Zephyrus nodded gravely. ‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘The curse. I’m pleased to hear he’s managing that well.’
‘What curse?’ I asked, frowning. Cupid made no mention of such a thing, but perhaps it explained the peculiarities of the night before.
‘Oh, you know,’ Zephyrus waved dismissively. ‘That rule against seeing each other’s faces. You understand, surely.’
I didn’t understand in the slightest, but I wasn’t going to plead to this strange god for answers. I trusted him even less than Cupid. ‘I hardly think confining me to darkness counts as managing things well,’ I remarked. ‘Who on earth would marry someone they cannot even look upon?’
‘Someone driven to distraction by love,’ Zephyrus replied.
I blinked in shock. My husband had said nothing about love, though I had sensed some affection in his voice. Perhaps it was love that had driven him to risk the wrath of a curse – though I was the one who would suffer if we saw each other face-to-face.
I looked again at Zephyrus. Lounging against the terrace railing in a posture of calculated ease, he vibrated with unsaid words like a nest of bees.
‘Zephyrus,’ I said suddenly. ‘Who is my husband? Who is he really?’
He grinned. ‘I was hoping you would ask.’ He produced a vial of liquid in one of his long-fingered hands, seemingly from nowhere, and held it out to me for inspection. ‘This potion will allow you to perceive the true nature of things. One who drinks it can see even in the darkest of nights. I think it willsatisfy your curiosity well enough.’ He bestowed a broad grin upon me, eyes flashing with delight.
I took the vial from him and examined it, tilting it up and down to watch the contents move sluggishly within. I frowned, eyeing Zephyrus warily.
With a roll of his eyes and a heavy exhale, the wind god snatched the vial back from me and uncapped it. He looked at me pointedly as he tossed down a measure of its contents and swallowed. Then he handed it back to me with a flourish.
‘There,’ Zephryus said. ‘See? Not poisoned.’
I crossed my arms and raised my chin. ‘You are immortal, and I am not,’ I replied.
Zephyrus eyed me. ‘If I wanted you dead, I would have dropped you from that cliff instead of bringing you here. Believe me, your husband would never let me hear the end of it if you died, and an immortal can hold a grudge for a very long time.’
I looked down at the vial again, still half-full. Curiosity drove its spurs into me as though I was an unruly horse. I had to know who my so-called husband was; the need consumed me.
‘Though, if you are a coward,’ Zephyrus goaded archly, ‘I’ll take the tincture back.’
That was enough. Fortune favoured the brave, and besides, when had I ever refused a challenge? I threw aside the cap and drank the contents in a single gulp.
All at once, a shudder ran through me. The bottle fell from my hands as the terrace rapidly expanded in size. But even as my bones shrank and rearranged themselves, even as I knew that I had been deceived, I felt no pain or fear. I caught a glimpse of Zephyrus’s pale eyes as they crinkled with laughter,but by then my thoughts were reduced to one single-pointed commandment:Fly.
I rose from the abandoned chiton, my wings lifting me higher and higher into the morning air.
10
Eros
When I returned to the seaside house with the shadows of evening, I expected to find Psyche there. Perhaps she would be lounging by the table, or perhaps she would already be in bed. The curse thrilled at the thought of her voice, the possibility of her touch.
I did not expect what I found: an array of smashed furniture and broken plates, and at the centre of it all, Aphrodite.
Her olive skin had taken on a reddish hue from exertion, and her chest rose and fell dramatically. Her hair was lank around her face, like that of a drowned woman. I had never seen Aphrodite like this in all the centuries I had known her. She looked reduced, almost mortal.
Psyche, where is Psyche?Aphrodite hadn’t found her, that much was clear. Otherwise, she would have greeted me with the girl’s mangled corpse. Wherever Psyche was, I hoped she had the good sense to stay put until I could evict Aphrodite.
‘You killed him,’ Aphrodite snarled. The words seemed to be wrenched from her by sheer force of grief. Her eyes were red and swollen.
I closed the door behind me and tried not to appeardisconcerted by her sudden appearance. ‘Dear Mother, I have no idea who you could possibly mean.’
‘Adonis!’ Aphrodite wailed. The name brought a fresh wave of tears down her cheeks, and she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. It took me a moment to recall the young mortal man, dead these past few months. My gift to Persephone. I hadn’t killed him, not exactly – that had been the boar’s fault. But I doubted Aphrodite would appreciate the difference.
‘My lover,’ she choked. ‘I had not seen him for some time. When I went to confront him for his negligence, I found out he was dead. Dead!’ She wailed the last words, drawing her nails along her beautiful face. ‘Adonis is gone forever. I will never touch him again, never feel him next to me. He is nothing but cold mist in the Underworld, and I am alone.’ Her words trailed into sobs.
I felt a twinge, knowing I would be lost if such a thing happened to Psyche. But I could not reveal my role in Adonis’s death, so I feigned carelessness. ‘Ah, such a shame. It’s a pity that mortals don’t live very long. Zephyrus lost one recently as well. Perhaps you two could comfort each other.’
