I lifted my head from the pillow, my interest piqued. ‘I like archery as well.’
‘Then perhaps we can practice together sometime,’ he murmured, his words melting together. After some time, faint snoring rose from his side of the bed. I had not known that gods snored.
As he slept, I occupied myself with thoughts of strategy. Tomorrow I would resume my hunt for the monster that had destroyed the Mycenaean village. Though my sword had been lost, perhaps I could find a lance or bow. I would seek out this creature and kill it, and then everything would make sense.
Though I had been certain that I would never sleep again, my exhaustion along with the softness of the bed and the evenness of Cupid’s breathing eventually soothed me. My eyes finally closed, and I fell into a dreamless sleep.
Eros
What does it say about the difference between gods and mortals, that you might mistake one for the other in the dark? I have often wondered about this. Sight reveals the gods’ true nature,as our beauty is too piercing to be anything other than divine, but in the darkness all things are equal.
I woke before dawn and realized with a sense of marvel that I had slept the whole night through. I waited for the crushing longing of the curse to sink its talons into me, but it did not come. Instead, there was only the sweetness that came from a craving indulged. I sat up and looked to my side; Psyche was still with me.
The door was cracked open from our confrontation last night, and dull yellow sunlight illuminated the hallway. Psyche was sprawled awkwardly on the bed above the covers, arms and legs akimbo, still wearing that ridiculous dirty armour and taking up far more space than seemed possible for one woman. Yet all I could think of was her loveliness – better still, when she slept, I could enjoy the heady pleasure of the curse fulfilled without trying to manage all her questions. I propped my chin on a hand and gazed at her.
I loved Psyche, but I wasn’t sure what to make of the girl herself. She was loud, restless, and more than a little spoiled. She was relentless when something caught her attention, seizing it the way a terrier grabs a rat. Her interest in weapons was peculiar. But Psyche was here with me, safe from Aphrodite’s wrath, and the curse purred like a kitten in her presence. That was enough for now.
Misgivings gnawed at the corners of my mind. Why had I lied to her?Cupid, I said my name was. There was a place along the Etruscan coast, a small village set in the middle of seven hills, where the people spoke a tongue as even and regular as cut marble. It was my name in this, the Latin language, that I had given to Psyche.
If I had been forthright with Psyche that night, what would she have said? A love god cursed to suffer his own gift – wouldshe have accepted me as her husband? Of course not. Psyche would have fled, a risk I could not allow, since I was certain that Aphrodite would find her.
I was shaken from my thoughts as Psyche stirred and rolled over in her sleep. It was dangerous to linger in the light like this. Hurriedly, I left the room.
Zephyrus was waiting for me outside. He leaned against the cool stone of the cliffs in the faint light of morning, right where I had left him the evening prior. I wondered if he had stayed there all night.
‘How did you enjoy my little gift?’ the wind god said, grinning wickedly. ‘You are cured of your lovesickness – how wonderful! You haven’t thanked me yet.’
Zephyrus could be as irritating as a gadfly, but even I had to admit that his jest had resulted in the first night of peaceful sleep I’d enjoyed since the curse had taken hold. I shrugged noncommittally.
‘Now, tell me all about your wedding night.’ Zephyrus placed his hands on his cheeks in anticipation.
‘She hit me with a fire-poker,’ I replied flatly.
Zephyrus laughed. ‘Mortals certainly are full of surprises, aren’t they? But I’m more interested in what happened afterwards.’ His eyes glittered with prurient curiosity, and his eyebrows waggled.
‘Nothing,’ I replied. ‘We went to sleep.’
‘Sleep?’ Zephyrus was incredulous. ‘No consummation of desire, no passionate lovemaking after you finally managed to get her alone? What’s gotten into you? Perhaps you should use one of your arrows, if you want to be sure she reciprocates.’
I reared back at the suggestion, revolted. The memory of Anteia rose in my consciousness, her delicate fingers tying the noose around her neck. ‘Never,’ I hissed.
Zephyrus tilted his head. ‘Why not?’
Because I don’t want to hurt her,I wanted to say.Because I will not compel what should be chosen freely. But this was only the curse sinking its claws into me once more.
‘Stop, Zephyrus,’ I said instead, beginning to lose patience. ‘Psyche was confused and far from home. She didn’t want to do anything.’
Zephyrus looked at me as though I was an oceanid from the deepest trenches of the sea or a satyr from the trackless forest, not a friend he’d known since the beginning of the world. ‘When has that ever mattered before?’ he asked.
He had a point. When had gods ever cared about the thoughts or feelings of a mortal, even one they loved? Adonis’s desires hadn’t mattered to Persephone when she’d asked me for the favour of my arrow. Nor had Apollo had Hyacinthos’s best interests at heart when he’d killed the youth in a fit of jealous rage.
Perhaps Prometheus truly cared about the mortals, but Prometheus was a criminal and had been punished dearly for his crimes.
What god had ever set aside his or her own needs for those of a mortal? I had, it seemed. The thought left me uneasy.
The gods have only one word for love, but perhaps they can learn more.
9
