I blinked. Mother was no prude, so she must have issue with the fact that it was a nude woman she saw. But… I frowned.
I’d not painted a single nude.
I shook my head. Completely baffled. She walked up to a marble statue I’d sculpted, and snarled. It was of a rose growing up from a skull shaped rock.
“Fucking nudes,” she snapped. “Do not look upon them, Eros. Women are perversions, they will hurt you. They will ruin you.”
“I…I promise,” I said, and meant it. Because I couldn’t see what she was seeing. She turned my rose around and I frowned.
Had Dionysus enchanted this palace so that mother only saw what he wanted her to see? Must have, because mother wasn’t prone to imaginations, and yet I could not see any of what she did. After she’d walked up and down the great hall, covering up the “nudes,” she finally turned to me.
A glowering look of displeasure upon her face. “Well, son. What have you to say for yourself?”
More confused than I’d ever been, I shrugged. Not exactly sure what the right answer to give here was.
Rolling her eyes theatrically, she shook her head. “You’ve kept yourself sealed in shadow for days. I cannot see through your eyes. You promised, how could I have raised such a selfish boy?”
Schooling my features was an automatic thing for me. “I did exactly as bid, mother. I gave her the potion. The men of the village find her repulsive. Uncle’s plan work—”
“Yes,” she snarled, “and now he’s got you set up in his own warded palace. I cannot look upon you from the heavens. What have you two got up to, Eros? What are you hiding from me?” She took a step closer.
I swallowed, heart racing furiously in my chest, but outwardly I was calm as ever. “Nothing,” I said with such complete conviction that I even believed myself for half a moment.
Gods, when had I become such a good liar?
I’d never deceived my mother before. Ever.
She cocked her head. I knew she didn’t believe me, and yet, she had no proof. She looked around the palace again.
“Debauched, bastard,” she muttered beneath her breath.
I almost, almost muttered hypocrite back, but I swallowed it down. The only reason mother was so bothered was because she saw nude females. Females she wanted me to have no part of. And I was finally beginning to have suspicions why. If those were men in the paintings, she’d be actively encouraging me to enjoy them.
Mother knew something.
About me. About Psyche.
She looked at me. “Take me to see her, Eros. Now.”
I stood off to the side, under heavy cover of my shadows. Watching mother, watch her.
I tried to pretend my palms weren’t sweating. That my heart wasn’t racing. That my stomach wasn’t diving with a nest of razor tipped butterflies, and that at any moment I might become sick from the most astounding case of nerves I’d ever felt.
Psyche was sitting alone in her father’s gardens, head bent, reading a book. The moonlight framed her profile, making her look both alien and yet heart achingly familiar.
I’d been watching her many nights roam her gardens relentlessly. Pacing slowly back and forth, her footsteps meandering and nonsensical, but yet she reminded me of a caged beast desperate to be set loose from its captivity.
Maybe it was that part of her I felt must attuned to.
It wasn’t like I couldn’t recognize her beauty. She had it, in spades. With or without the potion she’d drunk, there was no denying that her doe shaped eyes, her button nose, or her rosebud pout weren’t exceptionally crafted. But I’d been around physical beauty my whole life. It wasn’t as titillating to me anymore.
Still, it was shocking how many had forgotten Psyche’s astonishing good looks, if they’d seen her with their hearts and not simply their eyes, they’d never have forgotten who she truly was.
Her fiancé, Arganon, had broken their betrothal several days past. I counted that a win. And so, had she, judging by the secret smile I’d seen play about her lips when her maid had whispered to her that she’d been set aside in favor of her middle sister.
The castle had been in a tizzy with that bit of tittle tattle. But Psyche had held her head high and pretended not to notice.
Psyche was pleased to be rid of the scoundrel, her parents, however, they had not. And their usual indifference to her was starting to take a turn that was worrisome to me. Her father’s moods were becoming more and more prone to violence. At first, he’d simply seemed aloof to her, but as more time passed and more and more avenues of wealth dried up for him, he seemed to take it personally. More as a slight against him as opposed to his daughter who he’d once pretended to cherish.
Now, the beautiful female paced the gardens with the intensity of a prowler. That or, she exhausted herself from hours of self-flagellation that she simply sat and read. Though how much reading she truly did, I wasn’t sure considering she was always on the same page.
I’d not uttered a single word to her since that day on the beach, and yet I knew her. I knew so well, because she was me.
“Pathetic creature,” my mother turned, eyeing the space where my shadow was thickest before skipping past to a spot just to the right of me. Sometimes I wished I could live inside the shadows and never be seen again.
“Where are you boy, do not pretend you’re not here. I feel your wet breath on my neck.”
My lips curled into a grimace of distaste. I would never do something so vile. And she knew it. She also knew how to wound me with her careless words.
Burying my sigh, I banished my shadows. Revealing myself to her again.
Her eyes instantly lit up and her smile became as radiant as the sun.
“There’s my good boy, not like that waste of air back there.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, where Psyche sat. I wanted to look at her again, but I was afraid that if I did with my mother right there, I would not be able to hide my truths any longer.
So, I pretended to agree with my bitch of a mother, hating her just a bit more today than I had yesterday. “Indeed,” I drawled.
Her grin grew wider. “You truly are a lovely boy, my Eros. The very best of me, I think.”
I’d never hated being referred to as her son, because it was the truth, but in this moment, I had a terrible urge to do something violent to her. Something awful and wicked. I swallowed hard. Gods, what was wrong with me?
“You do not find her pretty, do you, my boy?”
“No,” I said instantly, holding my chin high. Giving mother a pompous look of indifference.
I did not find Psyche pretty. Pretty implied she was simply just okay. Nice enough. She was more.
She was becoming everything to me. A terrifying and foreign need was rising up in me. I wanted to guard her. Protect her. I wanted to be hers. Her man. Her lover. Her world. I wanted her to want me as I desperately yearned for her. And not merely because of the skin she wore. But because I knew she would understand me like no other being in the world could. And I would know her just as well.
“Good,” mother said, blue eyes sparkling. I knew that look. It was mischief that rose in her now.
“That is good. Because this bores me. There will be a festival. Held in my honor.”
I frowned. “What?”
“Yes. These islanders have been neglected far too long by me. An oversight I aim to rectify. You will lead the charge, of course. Lay out the banners, tell all of them that they are to bring their youngest daughters to be judged, by me. The family of my chosen will receive unimaginable wealth and fame.”
This was too good. Far too good a bargain for my mother. I cocked my head. “What’s the catch, mother?”
Her laughter was an intoxicating sound to most. But to me, I had to fight to keep from grinding my molars together and calling her an evil bitch.
“Well, my dear boy, you know your mother well. My champion will be betrothed to a male of my choosing, of course. And I guarantee that she will adore him because
your arrow will pierce her heart.”
My heart raced with the force of a stampeding stallion. She would force me to strip Psyche of her autonomy and fall in love with a nightmare. I just knew it. I knew already what this really was.
“Mother, those arrows are danger—”
“Do you dare defy me, boy!” She straightened her shoulders, glaring angrily at me. My mind raced, thinking up so many different methods to stop her. Thousands of ideas flooded my mind, but in order to accomplish any of them I’d need her to truly believe me still on her side. If she sensed, for even a moment, that I was not one hundred percent her mindless lackey she would be on guard and I would never be able to save Psyche from a fate worse than death.
“Of course not,” I said without heart, without inflection, without emotion.
She peered at me a moment, before finally smirking and nodding. “Good. Now hug me, my boy. Our fights are ever so draining.”
She held out her arms.
Violence rose up in me. The violence of my father. I reveled in the dark and grotesque images of what I wished to do to her for only a moment, just a second, and then I buried it. Deep. Far down deep. And I cloaked myself in numbness. I hugged her. Laying my head upon her left breast, she did not hug me back. She never did. This was how she’d controlled me my whole life, giving me what I wanted. Love and affection, while still holding it all back.
I’d been so desperate for anyone to hold me, to love me, that this had once been enough. But it wasn’t any longer and hadn’t been for a very long time.
I kissed her cheek, then I stepped back. Meek and mild mannered once more.
“Set out the banners tomorrow.” Then she wiggled her fingers and I felt a transforming light fall upon me.
When I looked down, I saw a soft paunch where none had been before. And my skin had darkened to a deep olive. I rubbed my head, there was no hair there.
“Until this is done, enjoy your new looks. In case you had any ideas of visiting the girl, she would not want you like this.”
Mother smirked. So bloody sure of herself.
I nodded. “Yes, mother.”
“I will return in three days’ time. I expect the festival to be up to my standard, boy.”
Then she was gone.
I turned, heading for the doorway that would lead out of the gardens, not bothering to shield myself in shadow. I looked like a lowly gardener now, I would arouse no suspicion if I was caught.
“Male!” Her voice, it stopped me dead.
My pulse was a living, wild thing in my chest. I kept walking, thinking she surely wasn’t speaking to me.
But then I heard the rush of footsteps, and a second later, a small, warm hand latched onto my elbow. Turning me around.
I could have resisted her touch, but I did not want to.
I looked upon her beautiful face with my heart in my eyes, unable to shield myself from her even a moment longer.
She blinked, shook her head, and then said, “Who are you? Why have I never seen you here before?”
I wanted to touch her.
I wanted to pull her onto my lap, I wanted her to hold me, and then I wanted to bury my nose in her neck and simply be. I wanted her peace to be mine. I wanted her.
I swallowed hard.
“This…this is a castle of hundreds, milady.”
“Yes,” she said softly, kindly, “and I know every one of them. So again, I ask, who are you and why have you come here?”
She released me and my soul wept. Touch me more. Touch me everywhere. But I dared never say those words aloud.
I shook my head. “I…I am come to”—see you— “organize a festival, in honor of the great goddess Aphrodite.”
My soul began to splinter. It was the truth, but not the full truth. And judging by the unsure glitter in her eyes, she knew it too.
“What festival? I’ve never heard of such?”
“I am a simple oracle, ma’am. But I was sent by the goddess herself to see that in three days’ time your people would receive her in grand fashion.”
“Aphrodite’s oracles are females. Who are you really?” There was curiosity in her tone, but not malice. Not anger.
She was so gentle, my Psyche. So sweet. Too sweet for this cruel and contemptuous world.
I knew I should not do it. I knew I should not touch her. But for too long I’d been watching her sorrow play out before me, I’d seen the destruction of mother’s hatred already ruining her life and my heart ached.
This was not right. It was not fair.
So softly, so gently, I traced the line of her cheekbone with my thumb, pressing down just a little as I followed the natural curve and dip toward her chin. I rested my thumb just beneath the pout of her lower lip. She sucked in a sharp breath.
It would be nothing to press my lips to hers. Nothing. I wet my mouth and as though she sensed my thoughts, she did to hers as well.
“I know you,” she whispered. “I do not know how I know you, but we’ve met before. Haven’t we?”
Yes. And you’ve pierced my soul like a dagger. Those words could never pass my lips, but I thought them with every fiber of my being toward her.
Her small hand gripped my wrist. “Am I ugly to you?” she asked and my nostrils flared, a ball of heat trapped itself in the back of my throat.
Tomorrow I would make sure never to be caught by her again. Tomorrow I would keep my distance and guard my heart, but tonight…tonight I was just so damned tired.
“Am I ugly to you, little swan?” I asked her instead.
She frowned and then she scrutinized my face, before a small smile graced the corners of her velvety pink lips.
“I like your looks very much, sir.”
I shook my head. “But I am ugly, little swan. In my heart, I am the ugliest male you’ll ever know.”
She shook her head. “I do not believe that.”
“You do not know me.”
“Oh, but I think I do. Somehow, I know we’ve met before. You are as beautiful as I once was. I see it. I see you, deep in you. I see your heart and it is a rare soul that stares back at me.”
My chest heaved, and I wasn’t sure when I’d done it, but I was swaying, so close to her now that I could smell the perfume lacing her taut skin. Though it was not I that fused our mouths together first, but she.
And it was like a beast unleashed in me.
I gripped her hips tight, pulling her firmly into my body and kissed her with the passion of a novice. I knew I was doing it all wrong. Our teeth were knocking, and our noses pressed too tightly together. But she was desperate in her clawing of me as I was of her. The back of my head felt raked by her nails, and I hissed when her hands scored down my back.
The kiss lasted an eternity and ended far too soon.
We both pulled back at the same time, our foreheads pressed together as we breathed in one another’s air.
My hands were still fused upon her hips and her nails were still digging into my back.
“They say I am the ugliest creature alive,” she whispered, voice cracking with sorrow and I shook my head.
“You are prettier than she will ever be.”
“She?” she questioned, but I shook my head.
“It is nothing. And you should not walk the gardens alone. Strange beasts can lurk about. It is not safe for you out here alone, Psyche.”
“But I am not alone. You are with me.” She looked at me, light brown eyes glittering with a secret smile that I felt imprinted upon my own heart.
She’d tasted of mystery and magic. Of fire and ice.
I love you…
She smiled broadly and I knew she had not heard, but maybe she’d recognized the light in my eyes.
“Will I see you again,” she whispered and it was miraculous to me how attuned she seemed to be to me already.
I shook my head. Weeping on the inside. Wishing it could be otherwise but knowing that if mother ever caught me here her brutality of Psyche would be so much worse.
“I am but a ship passing in the night.”
She gasped. “I do know you.” Her brows dipped and her gaze was intent upon me. “It was you that day. The peddler. The one who promised me peace from father’s plans for me.”
I didn’t deny it.
She cocked her head, studying me like a curious kitten, her eyes searching mine as though for any sign of recognition. “Are you a god? You must be, to assume such different forms. But which one are you really?”
She jerked out of my arms, and hugged herself. Looking afraid as she’d not been before.
And I knew why. The gods might be wonderful in the stories, but in truth they were almost all terrible. The good ones were taken. And the only ones left were those like me, with hidden agendas, and wicked games to play.
I had to go.
But before I did. I snapped my fingers and her gardens came alive with creatures only ever seen upon Olympus. Her flowers dipped and swayed from a gentle zephyr rolling in from the ocean and released their pollen. Which also glowed, like little embers of gold in the night. Birds with exotic tail feathers and jewel like plumes flew all around her.
The smile upon her face was worth any punishment I would receive if mother ever learned of this.
And as she gazed upon my gifts in awe I slipped into the shadows. I did not look back as I walked away, because if I did, I might never leave. And I had to go. Mother had transformed me, meaning I could not hide in my own shadows, she could find me if she wanted to. I could not afford a misstep.
Out on the castle grounds I stared up at Nyx’s handiwork, studying the stars, wondering if this was the very best, I would ever get in life. I couldn’t say when it was that mother’s heavy hand had begun to slowly chip away at me, once I’d not minded her constant mothering, but now… I sighed and released my snow white wings.
Psyche was in great danger, whatever it was that mother had planned, I knew it would not go well for her. I had to try and discover what mother had planned without alerting her in the process. There was only one god I knew of that might actually be able to help me out here.
I flew back toward my secret palace. Arriving only moments later and calling out to my Uncle the moment my foot touched soil.
The King of Hearts (The Dark Kings Book 9) Page 7
