Even as Psyche trembled under his grasp, touching her again set off a concussive burst in his nerves. Before, with her, he hadn’t felt this strongly. This was something new entirely, almost like he was under a spell.
The realization made a shudder roll down his spine. Had he done this to himself? His mind cycled backward. He’d whispered Psyche’s name, that could’ve changed the target. Had he poked himself? It couldn’t be, the arrow hadn’t dissolved. He’d had to crush it into oblivion. But then again, he’d never shot anyone gently before either. Was it the impact and not the use that made the arrows vanish?
Psyche tore herself free, skittering back to her bench as if the stone would shield her. His heart nearly cramped as he felt her exposed fear. He yearned to sit beside her, pull her into his lap, soothe away her worries. He wanted nothing more than for them to be in love.
What did it matter whether these feelings were self-inflicted? He was on a high he never wanted to come down from. And he wanted Psyche. Wanted her love. Wanted her at his side. Wanted everything.
But he needed time to think. His mother’s curse had set certain events in motion. Taking Psyche now would have consequences. Maybe even ones he didn’t want to face. He had to get out of there before he did something even more colossally stupid than shooting himself.
“Go inside, Psyche. Someone will come for you soon.” Whether Eros came back himself or he led the Phramakos to her door, one way or another, someone would be coming.
Pausing only long enough to catch the rising moonlight reflecting in her eyes, Eros turned and ran back to the forest.
Chapter 8 - Psyche
I walked to where I thought the stranger with the arrow had been standing, but I couldn’t see any footprints. There was no sign that the clay pathway leading to the forest had been disturbed. A lone pine needle twisting in the grass was the only sign of movement.
That settled it; I must’ve fallen asleep on the bench and dreamt the whole thing. It had all seemed so real, but then again, dreams often do — especially omens.
An omen? Could it be? If the stranger in my dream had said that a “someone” would be coming for me, maybe he meant a husband. Maybe it wasn’t too late to save myself from Aphrodite after all. Would that be any more bizarre than nearly being impaled by an arrow only for the hunter to turn around and run away?
Gathering up the lengths of my dress, I rushed back to the palace. The foyer and dining rooms were empty, so I rushed to my sister’s suite. Chara was finishing her packing. Wooden trunks were strewn about her room, overflowing with her various worldly possessions. She sang softly to herself and her movements were like a candle-lit dance as she glided one way to tuck away a nightgown and back across her room to retrieve a forgotten hand mirror.
Chara’s normally a bubbly person, but this felt wrong. Was this the same girl who’d banished me from her room for putting her in the position of having to marry an old king? I didn’t know how old Rasmus’s dad was, but he couldn’t be young.
When Chara saw me standing in her doorway, she rushed over and pulled me into her arms, giving me a quick but crushing hug. “Psyche, I don’t want us to say goodbye on bad terms, okay? I forgive you.”
I tried to smile but was too confused. What was I missing?
Chara apparently mistook my confusion for jealousy and laughed. “I’m sure you wanted him for yourself. But seriously, let me enjoy having something special for once.”
Before I could ask what in Hades she was blabbering about, Rasmus came to my side in the doorway. “Psyche, I don’t mean to interrupt, but if you’re done with your sister, I have a bride to take home with me.”
“You’re heading out tonight?” I stammered. “Can’t it wait till morning?”
“The sooner we get started, the better. Mycenae is eagerly awaiting your sister’s arrival.”
Chara let a trunk lid slam closed. “If you’ll call the servant boy back up here for the last of the luggage, I’ll be ready.” When Rasmus walked off to do her bidding, she mock-whispered, “I’m going to be a princess of Mycenae. And he’s so young.” Returning to her normal voice, she added, “This is so much better than I could’ve ever hoped. I’m sorry I was mad at you all week. Can we be friends again? Please?”
Before I could answer, Rasmus returned and took Chara’s hand. “Shall we?” he asked.
Chara gave me a hopeful smile and slid out of her suite. I wanted to scream at Rasmus that he was a big, fat liar for everything he’d told me in the garden, but then he looked back at me. The look in his eyes was both pleading and stern, begging and warning me not to tell Chara what I knew.
My eyes grew wide as I broke gaze with Rasmus. Of course Chara was acting like a love-struck fool. She thought she was going to marry Rasmus. He must not have told her that although she would be a bride, she wasn’t going to be his bride. I wondered if that’d been his father’s idea or my parents’ inspiration. I was sure the Rasmus I’d just met wouldn’t willingly deceive anyone. But here he was, leading my painfully oblivious sister away.
What would happen if I did warn her? Could I save her from what was already done by telling her? Or would I just be prematurely stripping away her joy?
In the second I paused to decide, Father moved in beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. His dark eyes pierced mine, making me feel small and helpless. “This is a good allegiance for our City, don’t you think?”
What could I do but nod my agreement? Chara was headed off to be a queen. Not a princess even, but the queen of a powerful City. Of course it was good for Sikyon – the more friends we had, the better. But the feeling of wanting to be sick was too powerful to stay there. I couldn’t see her off. Not like this.
Trudging back to my room, I climbed into bed with one of my favorite tragedies, Oedipus Rex. Maybe I could convince myself that his life was more screwed up than mine. Not that it should make me feel better, but I liked the idea of not being alone in having a messed up family. And if I didn’t find solace in the scrolls, at least I could count on my bed to wrap me in comfort until the soggy emptiness of the past couple days subsided.
I hadn’t been reading for long when I heard a soft knock. Mother nudged the door open, but waited in the threshold to see if I’d invite her in. I did.
“Andreas?” I asked.
“Gone,” she answered. “Apparently Corinth isn’t willing to pay through the nose for a sharp-tongued princess.”
Thank gods. At least one thing I’d done this week had worked out in my favor.
Mother sat on the edge of my bed and patted my knee. “How you holding up?” she asked.
“Do you care?”
Yeah, it was rude, but the last time she’d really spoken to me, she was hysterical with the news that her daughter had been adopted by Aphrodite. Then she’d shunned me just as much as Chara these past few days. She wasn’t getting back on my good side just by showing up.
“Psyche, don’t be like that.” The lines around her eyes creased. “You’ve always been the understanding one. Try to see things from our perspective.”
“What perspective is that?” I tossed the scroll down to the foot of the bed and began waving my arms at her as my voice perched on the edge of a yell. “The perspective that you decided to sell off your daughters because we’re at the peak of our bride price, even though you promised Chara she had at least another year? Or the perspective that you just let Chara dance off to a wedding without even knowing who her husband is going to be?”
Mother didn’t answer, so I scooted off my bed, unable to stand sitting next to her any longer. “How am I supposed to trust you?”
She sighed, long and heavy, as if weighing the possible responses. Finally, she said, “You knew about Chara, huh? Why didn’t you tell her?”
Now it was me who didn’t have an answer. I didn’t want to admit I’d been too afraid to act. That the looks from Rasmus and Father had frozen me. That I’d convinced myself Chara’s temporary happiness would be better for he
r than the truth.
“I know, Psyche,” she said. “Things aren’t always as straightforward as they seem.”
Keeping my back to her, I rearranged the perfume and lotion bottles on my vanity. The sudden sense of losing everyone I cared about, even Aphrodite, nearly overwhelmed me. She hadn’t been back since our fight and I missed her sprawling herself across my room, playing with my hair, letting me try out every new fragrance I got on her first. Did our girl chats not mean anything to her? Was she missing me at all?
When the lily scent of the last lotion I’d used on Aphrodite hit me, I had to swallow back a sob that threatened to choke me. How had my life gone so completely wrong in just four days?
To keep from crying, I jerked my hair into a tight braid, pulling harder every time I thought I felt tears forming. And I focused my attention back on Mother. “Whose idea was it to let Chara go like that? Tell me it wasn’t yours.”
In the mirror, I saw her looking down at her clasped hands. “Not mine, no; but I’m as much to blame as anyone. I didn’t stop it.”
I spun around to face her head-on. “Why? What possible reason could you have for tricking her like that?”
Mother’s eyes snapped up at my accusing tone. “Have you seen her the past few days? She’s been sullen and withdrawn. There was no way she was going to pull it together unless she thought she was headed off with someone like Rasmus.”
“I still don’t get why though.Why not wait for another suitor? It didn’t have to be the first one that came along.”
Mother sat up, arrow straight. “The role of a royal daughter is to solidify alliances with her marriage. Do you know how powerful Mycenae is? We weren’t willing to turn them away because Chara was weepy-eyed.”
I was too shocked to answer. It was one of the coldest things I’d ever heard her say. But as she stared at my shuttered window, the flame from my bedside lamps amplified the moisture pooling in her eyes. “Do you think your father rode in on some white horse and I got to choose him from among other suitors? Our marriage was arranged before I was barely old enough to understand what the word meant.” Her words dropped to barely more than a whisper. “It’s through time and a shared vision for this City that we’ve grown to love each other.”
My shock fell away as I realized she’d been through this exact same thing. Maybe it was awful that she was willing to sell off her daughters; or maybe it was just the way things worked and no one could change that. Either way, I felt like I saw my mom from a slightly different angle now. Like her scars had been made visible under different lighting. Did she have other wounds too hidden for me to know about? I didn’t want to hold grudges against her that weren’t hers to bear.
She must’ve seen me soften. When she patted the bed beside her, I obediently sat. “So, how’d you know about Chara?”
I told her about finding Rasmus alone and the talk we had in the alcove, but left out the details that’d suggest we’d been flirting. Better she not think I’d ventured too far down Aphrodite’s path already. Then I told her about my odd dream and suspicion there could be more to it.
As I described it, Mother pinched her lips closed in thought. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, but our family has a history of receiving prophetic dreams.”
I rolled my eyes. She might have mentioned it once or twice.
Slowly, she repeated the words of my dream. “Go inside, Psyche. Someone will come for you soon.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Prophecies can be very double-sided.”
I flopped back against my bed and let my arms sprawl out to the side. “Typical. I finally get some hope and…” I paused, blinking back fresh tears. “I don’t think I can handle any more bad news today, Mom.”
She blew out my lamp and smoothed the few strands of hair around my face that I hadn’t forced into a braid. “Just sleep, baby. Tomorrow’s a new day and I have a feeling the prophecy will reveal itself soon.”
Chapter 9 - Eros
As soon as Eros launched toward home, he began plotting. Of course, Aphrodite couldn’t know about this since she apparently hated her new daughter. And she’d demanded Psyche fall in love with someone wretched.
So if Aphrodite couldn’t know about his plans, it meant he had to keep Psyche in the dark to some extent too.
Talk about “hating” something.
The idea of never showing himself to Psyche again hit harder than a kick to the kidneys. She deserved better than never knowing the name of the man who loved her, never seeing his face looking down upon her when she first opened her eyes in the morning.
But how long could a mortal keep his identity a secret? It was a risk he couldn’t afford to take. No, he knew the only way to ensure Aphrodite didn’t figure things out was to ensure Psyche herself never knew.
But then what did that mean - keeping himself a secret? How do you spend the rest of your life with someone and not know their real name? How do you avoid ever seeing their face?
He could blind Psyche, but that’d be torture for them both. Without her sight, she couldn’t possibly be happy. She’s never be able to read, or watch a play, or enjoy blooming flowers again. He wouldn’t sacrifice so much of what she loved out of life for his own happiness.
That alone had to be a sure sign he was really in love — Psyche’s happiness mattered far more to him than his own. Eros almost smacked himself for being such a sap. But he couldn’t be angry with himself when he thought of Psyche.
Retreating to the courtyard of his palace, he trained his second sight on Psyche. For the time, watching her was all he needed. The pulse of her lips as she spoke filled him; the flutter of her eyes restored him.
As the hours slipped by, servants scrambled to bring the god something to rouse him from his trance, but Eros couldn’t be moved. All he wanted was to gaze at Psyche until he thought of a way to hold her without risking both their lives.
Life.
That’s what he wanted with her. But how? How, when his mother had forbidden it? How, when Psyche despised him? How, when the way to get what he wanted involved tricking the only two women who mattered in his life?
As Eros looked on, a caravan of suitors approached the gates of Sikyon; nobles with their horses and wagons paraded up the hill from the port. A cold sheen of sweat coated Eros’s brow. The threat of losing Psyche to someone else, and failing to carry out his mother’s sentence, slapped his googly-eyed brain into motion. Finally, Eros knew what he had to do.
His first stop was Aphrodite’s palace. Praise Zeus she was on vacation. She never let anyone look at the natural antidote to her powers, let alone take some if it. There’d be no way to explain what he was doing if she caught him helping himself to the potent waters. He filled two flasks from the Spring of Abstinence, surprisingly delighted by the thought that the suitors would enjoy a full month of absolutely no sense of love or lust. Usually he prided himself on inflicting such sweet torture, but perhaps a lack of passion was something even worse.
With his flasks filled, Eros disguised himself as an old servant and sped to the gates of Sikyon just as the suitors approached.
“Hail good Lords!” Eros called to the men. “My master, King Darion, awaits your arrival at his palace, but he knows you still have some distance to travel before you arrive. Please accept some water on behalf of the King to make the rest of your journey more comfortable.”
“Now this is hospitality,” one of the men said, brusquely snatching a flask from Eros’s hand. After taking a long drink, he threw the flask to another of the nobles. “Krios, I don’t remember you sending out water bearers when I came to visit you.”
“Heh! You’re lucky I even let you in my City.”
“Lucky you let me in? You’re the one who should be thanking me for gracing that rat hole with my presence.”
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot,” Krios replied. “Your great grandfather’s second cousin’s uncle was related by marriage to a god. Why, you’re practically a god yourself.”
While t
he barbs flew, the suitors passed the flasks between themselves, laughing and drinking.
When they’d emptied the flasks, the suitors continued on their way to the palace, never looking back at the aged servant who’d already disappeared.
Chapter 10 - Psyche
The afternoon following my dream, I snatched a glimpse out my window to see a line of suitors marching toward us. For once, Mother’s skepticism was misplaced. My dream was a good prophecy that was coming true already.
I watched as no less than a dozen kings and princes bore through the mob and were welcomed into our home. After a while, Maia came and told me the men had caravanned together from the port of Corinth. She also told me — in no uncertain terms — that my parents wanted me to stay in my room until they sent for me. They were planning a banquet and Maia was under strict orders to keep me hidden until then.
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