Destined (5 page)

Eros’s fork clattered onto his plate. He slammed his eyes shut as the noise echoed inside his brain like cymbals. Damn. After three days’ worth of festivities, he’d forgotten his mother had made him her do-boy again. What was it she wanted?

His brain felt like pulp. Something about Psyche, he remembered that much. And
not
having to marry her. That news alone justified his three-day bender. His stomach settled as the memories pushed their way forward.

“Will there be anything else, Sire?”

Eros wiped at his mouth with a napkin. “See that no one comes in. Apparently I have work to do.”

As the man scurried away, Eros took a last gulp of ambrosia and headed for the courtyard. But his mutinous feet didn’t want to make the trip. Psyche’s emerald eyes flashed in his brain — so full of fire and life. Granted, he wanted nothing to do with her and the inevitable heartbreak she’d bring. But he sort of hated thinking he’d be the one who’d drown out her spark.

When had using his arrows gotten so messed up? He longed for those early, innocent years, when his arrows did only one thing: make people who were supposed to be in love stay that way. Still, what choice did he have? If he didn’t give his mother what she wanted, no telling what retribution she’d plan.

Convincing his body to finally budge, Eros made his way into the courtyard and reclined against a golden bench. He leaned back and focused on an empty patch of wall. The Greek landscape flickered behind his eyes, his second sight honing in.

 
The spinning visions made him nauseous.
How much wine did I drink?
He took deep breaths to keep his breakfast down and tried to think about who he ought to be looking for. Random searching when he felt like a weak-kneed sailor was clearly not in his best interests.

Maybe a Cyclops? No, he’d probably crunch her bones into tiny pieces. As cruel as he knew her beauty could be if he ever got close, death wasn’t a sentence he wanted to impose. And fortunately wasn’t what he’d been tasked with.

How about Argus? Eros bet she couldn’t find a way to break his heart with 100 eyes staring back at her. Not that he really liked the idea of her being perpetually creeped out, but she’d get used to it. Argus wasn’t a bad option really. Not mean, just gross. Aphrodite would probably be satisfied with that.

But that option was out too. The eyeball-endowed man was serving as a watchman for Hera. Good call on that one, actually. But that meant he was too close to the gods to be wretched enough for his mother’s purposes.

Groaning, Eros let his head fall back against the bench. He’d use the arrows like he’d been ordered. But didn’t his mother realize that just thinking about her was starting to peel back the wound? Why’d he have to find the target too? Oh yeah, because Aphrodite clearly didn’t want to be bothered with the details. As long as she was on “holiday at sea,” as his doorman had annouced, she wouldn’t be able to use her second sight even if she wanted to.

How convenient for her.

Eros ran his fingers through his tangled hair. Something sticky caught in them and the nausea resurfaced. He didn’t even want to know. Thank the gods there were no mirrors in the courtyard. He probably looked scraggly enough to be the groom himself.

Now there’s an idea, he thought. Someone who looks (and feels) as bad as he did right now.

He knew exactly what he was looking for then. There’d been a rumor spreading about it during the parties, and sure enough. The uproar projected into his brain, leading his vision easily to the target.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the blank wall, not seeing the stone at all. The scene unfurled just as he’d hoped. A mob was chanting. “We must end the drought! Cast the
Pharmakos
out!” Faces were twisted in angry snarls; the victim was jostled forward on the arms of his captors.

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, he told himself this was the right call. Aphrodite asked for hideous and the
Pharmakos
qualified. But after delving into the man for a moment, Eros picked up on a few positive traits too. He wasn’t harsh; he didn’t have a sharp tongue; and Eros was pretty sure he’d worship the ground Psyche walked on.

He didn’t know why, maybe just the lingering affection he felt for
her
, but Eros really didn’t wish Psyche ill. He knew his mother was overreacting, as she’d done a hundred times before. But she always got her way. If he didn’t impose the sentence, Aphrodite would find a way to make it even worse.

For both of them.

Realizing he was out of options, Eros settled on his choice. He could condemn Psyche to life as a vagabond if the person holding her hand would be her partner through it all. Deep down, it’s what his nature drew him to do - make good matches - not call on his talents in revenge.

Here’s hoping the pairing is something everyone could live with.

Chapter 6 - Psyche

For the next few days, there were no birds. No visits from my sister. I was alone with my crowd. Their constant, muted rumble played like the song of my heart. An endless rise and fall with no definition. Like a shape without sides. And though the sound pulsed and writhed to its own rhythm, the dullness made it feel unreal.

I wanted it all to be unreal.

The crowd, I snubbed. My sister, I craved. Each day that passed without her made my soul bleed. I could feel the walls building between us. The knocks on her door that went unanswered. How she left a room whenever I walked in.

Some things can be forgiven. But this?

Not that I’d known or meant any of it. Still. Maybe I deserved her impaling hatred. And I wished I could go back in time. Back to when that milk-white bird had first fluttered through my window. I’d tell her everything. Even though Aphrodite made me promise not to breathe a word. I’d tell Chara, and she’d keep my secret, and neither of us would be where we were now.

Those were the dreams of my tears. They gave me solice in the hours between sleep.

Until the knock on my door finally came.

Flinging myself out of bed, I raced for the door, absolutely sure I’d find Chara on the other side. I didn’t dare hope she’d forgiven me, just cooled enough to talk. To hear my side. To help me on a solution for us all.

I couldn’t even stop myself from blooming into a smile, I was so giddy she’d finally come.

The reality of my visitor slammed me like colliding with a slab of marble. My father’s messenger waited, column-strait, when I threw open my door. His eyes were fixed on a spot above my head. No eye contact.

“My Lady, your father sends word that you are to be ready by sundown. The first suitor has arrived. You are not to leave your room until that time.”

As if.

He bowed, averting his eyes, and left with his toga flaring behind him in his flight to escape my presence.

Once I closed my door, I sank into a pile on the floor. It was here. Already.

I’d been thinking through this moment, making sure I was ready to do the right thing for my sister. And the only thing that could possibly save myself.

There’d been so many dead-end thoughts; paths down a Minotaur’s labyrinth that had no end. Only one idea seemed even plausible. I’d make sure the first suitor who came married me. My stomach clenched as I went over my reasoning for the millionth time.

If I was married first, maybe Chara’s bride price would drop. And then it wouldn’t matter
when
she was married and Mom and Dad could let her wait. Like they’d always planned.

Plus, if Aphrodite really meant what she’d said about learning from her mistakes with Helen, then she’d have to give up the matchmaker role once I had a husband. No more wars over women, right? I’d simply have to stay her hand the only way I could.

In all the time I’d spent alone in my room the past few days, I hadn’t come up with a better solution.

So why was pushing myself up off the floor to get ready the hardest movement I’d ever had to make?

* * *

As the sun began to set, I made my way down the long marble stairs from my room. I’d selected an olive-colored dress that brought out the green of my eyes. Maia had wrapped my hair up in a loose bun and made my skin sing with the heady perfume of sage and lilies.

The admirers had made me painfully aware that I was pretty enough without the added effort, but I asked Maia to really give it her all tonight. If I was going to marry this stranger to save myself and Chara, I needed him to see only me. I suspected my bride price was way higher than my sister’s. Plus, since he arrived so quickly, it meant his City had to be nearby. The selfish part of me loved the idea of not moving too far from home.
 

I found my parents and sister entertaining our guest in the courtyard. He looked about father’s age, but was far leaner. Although bald, his long, angular face was grounded by richly dark eyebrows and a well-trimmed beard. The effect made him look distinguished, in a harsh, old-person sort of way.
   

When I crossed the threshold into the courtyard, everyone stopped talking and fixed their eyes on me. Attention being nothing new, I did what was expected of me: I radiated a smile and curtsied.
 

My father cleared his throat. “Psyche, I’d like you to meet King Andreas of Corinth.”

Lowering my eye lashes, I nodded my head in greeting. “It gives me great pleasure to welcome you. Thank you for coming all this way.” Of course, Corinth wasn’t far at all (
I’d been right!
), but that wasn’t the point. My intent was to charm and flatter him.

He looked me over from head to toe. His gaze passed like a winter chill over my body. After several seconds, he turned back to my father.

“Darion, she’s every bit as lovely as the rumors made her out to be. How much are you asking for her?”

That’s it? That’s as much as he needs to know about me before trying to purchase me for his wife?
Andreas hadn’t even bothered to speak to me.
 

“Sire,” I cut in, stepping between him and Father. “Forgive me for interrupting, but I thought you might like to get to know me first before proposing marriage.”

His calculating eyes bore through me. “There is nothing more I need to know other than the price. Either I can afford you or I cannot.”

I staggered back a step, feeling suddenly queasy and mortified. Embarrassment burned my cheeks like I’d been slapped. My sister had been right to be afraid. This was worse than anything I’d ever imagined. They were discussing my purchase price right in front of me.

My pulse felt like it could stampede its way free from my veins. I’d learned my lesson about shoving important-but-insulting guys, but my blood pressure responded to Andreas with the same hostility I’d felt standing before Eros. Leaving before I did something equally as stupid seemed like a good idea.