It was a poet’s imagining of a house, a place that could only exist in the wildest of dreams. I could not find a single flaw – not a speck of mould or crack in the ceiling. Who lived here? Who commanded such wealth?
When I passed by the room with the great table again, I gasped. Only moments before the table had been empty. Now a feast had been laid out: a glistening roast lamb, wrapped grape leaves, three different kinds of bread, and brightly colouredroasted vegetables. Such a spread could only have been prepared by a large staff working in a noisy kitchen and carried in by bustling servants, but the yawning silence of the seaside house remained undisturbed.
I had not eaten since that morning. My stomach sent up a growl like the cry of a wolf, and I glanced around. Well, if there was no one around to claim this untended feast, then I would. I fell on it at once, tearing the bread with my hands and using it to scoop up the rest. I drank from the ewer of clear sweet water until it dripped down my chin.
When I’d had my fill, I sat up and contemplated my situation. Could this be Nestor’s doing? What if my opposition to the marriage resulted in my kidnapping? But this was certainly not Pylos, and no royal abode would be empty of guards or attendants.
I wandered back the way I’d come, planning to inspect the perimeter of the property once more. With a shock, I realized that the door I had broken down upon my arrival was back on its hinges, the wood unsplintered and whole. The hair on the back of my neck prickled as I ran my hands over the fine-grained wood in disbelief. A repair like this would have taken days, if it could be accomplished at all.
I should have been terrified, though this place was too tranquil to inspire fear. Yet I could not forget that it had been a monster’s threat that lured me here. I could not let my guard down; I had to remain alert.
I sat by the window and watched as the sun sank down to the distant horizon. Shadows lengthened and vibrant colours drained to muted tones. I resigned myself to the increasingly clear reality that I would spend the night in this strange place. Better here than in the wilderness, although who knew what the dark would bring.
I began to formulate a plan. I’d seen a small firepit on the terrace with a poker nearby. I padded through the shadowed halls and snatched the rod up, then brought it into the windowless bedroom with me. At least here there was only one point of entry.
I closed the door and shoved a low trunk in front of it. If someone tried to come in, the door would catch on the trunk. Then I would make my move.
I sat on the bed, my shoulders drawn together in wary watchfulness. I pulled out the knife I’d stowed in my boot and gripped it in one clenched fist, the poker in the other, my nerves thrilling at the inevitability of conflict. When the master of this peculiar place returned, I would be ready.
Eros
Zephyrus was waiting for me when I arrived that evening. He leaned over the balustrade of the terrace, the last light of evening playing along his face, highlighting the smug, self-satisfied grin he wore.
‘There’s a surprise waiting for you inside,’ he said in a singsong voice.
I frowned. ‘Depositing strange nymphs or satyrs in my bed will not mitigate the effects of the curse.’
Zephyrus laid a hand to his breast in exaggerated outrage. ‘As if I would ever be so gauche. No, no, my friend. I’ve brought you the princess herself.’
I froze, a white-hot knife of panic sliding into my ribs. ‘Psyche?’
‘None other!’ my friend beamed.
I could only stare at him in stunned silence – the kind that comes between a flash of lighting and a roar of thunder.
‘Zephyrus,’ I said, and though I managed to keep my tone light, it carried a chill. ‘Are your wits as wandering as your winds?’
‘I thought this was what you wanted,’ he said with hollow sweetness.
‘If you found an ugly weed, would you plant its seeds in my terrace garden?’ I forced out through gritted teeth. ‘If there was a food that made me ill, would you serve it to me for lunch? Why then, I ask, would you think thatthiswas a good idea?’
‘Oh, come now, old friend,’ Zephyrus said. ‘Don’t I deserve a word of thanks? She’s yours now.’ A wicked smile crept over his face, and I knew that this had been no mistake. He had not forgiven me for the antidote that should have been his.
I ran a hand through my hair in exasperation. ‘We are doomed if we look upon each other’s faces. And now she is inmy house.’
Zephyrus waggled a finger. ‘It’s only a problem if you actuallyseeeach other, correct? Visit her by night and the problem is solved! I even took the liberty of removing all the lamps from your house.’
My mouth fell open and I stared at him. ‘And why on earth would Psyche invite the company of a shadow? She doesn’t know who I am.’
‘Worry not,’ Zephyrus crowed. ‘Mortal women are easy enough to appease, and I’ve already thought of a solution. Simply tell her that you are her new husband, then she won’t mind.’
Most mortal women would, in fact, mind this quite a bit. But Zephyrus knew little about the proclivities of human women, and I knew even less. The specificities of marriage variedwidely between human societies, and I could never keep track of the differences. Marriage was Hera’s realm; it was desire that belonged to me, and desire was the same everywhere.
Zephyrus was looking at me expectantly. His trap had been set; now I had no choice but to step into its snare.
But perhaps not all was lost. I thought of Psyche, her graceful neck and dark hair and slim ankles, always beyond my reach. To have her here was a gift I had never expected, a possibility I had never dared entertain. And though I knew this could not end well, a peculiar feeling rose in me. It took me a moment to recognize it as hope.
‘Zephyrus,’ I said slowly, closing my eyes and pinching my nose. ‘This is the stupidest idea I have ever heard. If your foolish stratagem backfires, I will make you fall in love with a hedgehog.’
