Soul in Darkness (Page 39)

She tsked. “Once your self-inflicted wound has healed and you see clearly again, you will complete the task I gave you.” Venus stood, peering down at her son’s frantic eyes, as blue as arctic waters. “Princess Psyche will marry a monster as planned.”

“Mother, no!” He struggled, every muscle tensed, bulging with useless power. “I will never do it! Do you hear me? Never!”

Venus walked away from her son, taking her time, never looking back as his pleas of agony filled her chambers, rattling himself to the bones.

OMISSION

It had been nearly a year since Cupid had laid eyes on Psyche. Eleven human months. The arrow’s elixir had long since worn off, leaving behind a haze of memory of the weeks afterward. If he had not been so dazed by the strong tincture, he would have known better than to challenge his mother. Handling Venus was a delicate act, one at which Cupid was a master, but he had failed miserably the day he had struck himself like an amateur, ending up chained. He would never lose his head like that again.

Now, he did as his mother asked, keeping Psyche from finding love or a good marital match, though now he did it for his own reasons unbeknownst to his mother. He could never tell her that long after the effects of the love potion had worn off, his feelings of intrigue for the human, his fascination with her soul, his need to watch her nurturing animals and appreciating the beauty of nature only grew. And grew. Blooming into something far stronger, richer, and more magnificent.

His love for Psyche mirrored his mother’s hatred for her, in reverse. Their sentiments were both filled with passion, though Venus made hers known while Cupid kept his hidden. In his pocket, he often rubbed the wooden mountain cub bauble. He had gone back for it when his mind righted and had been surprised to find it still for sale. Now the trinket never left him, a constant reminder of her sweet soul.

Ultimately, Venus still wanted the youngest princess to marry a monster, but she was entertained in the meantime with tales of Psyche’s “misery” from the mouth of her son. At first, he did not believe his actions were causing her true misery, only mild confusion and irritating dramatics. After a year of his meddling antics, however, he began to see the toll they were taking on the princess.

Cupid ached, knowing it was his actions that had caused her smile to disappear. He had kept Psyche, and every possible suitor, from falling in love with one another. He had lured the men to other women with his whispers and arrows. He had even allowed himself to be spotted by her in his Leodes form during her sister’s wedding, wondering how the sight of him might affect her.

To perceive her excitement when she spotted him had been even more satisfying than he had envisioned, though the self-indulging moment had filled him with unfamiliar guilt afterward. The moment, when he followed her back to her room and witnessed her breakdown, had been the closest he had come to revealing himself to her, an act that would have crushed every ounce of trust between him and his mother.

The balancing act of keeping both women he loved happy was becoming precarious. Impossible.

“Did she cry herself to sleep again?” Venus asked, sipping her goblet of nectar as she lounged on the soft grass by her fountain.

“Just as the night before and the one before that,” Cupid told her, not exaggerating when it came to Psyche’s brokenness. He would have to put a stop to this soon. With each day, her despair deepened. It became more and more difficult not to show himself or comfort her in some way.

“And do the people still leave gifts for her?”

Cupid swallowed. His mother could detect lies as easily as any other god. Cupid was clever with half-truths, simply omitting the parts that would make her unhappy.

“Yes, Mother. The people are still unfaithful.”

Her pretty mouth pursed. “And my nearby altars are still barren. Just as I should have left their queen’s womb. So be it.” She narrowed her eyes at Cupid, and he held his breath. It always shocked him to see her beauty transform from warm to shrewd so quickly. “I bore of toying with her. It is time to end this.”

Cupid’s jaw tightened, but he gave a nod of understanding. He had to be cunning where Venus was concerned. He would have to find a way to appease his mother, and still claim Psyche as his own. “I will seek the perfect husband.” The words would have burned his mouth if he were not certain he would never allow her to be hurt. And if anyone were to be her husband, it was him.

His mother’s head tilted, her perceptive eyes taking him in. “In all this time you have not yet found a man miserable enough to punish the woman who makes a fool of us?”

He gave an indifferent shrug. “I have been focused on other factors.”

“Really.” It was a soft declaration, not a question, and the gentleness of her tone put him on edge.

“I will start today.” He began to pack his things when her voice rang out to him again, sending a chill up his spine.

“If I find that you linger too long, I will take care of this myself.”

Cupid roughly shoved an arrow into his quiver. “Your lack of trust is disheartening, Mother.”

She sat up. “You are right, my dear son, because trust is everything. And I lost a piece of yours when you came out of that trance. Do you think I am not aware of your lack of enthusiasm for punishing this human who hurts me every day? Do you have any idea how my heart breaks to feel I have lost not only the people’s love but yours?”

Her eyes welled with emotion, the sight punching Cupid in the chest.

“My love has always been yours,” he told her with every ounce of devotion he had for her. “But we do not share a mind. I swore to avenge you, and I will. In my own way and my own time.”

She stood gracefully, moving closer, her eyes fierce. “What is your way? Hm? Tell me your plan. Why do you stall?”

Cupid gritted his teeth, swinging the bow over his shoulder. “Your questions are insulting—”

“You still want her!” Venus all but growled like a lioness on the warpath. “Admit it! And do not dare to lie!”

The god’s chest rose and fell too quickly. He had been hoping with all his might to avoid another confrontation with his mother, but she was unflinching where Psyche was concerned.

Venus’s eyes fluttered shut. “I will never forgive her for the rift she has caused between us.”

Cupid surged forward, her undue hatred for the innocent girl making him lose his wits. “She has done nothing. Not to you, not to me, not to anyone!”

“You believe you have encountered a perfect human?” Venus laughed.

“I never said she was perfect.” Though, she was as close to that notion as he had ever found in a human or god, for that matter. Oh, how he had wished she would do something horrible—it would make the situation far simpler—but each day her words and actions only softened his heart further, drawing him in.

“Then tell me, precious son, what are her shortcomings?” Venus crossed her arms, head tilted in a challenge.

Cupid opened his mouth, but his mind slowed. Stars and sky. What were her faults? “She…cannot carry a tune.” That was true, but he found himself holding back a smile at the thought of her discordant humming as she walked the castle lands or singing to herself in her room, making the cat dart under her bed. How could he find such a mundane flaw to be so adorable?

“That is all you can manage to fault her?” Disappointment tumbled over Venus’s features as her arms fell to her side. “She will grow old when you blink, son. Her beauty is not long for this world.”

“I care not for her beauty,” Cupid breathed, remaining steady. It was her soul that drew him each and every day. Her soul that nourished him as the sun sustained a lonesome tree in a field. “I beg you to see reason. We can find another way to punish her parents and the fools in town who worship her.”

Venus took her son’s face in her hands, peering up at him. “Everything I say and do when it comes to you is said and done in love. Someday, I trust you will see my actions for what they are.”

This time Cupid was prepared for his mother’s wrath. He’d been drunk on love potion last time, but now his mind was clear. When Venus struck out, Cupid flung his arms to the side, breaking the shackles before they could buckle around him. Venus stepped back, her glare as sharp as daggers. Part of his heart was murdered by that look from her.

“I am not your enemy,” he told her. “Nor will I be your prisoner.”

She flung out her hands, manacles appearing from nowhere. But Cupid did the same, his power causing the shackles to fly from his ankles before they could connect. Venus frowned at his control, her eyes welling again.

“She does not deserve your touch,” his mother whispered. “Do you not see that I am trying to keep you from heartache? One look at your face and she will be mesmerized by your perfection—aroused by your essence. No mortal can love you. Not in the way you seek.”

Her words struck him precisely as she had intended, for it was his deepest fear to never be truly loved.

“Then I will not allow her to see my face.”

Venus’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You jest.”

“No.” He eyed his mother with full seriousness. “Tell me you will allow me to try, without interference, and I will prove myself, and her in the process.”