Soul in Darkness (Page 37)

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.

The girl’s grip tightened on her shawl with one hand and she abruptly set the bauble down.

“Sorry,” Cupid chuckled. “Not my intention to startle you.”

She let out a small laugh that pleased Cupid’s ears, making him blink.

“It’s all right,” she said in a voice both husky and soothing, picking up the cat once more. “This one reminds me of something that happened when I was a child.”

“And what was that?” Cupid leaned forward just enough to watch the girl pull her plump bottom lip between her white, straight teeth as if considering. His insides jumped, and he blinked again.

Gods, what in Hades was wrong with him today? It was just a human girl.

Again, she released a breathy laugh, almost nervous. She surveyed the cat, which he realized now was more of a lion.

“When I was small I came across an injured mountain lion cub and brought it home. My parents were furious and scared to death—its claws were enough to shred me—but I insisted on nursing it back to health. So, I did. And it never once scratched me, though I can’t say the same for my room’s furniture. I cried when I had to set it loose.”

Cupid stared at the tiny bit of her profile she allowed to show. Then he stared some more. She hesitantly turned enough to glance at him, and he watched with immense satisfaction as she did a double take, forgetting herself and showing the oval of her face within the cloth. He jolted with something he’d never felt in all his long years of existence. The sensation was so foreign he couldn’t begin to put a name to it. Her eyes, so round, were a mix of golden honey, amber sap, and sunshine. As bright and beautiful as her soul. Her lashes stretched wide like dark butterfly wings. This was definitely, without a doubt, Psyche.

The stall owner gasped at the girl’s raised face and began to point, but Cupid cut her off mentally—“Look away. She is a normal girl.” The woman’s eyes and hand dropped.

“I know,” Psyche said sheepishly, peering down at the figurine once more. “It was silly.”

“What?” he asked. Oh, the cub story! Cupid shook his head. “No. I do not consider a tender heart to be silly.” He meant it and truly wished it was not the case. He needed her to be inconsequential.

She tilted her head and stared back at him now, studying him. He wondered why she scrutinized him so. What did she think when she looked upon him? Was she suspicious? Did she not believe his words to be genuine? He wanted to understand this look from her. He wanted to know and understand everything about her. His thoughts gave him a shot of chilling fear.

No.

He did not need to understand her. Nor did he need to know her. This ended now.

“Where are you from?” she asked at the same time he said, “What is your name?”

The girl peered down. “I’m nobody.” A non-prideful response.

His heart clenched tightly in his chest and he forced himself to breathe.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“Leodes,” he answered automatically, using the Earthen name he always gave.

“Leodes,” she repeated with a sweet smile, and the way it sounded from her lips made him overly alert in all the wrong places. That was not part of the plan.

“I seem to have lost track of time,” he told her stiffly. “My boat will leave without me.”

Disappointment flitted across her face as she gazed at him now, full on. “I didn’t mean to keep you with my stories, sir. Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For…listening.”

Odd. A princess surely had an arsenal of listening ears at any time. He let out a breath, fighting instincts that fired up inside of him before pushing forward with his thoughts. He had a mission. He must put his misgivings away and trust his mother’s instruction. “You will visit the pig stall. Now.”

Her eyes glazed, and it gave him an ill sensation. He’d never felt regret or remorse for any mission, and he dared not start with such foolishness now.

“I have to go, too,” she told him. “I wish you safe travels.”

He could not bring himself to respond. Cupid tore his eyes away and walked heavily in the opposite direction. A single glance behind him showed the guards all moving to follow her, leaving no doubt this was the third princess. The princess who calls herself “nobody,” takes pity on stranded animals, and hides her beauty. A girl with the brightest soul on the island, who his mother mistakenly believed to be cruel and selfish.

It mattered not how the girl caused him to feel. Or how she seemed unworthy of punishment. Cupid’s place was to obey. His mother trusted him, and he trusted her.

Cupid gave his head a hard shake and stalked behind a stall, shivering as he shook off his human glamor and filled out his true form once again, remaining hidden from sight. He yanked the bow over his head with more force than necessary. On this day he didn’t bother bringing his vials. He had dipped his arrowhead straight into Venus’s own fountain that morning before leaving Olympus. The tip of his arrow was poisoned with the most potent love potion.

One scratch and the glowing girl would be in love with the pigman.

He ignored the churn in his abdomen and bent his knees, leaping onto the stall roof, then gliding from one rooftop to the next, flying the last bit until landing on the flat roof of a barn within shooting distance of the pig stall.

The man was shoving a different squealing piglet into a wooden crate as Psyche approached. Cupid held his breath as he watched how she walked with natural grace, almost gliding along the pebbles and dirt as smoothly as his mother.

No. That was the same foolish comparison the humans made, and it angered him that he could understand now how the rumors came to be. He had not even seen the girl in full, and he was overcome. He could only imagine how the stupid humans felt. Cupid grabbed his forehead and closed his eyes a moment. He needed to finish the job and get far away from this damned isle.

“What do you wannn…hello my dear.” The pig farmer had noticed her. A chill raked up Cupid’s spine at the way the man leered, showing all of his graying teeth. The guards gave one another concerned glances, all stepping a bit closer. Psyche was still under Cupid’s spell standing at the stall, presenting her back to him as a perfect target. He could not wait a moment longer.

Without taking his eyes off her form, Cupid reached back and pulled the arrow from his quiver. No more delaying the inevitable. Squatting, he aligned the tip of the arrow with the part of Psyche’s back where her heart lay. He would not think about how brightly she shone, especially in comparison to her future mate, dim in every way—the man whose filthy hands would soon be all over her.

Hades.

Cupid wiped his brow. Was he sweating? Was that a tremor in his hand? What fresh madness was this?

When he looked back, the pigman shouted and kicked a piglet who’d managed to pry its way from a crate. Psyche bellowed a cry and covered her mouth. Her heartfelt reaction to the treatment of the animal gave Cupid pause. Would her emotion be strong enough to break his verbal spell? How would she react to the pigman? He stared in fascination, his bow drifting downward as he allowed himself to watch for one more indulgent moment.