisely when their backs are pressed against a wall. I beg of you, my queen, do not provoke them to act so foolhardily again.”
Mother’s face did not betray her emotions, but I knew her well enough to see that Ares’ words, though wise, sat like rot in her gut.
“Then what would you suggest I do?” She banged her fist on the table, a clear sign that she was beginning to lose her composure. “This insult to my godhood cannot be—”
Dionysus, known more for drinking and partying, stood. Looking more serious than I’d ever seen him look before. He held up one hand. “My dear, sweet sister,” he said, voice placating and smooth.
That was the thing about the god of drunkards, very few of the pantheon understood just how wily and crafty he truly was. Apart from being perpetually drunk, Dionysus had managed to mostly keep his nose clean. He had no scandal in his background. An almost impossible achievement on Olympus.
“I think what my brother Ares is saying is that perhaps there is another way to teach those miscreants a lesson.”
His smile was slick and smooth as a snake oil salesman. I knew Dionysus about as well as anyone else on Olympus did. But because I was mother’s courier, I often saw hidden sides of the gods others did not have the privilege of witnessing. Like, the fact that drunk or no, Dionysus was a chess master. He played those around him like a maestro. Always three steps ahead of all the rest. He was actually quite brilliant. It was no accident that he had the reputation around town that he did, I’d come to the conclusion long ago that it was just another facet of his keen intelligence. Always pretend to be insignificant and others would eventually treat you as though you were. But in the meantime, always keep one’s ears open. Nothing happened on Olympus or the realm of men that Dionysus didn’t already seem to know about.
“I’m listening,” mother said.
My brows twitched. I was impressed. What Ares had not managed the god of drink had.
Dionysus’ smile grew wider. “Well, it’s quite simple really. We do not destroy the land of men. No need. A woman’s true weakness is her own vanity.”
Not necessarily true. I knew plenty of women, like my Aunt Athena, who did not seem to care one whit about her looks. But I suspected that Dionysus already knew that, and that the only reason he’d said it was because it was mother’s true weakness. Ergo if it was hers, it stood to reason that others must feel as she did. Or at least, that was the expectation he knew she’d draw from his statement. It was really quite brilliant on his part to play up her own flaws and use them against her.
“True,” she said, falling right into his trap.
His lips twitched and I knew my hunch had been correct. My gods, Dionysus was one to fear. I wondered if anyone else realized it too?
“What do you suggest, brother?” she asked. That she called him brother made me realize just how well he’d manipulated her.
In truth, as mother’s protector, I should be denouncing Dionysus as a traitor. I should be defending my mother’s honor. I saw what he was doing. I understood his influence on her. But I was too impressed. I’d never seen anyone so easily quell my mother’s madness in such a manner. It was really quite breathtaking.
“We turn her beauty against her.” He shrugged as if it were the most obvious idea. “You are the great and glorious goddess of love. Send a peddler her way, with a potion that will make her desirable to all men.”
She gasped and a glittering sheen of avarice filled her blue eyes. “A potion that makes her so desired that it quickly turns to hate and they rape and murder her. I love it.”
I couldn’t help myself. I cringed. I quickly schooled my face back into a mask of indifference, glancing around to make sure none had caught that momentary weakness. I was cloaked in shadow, but only so long as my concentration held. I had to keep my emotions in check. But all eyes were trained on mother and Dionysus.
Dionysus snorted. But if he’d found mother’s delight at the idea of allowing a poor mortal to be raped and tortured by men whose lusts had been turned to hate repugnant, he hid it well.
He shook his head. “While your idea has merit, dear sister”—like Tartarus it did, sometimes I really hated how evil my mother could be—“I was thinking something a little more… comical.”
“Oh,” she rolled her eyes, “of course. Because this is all just one big joke to you, Dionys—”
He held up his hand, stopping her. “Hear me out first. I think you might just see things my way, my dear. Believe me when I say this will be torture for her. But it will make you smile. It is far more pleasant a task to see our enemies incapacitated for decades as opposed to quickly snuffing them out. That pleasure lasts but a second. This will be lifetimes of fun for you.”
She’d seemed ready to dismiss him, but now she was smirking again. Fully onboard. “I’m listening.”
“Send the boy,” he suddenly looked at me, “make him your peddler.”
I clenched my jaw, nostrils flaring. Knowing I was hidden from mother’s view. How dare he. To include me in such a vile, nasty plot as this. Just because I was my mother’s son did not mean that I enjoyed her games. But no one on Olympus ever took the time to know me. To really know me. They saw me merely as mother’s pawn, one of the tools in her extensive arsenal to always get her way with.
Dionysus merely smirked and I was about to break my silence, to reveal too much of myself in my fury, but then for a split second, his smile slid away and there was something in his eyes. Something weighted and heavy, something that felt a lot like “trust me.”
I blinked and so did he. And then that light was gone. Replaced once more by his hateful smirk and I wondered if I’d ever actually seen it at all or if I’d merely been deluding myself.
“No. I won’t do that,” my mother said, “Eros will not get close to that disgusting, filthy mortal.”
Dionysus shrugged. “Do you trust anyone else on Olympus the way you do your faithful son?”
Devil take him.
I had to fight not to scowl. He made me sound like a mindless beast of burden who lived only to do my mother’s bidding. But I was so much more than that. So much more than almost anyone on Olympus.
I felt my mother’s glacial stare suddenly on me. “Step into the light, my son. Let the gods look upon you.”
Her words were proud. Haughty. I hid myself in shadow for a reason. Not because I was hideous to look upon, I was my mother’s son. I simply did not enjoy the attention the way she did.
Knowing I could not fight her command, I stepped into the light. And just as it always did when the gods gazed upon me, their eyes turned glassy, lustful.
I was my mother’s perfect counterpoint.
Persephone even sighed.
I held my chin up high. “As my mother commands,” I said dutifully, robotically. Wearily.
But she did not notice. She never did.
My uncle nodded. “Disguise him. Make him unattractive to her. But just attractive enough,” my uncle held up a finger, “that she will not fear him.”
“And what is in the potion?”
“Repulsion,” he said with a chuckle. “She will keep her beauty, but she will repulse all mortal men. None will offer her their hand in marriage. Her parents, once so proud of her, will reject
her for being unworthy. All friends who once enjoyed inviting her to their dinners and soirees will cease associating with her. She will bring nothing but bitterness and discontent to them. And meanwhile, dear sister, you will watch as her beauty slowly fades and her once kind heard melts into something bitter and jaded.”
I blinked several times, stomach roiling with sickness at the thought of what was being planned against that poor woman. With beauty came a certain type of temperament. The beautiful ones always knew they were beautiful and tended to use their attraction for their benefit. Not all, but those were outliers and quite rare. Most beautiful people I’d encountered had hearts as dead and cold as they weren’t on the outside. Still didn’t make any of this right. And I wanted to say so, but I knew no one would listen to me.
They never did.
“I love it!” She squealed with true rapturous delight. I hated my mother in that moment. I was ashamed of her. Embarrassed to be associated with her.
But my will had never been my own. If mother told me to go, I would. Because my uncle was right, I was and always would be her good little soldier.
“Eros,” my mother cried out and it was all I could do not to grimace.
“Mother,” I said neutrally.
“You will do as your uncle has said.” She rolled her wrist, and suddenly sitting on her palm was a glowing glass shaped heart that rolled with a mercurial pink glittering substance within. “This is the potion. You will make her drink it. Do you hear me, my boy? Do not disappoint me.”
“I never do,” I said and meant it, hating myself more than anything I’d ever hated in my life.
I was about to single handedly destroy someone, and all because the gods were capricious, fickle demons.
“Now make yourself ugly,” she said.
I had the power to alter my appearance. Normally I would just go invisible when I dwelled in the land of men, but this time I knew I could not do that. I snapped my fingers and imagined myself as the type of man mother would automatically cringe away from.
The King of Hearts (The Dark Kings Book 9) Page 3
