I think I would have fallen if Zephyrus had not been there to hold me up. I had committed everything I had to the cause, and still I had failed. My centuries hung around my neck like an anchor, my divinity worthless as dogshit. I would watch asPsyche’s sleep transitioned to death and her body mouldered into dust.
The baskets were packed away. One by one the gods began to drift from the room, drawn by more lively entertainments elsewhere. Dimly I was aware of Aphrodite’s self-satisfied grin, of Demeter’s shouts of protest and Hekate’s muttered cursing. Zeus patted my shoulder in sympathy as he departed, and even Apollo offered a friendly smile.
In time the hall was as empty as it had been at the beginning, dull and distant as a tomb. I stared at the marble floor and imagined Psyche dissolving into cold smoke in the Underworld. Not even Gaia’s miracle could save her.
Eventually only I, Zephyrus, Hekate, and Demeter remained in the cold, empty hall. When it was clear there was nothing more to be done, Hekate stood. ‘Let us go to Eleusis, Eros. Go to your Psyche, and be with her at the end.’
No.Fury blazed through me like a wildfire, and I fell to my knees and clutched Hekate’s robes. It was a gamble, but I had nothing else.
‘When has a goddess bowed to any authority but her own?’ I demanded. ‘When has Hekate Soteira abandoned a supplicant? Give Psyche the gift of apotheosis, with or without the other gods’ permission. You know the recipe well enough.’
Zephyrus gave a whoop of delight, and Demeter muttered pensively. But Hekate merely looked at me with eyes that blazed like torches in her withered face.
Please, I thought.If Psyche dies, I will never be finished mourning her. I may not deserve her, but this world does.
‘Very well,’ Hekate said, standing and brushing off her skirts. ‘I didn’t yank that little Psyche out of the edges of the Underworld only to be thwarted. We tried it one way, and now we’ll try it the other. Let us get to work.’
42
Eros
I watched as Hekate prepared the brew of apotheosis, moving with such assurance that she might have prepared it every day. A bit of spiderweb, a touch of dried herbs, a silvery strand that Hekate insisted came from a unicorn’s mane. All pounded with a mortar and pestle and added to a low cauldron suspended over a fire. I wondered if Psyche or I would be punished for this transgression, though neither of us could be killed after apotheosis took hold. Zeus and Aphrodite would be furious, but likely the other gods would consider it nothing but a minor curiosity. They cared only about themselves.
As I watched, I realized that Hekate’s origins were still a mystery to me. Perhaps she had been born a mortal herself, changed into a goddess by her own sorcery. Certainly that would explain the nature of her magic – half-feral, spilling its bounds, existing along the edges of the world. Usually the gods kept to their allotted domains and disdained sly tricks like witchcraft; only a mortal would be such a generalist. But I knew better than to ask such things.
Hekate handed me the cup, a milky liquid that caught the light with a flash of rainbow. ‘Bring it to Psyche,’ she told me. ‘Have her drink it. I will leave you two to your reunion.’
Psyche was in one of the rooms in Eleusis, laid out on a marble slab, unmoving as the stone itself. Lamps were set into the stone, casting a flickering light over the scene that brought to mind the last time I had seen her in the bedroom of the seaside house. The sight of her was like a splinter in my heart, and terror warred with joy within me. When Psyche had loved me before, it had been in darkness. I was none too sure she would want me in the light.
At Psyche’s side was Demeter, fierce as a guard dog. When I entered the room, she rose and pulled me aside.
‘Your lies nearly destroyed her,’ Demeter snarled. ‘And then you left her alone. If Psyche never wants to see you again after this day, that is as much as you deserve.’
I stared at her.Is it not enough that I was cursed,I wanted to say. Or kept in chains by Aphrodite, or that I descended into the Underworld to send a message to your daughter?Is it not enough that I have been tormented by guilt for exactly the things you describe, every moment that I was separated from Psyche?
But none of that mattered now. Demeter was right. My lies had caused all of this, and now I could only try to make amends.
‘Perhaps Psyche will hate me. Perhaps she will never want to see my face again,’ I replied. ‘I am making a choice for her that cannot be unmade. But many are the choices that will flow from this one, and at least she willlive.’
Demeter left the room. I turned to Psyche, motionless as marble, and sank to my knees beside her as I thought about Demeter’s words. I was none too sure that immortality was a gift. Certainly I hadn’t taken easily to mine. But there was no other way to save Psyche.
I tilted the cup to Psyche’s lips and massaged her throat until she swallowed. A few drops, then a few more, tilting her head to ensure she didn’t choke. As I did so, I watched herface intensely, looking for a flash of light or some other proof of transformation. Already the elixir was travelling through her body and turning it into that of a god, but I could see no outward evidence of this process save for a faint, growing illumination.
Psyche opened her eyes.
Brown eyes, which I had seen all too briefly or through the borrowed lens of animal forms. Elation rushed through me like the springtime wind.If nothing else comes of this,I thought,at least I was able to see her one last time.
Outside the little room, life went on as usual. The priestesses went about their business in the temple, and the gods bickered and backstabbed. Beyond them, mortals farmed and fought, and sheep grazed in a thousand meadows. The sun and moon wheeled through the sky as they always had. But in that room, at that moment, time stood still.
Psyche’s eyes were wide. I hoped, wildly, that the transfixed expression on her face was awe rather than shock or dread. The first words from her lips, in the voice I had longed to hear over so many nights, were ‘Oh, fuck.’
An oath, a statement, a question. She stared at me as though I was an apparition.
Words sought to burst from my tongue like a flowing cataract.I’ve finally found you, I wanted to say.You’re really here. I thought I lost you. I’m so sorry. Or another set of words, one I had not said aloud before:I love you.
Instead, I said, ‘Psyche, your hair is different.’
Those brown eyes blinked. She raised her hand to touch the stubble on her head. ‘It is.’
