“You can see me? The binding has been broken!” A pretty smile filled her face until I collapsed into the nearest chair, heaving for air. I barely noticed Mino jumping at me excitedly, and then running to hike a leg on the bed.
“I have ruined everything,” I said, my breaths coming fast and short. “I—I…” I pointed to the candle on the floor, hot wax splattered against the marble.
She stared at it, her hand on her chest, shaking her head. “You didn’t.” She turned saddened eyes on me. “Oh, dear. It was your sisters, wasn’t it? I knew something bad had happened!”
“I should never have doubted.”
“Oh, Princess.” She knelt and hugged me, rubbing my back. I didn’t deserve her kindness. “You must go to the temple of Venus.” She pulled away to hold my shoulders and look into my eyes. “Go. Beg for her mercy. Tell her how you feel for her son!”
“But I broke the rules! What will she do to me?”
“I don’t know,” she said frankly. “May the gods have mercy.” Renae kissed my forehead and called to the windows. “Zephyr!”
I stared as the god of the west wind flew gently into the room, smaller than Cupid, his hair and wings dark in color, his face lovely and delicate. He nodded at me.
“Zep,” Renae said frantically. “You need to take Psyche to the temple of Venus at once. She broke the binding. There is no time to waste.”
“Where is Cupid?” His melodious voice was soft and comforting.
“I don’t know! Take her—go!” She shoved me toward him and he lifted me easily.
“Maybe I should wait for him to return?” I began, but he was already lifting me into the air. “Renae!” I called. “Take care of Mino and Sphinx!”
She bent and lifted the puppy as Sphinx leapt onto the window sill. The three of them watched Zephyr fly me away. I held tight around his shoulders and pressed my forehead to his neck, praying silently all the while.
Cupid, my husband, forgive me. Venus, celestial goddess…hear my heart.
CUPID
One Year Earlier…
“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
Nor hath love’s mind of any judgment taste;
Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste.
And therefore is love said to be a child
Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.”
~William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream
GODDESS IMPOSTOR
Cupid perched his lithe body in a twisted, thick olive tree overlooking a winery and inn. More often than not, humans disgusted him, yet he could never stay away. The very idea of their souls was fascinating, especially since he was the only god who could sense that brightness or dimness from within each human. It helped him decide who to punish and who to gift.
But mostly who to punish.
He was not permitted to kill their mortal bodies and send their souls to the Underworld, but he could bring chaos to their dull lives by playing on their emotions. Most knew him as the god of love, but he was more than that. He was the god of sensuality and eroticism. With his nature, wreaking havoc on humans was too simple.
Right now, he spied the wife of the winery innkeeper stomping grapes with two fellow employees, skirts lifted to their thighs, as her husband entertained prestigious guests inside. Indeed, the night before he had entertained the daughter of a guest once his wife and the girl’s parents had fallen asleep.
For a human male, the innkeeper was attractive, but his soul was muddied by vanity and a constant need to have his physical prowess validated. It was this weakness—the human male’s blatant desperation—that earned the wrath of the youngest god.
Cupid’s fingers ran deftly up and down the strings of his bow as he pondered his arsenal of tonics. Along his low-slung belt, he carried potions with the ability to temporarily heighten almost any human emotion: anger, sadness, humor, regret, and yes…love. Though love, being complicated, was the most temporary of all. Love started as a series of attraction followed closely by interest, then adoration. But then love morphed into something more significant, requiring action, not just feeling. Humans had to choose each day to continue on that path of devotion and loyalty, and often it was simply too much work for their meager minds and bodies.
No creatures were as easily bored, distracted, or ungrateful as humans. Except, perhaps, gods.
But gods were not weak, and Cupid would never love. Not in the foolhardy way humans did. Unlike them, he was immortal and never in a hurry. Never hasty. Never in need of validation. His confidence was as eternal as his body. Someday his perfect goddess would be created, and they would find one another. His mother would be sure of it—a flawless match. Cupid had faith in the future. For now, he was content to meddle in the lives of those on Earth, and when the urge took him, to shift into his mortal disguise and sate his appetite with human women.
In fact, the innkeeper’s wife was looking more attractive the longer he watched her dancing in the fruit, legs staining purple and red, a light sheen of sweat along her brow. He had punished many mortal men by having their women for a night. Cupid had always enjoyed the causticness of it. Where his true form was golden and awe-inspiring, his chosen human form was dark and intriguing. Both stunning in their own ways, but human women cherished a dangerous challenge.
A light tingle along his skin alerted him of the presence of another god. He turned on his branch to find his mother approaching, a vision of beauty gliding across the swaying grass, slowly being lifted by small clouds that puffed into and out of existence with each graceful step, like a staircase leading up to his perch in the tree.
The goddess of love was able to take away the breath of even the mightiest of gods. To Cupid, her presence was the ultimate comfort, for she alone loved him. He could tell from the pursed pout of her lips she was not pleased.
“What is it, Mother?”
Instead of answering immediately, she glimpsed the women below, nearly finished with their grape crushing.
“Why do you humor yourself in such a way, my son?” She touched the bluish-white waves that framed his face, her eyes searching the pronounced bow of his lips, turned down. “I worry you spend too much time among their kind and not your own. Are you lonely? Shall I speak to Jupiter about a match for you?”
Cupid took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before dropping it. He would not ask the king of the gods for anything. The last time he’d gone to Jupiter, hoping to find out his true paternal parentage, the god had laughed in his face and said, “If your mother does not know which of her many lovers sired you, then it is not your fate to know either.”
As far as Cupid knew, Jupiter was not one of his possible fathers, but the king of the gods had been burned by the exploits of Venus and was forced to put out one too many firestorms started by her antics. So be it.
“No. It will happen on its own when the time is right.”
“A romantic,” Venus said, earning a glare from her son that made her laugh.
A bird flew near, alighting itself on a nearby branch to catch Venus’s attention.
The goddess peered up. “Winged creature, if you relieve yourself anywhere near me I will smite you.”
The bird puffed up its feathers and flew away.
Cupid grinned. “Be kind to the poor beasts.”
She eyed his feathers with admiration—snowy white, edged in smoke gray, his wingspan impressive. “You are the only winged creature I trust.”
Silence fell until Cupid asked, “Why have you sought me, Mother?”
All traces of humor and ease faded from her face. “I have been wronged by a human, and I seek your help.”
Cupid’s hand tightened on his bow. “Who has dared wrong you, Mother?”
“A girl.” She practically snarled the words, and Cupid’s brow drew tight. It had been over a century since a human had earned his mother’s ire. He couldn’t imagine what a mere girl could have done to catch th
e attention of Venus, much less upset her so.
“Tell me everything.” And so, she did, beginning with the island where the girl resided, and he stopped her. “Wait. Did we not visit there recently? The king and queen with pure souls?”
“Yes,” she spat. “The very same ones who had been trying years for a child. The queen was barren, so I blessed them with fertility. Now they have three daughters, and the third believes herself as beautiful as me.”
Cupid laughed outright. “How old is this silly girl, Mother?”
“She is not a simple, silly child,” Venus assured him. “She is nearly of marrying age. And for the past year she has accepted gifts from the people that should have been for me. She has turned the eye of my worshipers, stealing my offerings and relishing praise meant for me. My alters in the surrounding area have been bare. They say…” Venus stopped to compose herself. “They say she is more beautiful than me.”
“Impossible.” A name tickled the back of Cupid’s mind, a name he’d heard murmured among humans in passing. “Is she, by chance, Psyche?”
Venus’s eyes blazed. “Of course, you have heard of her! Have you seen her? What are her flaws?”
“No, Mother.” Cupid shook his head. “I have never seen her.” The name Psyche had stood out to him because it translated to Soul. Now, hearing of her vanity and audacity, the name was ironic. Her soul would have to be completely polluted to think she could compete with a goddess.
“What would you have me do?” Cupid asked. Girl or not, he would punish the imposter goddess, reminding her exactly who and what she was.
A wicked smile played across the naturally red lips of Venus. “I would have you humiliate her. Make her think she has fallen in love with the most hideous and vile of men. Someone far beneath her station. Make her devotion for him so powerful that she would elope with the monster to break the heart of her parents who turned their backs on me, forgetting the blessings I gave them.”
Cupid nodded, his wicked grin joining hers. “Consider it done.”
FRIENDLY FIRE
It was not the first time Cupid had been sent on a mission by his mother, and he was certain it would not be the last. It honored him to be trusted by Venus above all others.
The moment Cupid spotted the island from afar he was reminded of when he had been there last. Everything from the briny warmth of the air to the layout of the long island, starting flat at one end with fields and orchards, and layering upward to the summit of its palace and royal fortress surrounded by rocky edges that fell majestically into lagoons and gully caves. He thought it was breathtaking then, for an Earth place, and it was just as gorgeous to him now. It soured his attitude knowing the rulers had forsaken their gods, especially his mother who had taken time to personally see to their fertility.
After today they would realize, too late, the error of their ways.
It seemed only days had passed since he had been there, but in human time it was at least twenty-five years. A blink of an eye in a god’s time, but long enough to make humans forget. That was the problem with humans. Well, the primary problem. They so easily forgot. Over and over the gods showed themselves, proving their glory and might. But all it took was the short passage of time for humans to begin questioning again—for them to start believing themselves superior to those they could not see, and wondering if the gods were indeed real, only to come running to the altars when tragedy and famine struck. The gods wearied of this vicious cycle. Someday, if the humans were not careful, the gods would cease to show themselves at all.
Cupid landed at the edge of a craggy cliff, scouting, then shot up to crouch on the edge of the royal walls. Humans couldn’t see him unless he wished it so. He peered down at the soldiers practicing with swords for yet another war in another age on another land. As long as there were humans there would be war.
The god flew over the ramparts then into the castle, searching for the youngest princess while also keeping an eye out for any hideous male he encountered to become her “love.” All it would take was a whisper in the male’s ear to coax him close enough to Psyche, and a prick of his arrow for her to open her eyes to the foul man. Cupid took his time and savored the search.
It turned out she was not in the castle like he had expected. His immaculate hearing picked up her name farther down the hill, past the rows of cliffside houses to the market.
Perfect, Cupid thought. He would catch her in the act of accepting worship from the people. Perhaps if he were angry enough he would show his true godly self for the first time, frightening the people nearly to death and causing odes to be written about his might and splendor for centuries to come.
Nah.
The more faithless humans were, the less the gods were willing to prove themselves. To glimpse a god was a gift beyond measure. Rarely did a human deserve such sanctity.
Cupid pulled in his wings and drifted down beside a stall emitting a stench that made his eyes water. One look through the slated cracks of wood and he nearly laughed out loud. The pig farmer was up to his knees and elbows in feces, his pockmarked face red with frustration as he tried to catch the swine. His soul was as dark as the grime that covered him. He swore with every filthy word known to man, gritting his gray, half-rotted teeth. When he finally captured a creature, holding the piglet against his rounded belly tightly enough to make the animal squeal in pain as he cursed it to the nether regions of the Earth, Cupid knew.
This would be Psyche’s husband.
Now all he had to do was find her and lead the two of them into a nearby vicinity so the pigman’s face would be the first the princess saw after being struck with Cupid’s bow. Too simple. Vengeance belonged to Venus.
Although the god could make himself invisible to the human eye, his physical body was still very much present. Not wanting to be touched in his true form, even accidentally, he shifted into his Earthen form. Brown hair in waves around his face. Brown eyes with dark brows. Leaner muscle. Less height. Thinner lips. Plain cream linen draped across his shoulders and wound around his waist held by a simple rope. Worn leather sandals. Many men wore their weapons as part of their attire, but Cupid could not disguise his bow to look anything other than majestic, so he kept it invisible against his back. Although he considered this form minimal, it still received him no end of attention from humans. He could not help the vitality he gave off.
Cupid merged into the mass of bodies hocking goods and bargaining. Smells of fresh mackerel and sardines wafted past. A warm blast of yeast. Pungent smoked eel and sun-ripened citrus. The god took in the Earthly sights and smells, ignoring the eyes that landed on him and lingered, their souls a mix of light and faded. None were especially bright or dark. His eyes were peeled for crowds around a single person, but oddly the atmosphere was usual human commotion. Nothing stood out the way a princess’s presence would warrant.
He was about to open his senses to see if she’d gone back to the castle when he rounded a corner to a street of housewares, clothing, and colorful adornments and nearly collided with a burly man in plain clothes, who stood at attention like a guard. The man looked him over, giving him a nod when Cupid passed some silent test. A guard in disguise? The man’s eyes went straight forward again, and the god followed his gaze to a stall selling hand-carved animal trinkets.
Cupid sucked in a breath and nearly stumbled back. He could not recall a single time in his existence when he had been without grace.
But neither had he ever seen a soul so bright.
The glowing woman leaned over a table, her face and body covered by a plain shawl. Her hand, which appeared lovely and young, lightly touched the face of a cat bauble. Cupid’s heart, which rarely ever changed its forlorn, steady beat, was pumping too fast.
He surveyed the situation. As Cupid’s eyes flitted down the path of vendors, through the crowd, he spotted at least five other broad, plain-clothed guards and soldiers going back and forth between watching the girl and surveying those who passed her.
This was
Princess Psyche. In the pit of his stomach he knew it. And though her pure soul should not affect his mission, it did. Why was she hiding herself? To have a moment of selfish peace before garnering the attention of the market goers? It made no sense. The more he thought about the description his mother had given him, the more he knew this young woman could not be the girl he sought.
“Can I help you find something, sir?”
Cupid, taken by surprise, gazed at the guard and realized, gods above…he had been staring and so lost in his mind that he moved closer to the girl without meaning to, drawing attention to himself.
“No.” The disguised god gave the soldier what he hoped was a friendly smile. “Just browsing. Thank you. So much to see.”
It must have worked because the man relaxed a fraction. “First time on the island?”
Cupid gave a tight smile, finding it uncomfortable to lie, though he would do it if he must. “Passing through.”
The soldier bid him good day, and Cupid made a snap decision. He had to see the face of this girl. He had to know for certain. And no matter what, regardless of whether or not his mother’s information had been partly mistaken, he would carry out this mission to completion.
Cupid approached the table, keeping space between them, and picked up a detailed lion carved from wood. The stall owner eyed him.
“Only looking,” he told the old woman. “First time on your island. It is quite beautiful. I’m here for the day, passing through.” The old woman grunted in response, not interested. But the girl had shifted slightly in his direction. Cupid spotted her nose, not pointed but not too round either. Perfectly sculpted.
Behind them the guard shifted closer, and the god pushed back with his mind, silently telling the man, “Step back. Look away. There is no danger here.”
The guard immediately obeyed.
Cupid turned his attention back to the table. The girl still held the small cat.
“That is a cute one you have there,” he told her, edging closer.
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