Scorched

by Jendela Tryst

  Psyche looked down and saw a small dagger in her mother’s hand. It was tiny enough to hide in the folds of her skirt but the sharp edge glistened in the firelight. Before Psyche could say anything, her mother spoke again.

  “I pray you will not have to use this. But keep it under your pillow just in case. If he ever tries to do anything you have no wish to do, you strike him.”

  Psyche finally found her voice. “Mama—”

  “You may think you do not need it now. Many a maid was lured into a wolf’s den and never knew it until it was too late. If your husband is as honorable as you claim, then you will never use it and that is fine as well. But if not,” her voice lowered to a soft hiss. “You can slice him like you do the stags you hunt with your father.”

  Psyche, knowing that there was no reasoning with her mother, nodded her consent and took the dagger. There was fear growing in her heart. Her mother always had the power to make her doubt herself. She did not know why. In this woman’s presence, Psyche always felt smaller, less powerful.

  “Where did you get this?” Psyche asked. She did not recognize the dagger, and she was sure she knew all the weapons that were in the house. Oftentimes, she had been the one who purchased them.

  “I had a dream,” Hermena responded. “I had a dream that Erik was attacking you and I stabbed him with this dagger and he melted to the ground like a demon. When I woke up, this dagger was by the bed. I believe it is special and carries some type of power. Just take it. For the sake of a mother who loves her child, take it, so I know there is a chance you will stay safe.”

  Psyche was surprised. She had never heard her mother tell her she loved her. Hermena left the room and Psyche stared at the small weapon. It was tiny, but the blade was sharp. The sheath was ornate, made of reflective metal and ivory. The blade was as smooth and shiny as Mercury’s shield. Psyche remembered the magic of that shield and shivered.

  As she lay on her bed that night, she thought of her husband. She had been so sure of him. Whenever they were together, she always felt so safe. But the longer she was away from him, the more she began to doubt. The situation was so very strange. He was so very strange. She wished so much that she could hear his voice again. That soft tenor that always assured her. But all she heard were the crickets outside, making their usual evening music. And eventually, it lulled her to sleep.

  Chapter 15

  Psyche was on the cliff where she first met Zephyr. She did not know how she got there. It had not been a fortnight yet. The sky was dark, almost black. Something was pulling her to the edge of the cliff.

  “No!” she cried out. It was not the gentle tug of Zephyr. Something was wrong. “No, it is not time!”

  The voice of her husband came from behind her. “You will do as I say!”

  Psyche had never heard him use such an angry tone. She turned but all she could see was the forest behind her and the black shadows beyond.

  “You promised me a fortnight!” she called out. “My father is still not well.”

  “I cannot wait a fortnight. I must have you now!”

  Suddenly, the shadows moved and a black figure was emerging. He was hideous. A beast of the likes she had never seen before. His face was malformed with a twisted flaring pig snout and a dark, snake-like tongue that flicked back and forth. His neck was attached to a dragon’s scaly body with tangled tufts of red hair. His claws dug into the earth and she cold see small worms crawling in and out of his nails.

  “Come to me, now,” he ordered. His black tongue rolled out of his purple mouth and stroked her face.

  Psyche screamed, feeling the wet slickness on her forehead and neck. Suddenly, the dagger was in her hand. She did not know how it got there, but instinctively, she struck, catching the beast’s putrid tongue. She heard its blood-curdling cry. Suddenly its tail whipped forward and struck her.

  She fell to the ground.

  Psyche woke up covered in sweat. The blanket over her had a large tear across it. The dagger was in her hand, and she did not remember ever taking it out of her trunk. Her heart was thundering in her chest.

  It was just a dream. She need not worry.

  Psyche found the sheath on the ground and carefully covered the sharp edge. She was about to put the dagger back in her trunk, but instead, she placed it under her pillow.

  Psyche spent the day by her father’s side, reading to him some of their favorite poems. He listened, smiling, and fell in and out of sleep. He ate very little. After Psyche finished the ballad about Prometheus, she looked up expecting her father to be asleep, but he was looking at her.

  She smiled and touched his hand.

  He spoke with a weak voice. “Psyche, I do not believe I have that much time left in this world.”

  “Father, don’t say that.”

  “Do not fear, my darling. I have been a good and pious man, most of the time. I am not afraid of death or the Underworld. It is a journey that all must make, and I am more than ready to make mine. But I am more afraid for you than anything else. You, who must return to this strange husband of yours.”

  “Father, please don’t be afraid.”

  “Someday, I hope, you will be a mother and you will understand that there is no way to tell a parent not to be afraid for his child. Your mother tells me she had gifted you with a knife.”

  Psyche nodded, trying not to remember her horrible dream.

  “Bring it with you. Keep it near you. To Immortals, we humans may be nothing but playthings, our lives merely baubles for their amusement. But never forget your worth. You are Psyche of Bromeia, youngest, beautiful, and beloved daughter of Paulo and Hermena Halsted of Seventh Hill. A woman whose wisdom and kindness could shame the gods. No, don’t you shush me. You were never arrogant, Psyche. While you were gone, I kept thinking if I ever get the honor of meeting any of the gods in the afterlife, I will scold them for this.”

  Psyche smiled affectionately. “And what a scolding I’m sure you will give.”

  Her father’s eyes twinkled in response. “I will soon have nothing to fear. I will be gone from this life and free of the fickle mercy of the gods. Let Hades judge me. I care not.”

  “But I care. I care, father. I don’t want you to suffer in the afterlife.”

  “My darling, there is no worse suffering than the feeling that I had failed you.”

  Psyche shook her head vigorously. “But you never did! Father, he is good. I promise you. My husband, he would never harm me. He’s had so many chances, so many, and all he does is talk with me. And read with me. We laugh father, like good friends. He taught me this amazing game; you would love it. It has many names, chess or chaturanga or hounds and jackals. I hope they have it where you are going. You would love it!”

  Psyche spoke, hoping she was not revealing too much. She could sense the tension leaving her father. Taking a risk, Psyche began giving him pieces of her life in the palace. She told him just enough to assure him. At one point, she described a joke she shared with her husband, at another, she gave details of an exotic fruit she had been served. Her light, whimsical tone comforted him as much as her words. Eventually, Paul Halsted fell asleep, a peaceful smile on his face.

  Psyche leaned in and kissed him gently on the forehead. When she looked up, she saw that Claudia was by the doorway.

  Psyche jumped. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Not long,” Claudia responded innocently.

  “What did you hear?”

  “Nothing. I just came to tell you supper is ready and mother is waiting.” She turned airily away, her golden hair bobbing behind her.

  Psyche bit her lip. There was no more mention of the conversation with her father until Psyche began preparing for bed. When she entered her room, she saw Claudia sitting on the bed, holding the knife.

  “Claudia, put that down! What are you doing here?”

  Claudia’s eyes were insolent, but she slowly sheathed the knife and extended it to Psyche.

  “If your husband is as w
onderful as you told father, why do you keep the knife?”

  Psyche snatched the knife away. “To assure mother. And it is none of your business! You should not snoop in my room.”

  “Why do you have the knife under your pillow? Do you think the beast will find out you told father and me all about him and hurt you?”

  “I tire of this conversation. I did not tell you anything. You eavesdropped.”

  “You spoke when he forbade it,” Claudia reminded her.

  Psyche closed her eyes, willing herself not to lose her temper. “What is it you want, Claudia?”

  Claudia reached out and grasped Psyche’s arms. “I want you to take me with you!”

  Psyche tried to pull away. “Claudia, I can’t do that just yet. I have to ask permission. Perhaps, next time I return...”

  “Next time? What next time?”

  “I’m sure if I keep my word and return as promised, I’ll be able to see all of you again.”

  Claudia’s voice was turning desperate. “Don’t you know how hard it is to live here? Don’t you care at all? No one will marry me here!”

  “Claudia, you are beautiful, and clever. And kind when you wish to be. You will find your match. If not here, then perhaps in Pella.”

  “I don’t want to move to Pella! And I don’t want to marry just anyone! I want what you have!”

  Psyche shook her head, unable to comprehend her sister. “You do not know what you are saying. I’m with him because I have no choice.”

  “Yes, you do. You can stay here with us if you wanted, but you don’t. That means you must like it there. That means it must be better than here.”

  “That is not what it means.”

  “You are lying! You want to keep him all to yourself. You are selfish. Selfish!”

  Claudia stormed out and Psyche sat wearily on her bed. She was used to arguing with her sister. They had done it often enough. However, she did not expect to have to deal with it during her short stay. And about such a subject! Share her husband with her sister? Claudia had gone insane.

  For a while, Psyche could not fall asleep. She kept thinking about the terrible dream she had. She did not understand why she would have them now. She never had such dreams at the palace. Now that she thought of it, she rarely felt sadness or even homesickness while she was there. It was only after Mercury’s visit. Now that she was back in her village, back in the world of mortals, the heavy feelings were weighing her down again, like rocks piling in her pockets. Psyche found that she couldn’t wait to return, to see the waterfalls again, to smell the flowers in the garden, to prance about the woods.

  To talk to him again.

  Psyche fell asleep thinking of his voice. Thinking of the tears that wet his face. Monsters did not weep like that.

  Chapter 16

  Psyche was on a hill again, but a different one. It was the one where Erik was supposed to meet her so that they could elope. Psyche looked up and saw that the sky was blue and the sun was warm. But the wind was not right. It was blowing the long grass, but she could barely feel it. She was dreaming again.

  Psyche willed herself to be brave. It was her dream. It was her mind. She could keep it pleasant if she tried. She thought of a butterfly and willed it to appear on her hand. When she blinked, a blue butterfly appeared, a warm reminder that she was indeed, the one in power. Very soon, the butterfly began to struggle against the fierce breeze. As Psyche watched the butterfly whirl away, a lulling voice came from behind.

  Psyche froze. She recognized the voice.

  “Hello, Psyche.”

  Taking a deep breath, she turned. There was Erik, looking as beautiful as she remembered. His golden hair tousled, his blue eyes mesmerizing. Funny, Psyche had almost forgotten what he looked like. His memory always stirred feelings, but the details of his face were starting to fade in her memory like an ancient drawing on a forgotten tomb.

  “Hello, Erik,” Psyche was relieved by how steady her voice sounded. It was her dream after all.

  Erik took a step towards her. “Psyche. How I’ve missed you.”

  “You could have returned.” Psyche pointed out. “There was no reason to stop you.”

  “I am sorry. Will you ever forgive me?”

  “No need to be sorry. Everything turned out for the best.”

  Erik looked surprised. “The best? Were you not sacrificed to a horrible monster?”

  “No. I was given to a creature of infinite beauty, capable of the deepest love. Someone much better than you.”

  Erik blinked. “Is he more handsome?”

  “Physical beauty does not matter. He is good. And he puts my feelings above his own. He loves me, which is more than I can say for you.”

  Erik dared to look petulant. “So easily you forget me.”

  Psyche took a step forward. Her voice was low and dangerous. “How dare you? How dare you try to make me feel guilty? You who left me.” The knife appeared in her hand again.

  Erik was backing away towards the woods.

  “Barely a word,” Psyche continued relentlessly. “Barely a message. That was the cruelest thing you could ever have done! And now I am finally able to forget you. To move on and to be happy and you try to take this from me as well.”

  “Beloved—.”

  “I am not your beloved! Don’t you ever call me that again! Now, get out. I hope to never see you again!”

  Erik turned and retreated into the woods.

  Psyche smiled and slowly woke up.

  Hermes frowned, pacing in his palace. He was exhausted. Two nights he had visited Psyche’s dreams, and each time, she managed to thwart him. She was not as easy to influence as he thought. Eros’s hold over her was strong. Eros must have struck Psyche several times with his arrows to make her so loyal to him. So far, no one seemed to know she was in Bromeia, but someone was bound to take notice eventually. Hermes was running out of time!

  When a servant announced Eros’s arrival, out of habit, Hermes cleared his thoughts. Then he remembered that Eros could not read minds.

  “Let him enter,” Hermes ordered his winged servant.

  Eros appeared weary, as if he had not slept in days. Yet, even with his hair mussed and his lids heavy, Eros was still the better looking of the two. Hermes tried not to get jealous.

  “How is she?” Eros asked immediately.

  “And good afternoon to you, too.”

  The boy had the grace to look contrite. “You are the only one I can ask. You are the only one who can tell me.”

  Eyeing Eros’s desperate and haggard face, Hermes took pity. “See for yourself,” and gestured to the shield leaning against a chair.

  Hermes was impressed by how quickly Eros conjured Psyche’s image. She was sitting by her father, reading a papyrus. Hermes watched as the hard lines on Eros’s face softened and the tenderness returned to his eyes. Hermes recalled Psyche’s face when he appeared in her dream as Erik. She would not be pleased when she found out that the two were the same. He hoped to be very far away when this happened.

  Finally, Eros looked up from the shield, satisfied with what he saw. “And no one knows she is there?”

  “Not yet.”

  Eros seemed satisfied. “Thank you. I bid you good day.”

  “Wait a bit. So cold you are, as if I’m just a dirty rug to wipe your sandals on! Have a drink with me. It has been a while since you graced my palace, so busy you’ve been with all your scheming.”

  Eros hesitated.

  Hermes’s voice softened. “I am not your enemy, Eros. Did I not assist you, just now?”

  When Eros finally strode to a chaise, Hermes snapped his finger. A dragon with two heads entered. Hermes ordered him to bring some wine and refreshments for his guest. Once the food was settled, Hermes looked hard at his companion. Eros obviously missed her. And Hermes needed to know more about her. It was a perfect opportunity.

  “So, tell me more about your Psyche.”

  Eros looked surprised.

  “Sometimes,
” Hermes explained, “it is nice to talk about someone when you miss them. Tell me more about her. What is your favorite trait?”

  Eros’s smile was part dreamy, part bashful. The boy was so besotted! Hermes took a sip of wine, glad his thoughts could not be read.

  “It’s like picking the most beautiful color of a rainbow! She is just so... I cannot explain it. She is always surprising me. Always making me laugh, always saying something unexpected. You met her. What did you think?”

  Hermes hesitated. “She is certainly... special.” He remembered, with irritation, the ferocity with which Psyche had stabbed him with that knife. At the time, he had been furious. He was in the shape of a dragon and his tail had struck out before he could stop it. The hellcat woke up, escaping him. He could understand, now, why she was not afraid to explore those woods. Begrudgingly, Hermes admitted she had courage. “She is quite special. It also helps that she is wrapped in a very fine package, yes?”

  Eros frowned. Hermes sighed at his mistake. Clearly, no man wanted to hear another man talk about how lustful his wife’s body was. Hermes was still not used to this new Eros.

  “And,” Hermes continued reluctantly, “probably one of the more impressive mortals I’ve met in a while. Not that I mingle too much with mortals.”

  Eros’s smile lit up the room. “Mortals? Impressive for a mortal?”