Chapter 15 - Psyche

More than two weeks after my father departed for Delphi, the sounds of marching woke me from a restless sleep. It didn't take long for the haze to fade. Marching could only mean one thing. I ran to my window and saw Father's troops escorting their king to the palace door.

I didn't bother to dress before tearing out of my room and flying down the stairs to greet him. He was just coming through the door when I flung my arms around him.

"Father, you're home! You made it. What did she say?"

I felt like a child again, clinging to my dad and begging for a treat. Only when I paused to breathe did I finally notice his expression.

He didn't answer me. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest. His chin rested on the top of my head as he slowly stroked my hair. I drew back a little and looked up into his eyes. Father's amber eyes usually sparkled with life, but today they were dull, empty. He tilted his head back and blinked, an obvious effort to keep the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes from spilling. I'd never seen my father even come close to tears before. The sight of him like that made me tremble.

"What is it? Tell me what she said." My pleas were barely more than a whisper.

After a long pause, he said, "We should get your mother first."

"I'm here." Her voice cracked as she called out from a shadow in the foyer. Neither of us had noticed her silently enter. I could tell by her expression that she too already knew the news was bad.

Father extended an arm and she rushed to join our embrace. We stood that way, the three of us together, for what seemed like hours. It was like we believed that as long as we were together, the Oracle couldn't touch us. That we'd be immune from the destiny already laid out before us.

I was the first to pull away. "Knowing nothing is worse than knowing the truth. Just tell me." Father didn't answer me still. My voice exploded with desperation and panic. "Father, please!"

He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Slowly, he recited the message he'd received from the Pythia.




Dress Psyche in her blackest mourning cloth,

And leave her on the craggy mountain top.

Her lover is not born of human blood,

But is as dire and fierce a serpent as may be sought.

He flies with wings above in starry skies,

On his whim all creatures fall in pain,

With him always Psyche shall remain.





The blood drained from my face so quickly that my cheeks turned numb. I'd been right to suspect that Aphrodite hated me. But this I hadn't seen coming.

Love and passion were her tools; her blessing or her curse. The one possibility I'd never considered was clearly the worst fate imaginable. I'd have traded death for life in the arms of a monster. Or maybe certain death was what awaited me in those arms -- the prophecy did say to dress me in funeral garb.

My head reeled as I tried to wrap my mind around the Pythia's words. I pictured a massive serpent, coiling its scaly body around my ankles and folding me into an embrace in its oily, jet black wings. I saw its face rising slowly to look at me with slitted, yellow eyes before darting out a slithery, forked tongue toward my lips.

The last thing I remember before the room went dark was hearing myself scream.

* * *

I don't know how long I was out, but I felt strangely calm when I woke. When I opened my eyes, I was looking up into my mother's tear-stained
face. She was cradling my head in her lap and stroking the long coils of my hair.

"Psyche," she whispered. "I ... it shouldn't be you having to go. I wish it
were me."

"It's okay, Mom." I sat up and turned to face her, but she couldn't meet my gaze. I watched helplessly as she began to shake and sobs overcame her. Then she fell forward into my lap and wept. I couldn't do anything except stroke her hair as she had done mine.

When she was cried out and finally stopped shaking, she sniffed and looked at me. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and for the first time, those eyes gave away her age. She looked older and less alive to me. My heart broke as I looked into her eyes and understood that she was already mourning me as if I were dead.

"Don't, please. I'm not gone yet."

"You're right." She grasped my hand in hers. "We'll fix this. There's got to be something we can do."

I simply shook my head, unwilling to crush her hopes with my words. "No," she protested, wringing my fingers harder. "We'll call in the army to guard the palace. The beast will never make it past. You won't have to go. We can stop this, Psyche. We can stop this." Her words were so rushed. I'd never seen her this frantic before.

"Shhh," I hushed, pulling her into my arms. "You're going to make yourself sick. I hate seeing you like this."

"We've got to try." Her broken voice nearly choked on another sob.

"No," I whispered. "You're the one who always told me: You cannot scape what is destined."

Chapter end