Destined (7 page)

When Eros approached the garden alcove, he saw Psyche sprawled face-down across a bench. Her shoulders visibly shook from sobs. Soft ringlets obscured her face, tucking her hypnotic green eyes away from sight.

Soundlessly, Eros slid his bow off his shoulder. Pulling an arrow from under his cloak, he brought it to his lips and whispered, “
Pharmakos
.” Then, he repeated the familiar process of placing the arrow in the string of his bow and drawing back the missile. Eros took aim and prepared to release the arrow.

But then he faltered.

Something in the back of his mind - or perhaps the back of his heart - prevented him from actually following through. He’d been sent to destroy the second mortal who’d rejected him, but right then she already seemed ruined. He wondered why Psyche was sobbing. Had someone hurt her the same way his own heart had been crushed?

In the seconds that he paused, Psyche raised her head. Wiping her tear-stained face with the back of her hand, she rose from the bench like smoke wafting from a fire.
 

“I don’t know who you are, but if you think a guy with an arrow is my biggest concern right now, you’re wrong.” She squared her shoulders and tossed her hair behind her shoulders. “Get out.”

If he’d been listening, he’d have heard Psyche kick him out of her home a second time. But her words weren’t registering. How had he missed it? She wasn’t like the first girl at all. On the surface, they were so similar, but underneath — their cores were completely different. He’d dropped his guard long enough to really feel her,
know
her, the way he could any mortal if he payed attention long enough. Even with tear trails still fresh on her cheeks, Psyche glowed from the inside out.

As a soft breeze carried her heady scent to him, Eros vaguely heard her repeat her command to leave. The words didn’t carry her intended message, but instead bore her soul. Her emotions doused him; poured over him in soothing waves. Her anger and fear pulsed on the surface, but underneath those rhythms was the chorus of her spirit — love, tenderness, good intentions — a package that made Psyche far and away different.

Without realizing he was doing it, Eros lowered his bow. “Psyche,” he muttered just before the arrow grazed his knee. The tip left only the tiniest of scratches, but it was enough.

Eros rushed forward on instinct, grabbing Psyche’s arm and dragging her in close to his chest. Her lips froze in an “O” while her eyes went wide with fear.

What was he doing? Eros shook his head as if the sudden feelings that had just overwhelmed him could be cast aside as easily as shaking off a few drops of rain.

Dropping Psyche’s arm, he backed away. This wasn’t him. He didn’t fall for mortals.
Wouldn’t
fall for mortals. And certainly not his mother’s little minion….

Aphrodite. Could she have set this up somehow? Was she forcing him to love Psyche so he’d change his mind about marrying the girl? His chest labored under ragged breaths as his anger rose. He would not allow her to manipulate him like this. He’d made his choice. Psyche had made her choice.

This couldn’t be happening.

And yet there it was: a need in his core that made it impossible for him to do anything but stare into the loveliest green eyes he’d ever seen. His breathing slowed as a calm washed over him; knowledge that he could find peace again in someone’s embrace. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

His eyes tore from hers and traveled down her arms until he found her hands. Psyche’s hands could give him the comfort he’d been denied the last time he’d tried to love. Why did she have them balled into fists at her side when all he wanted was her to stroke his cheek? How could she not be feeling their connection?

Suddenly Psyche lunged, making a move for something just behind him. The arrow. He stomped on the tip before she could reach it, making it dissolve into a pool of light. Psyche sprawled forward, grasping for the missing weapon. Unable to leave her prone on the ground, Eros leaned down and gently lifted her to feet.

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.