Destined. Part 22

Then he pounced, jutting his knees between my legs and holding my chest down with his forearm while he used his other hand to force up my dress. I used his distraction with my dress as an opportunity to pull out my knife from the folds of my waist.

I stuck the pointed tip right against his throat and pressed deeply enough to just barely slice at his skin. "Let me go and I'll let you live," I panted, half-crazed with terror.

The man used the hand that'd been pulling at my dress to wipe at the trickle of blood running its way down his neck. He examined the crimson smear on his finger and laughed. Then he swiped the knife from my hands so quickly I barely saw him move. Faster than Zeus's lightning bolt strikes, he had the blade pressed firmly against my throat.

"You be a good girl," he spat, "and maybe I'll let you live." He pressed the knife a little deeper for emphasis. I choked back a panicked scream, clamping my hand over my mouth to silence myself.

With his free hand, the soldier grabbed at the top of my dress and yanked. The fabric sank into the flesh of my shoulders like angry teeth before it began to stretch and tear. His scarred smile widened over crooked, discolored teeth.

And then he froze.

The knife fell out of his hands as he scrambled to his feet. He stood too quickly while his feet peddled backward and he toppled over, catching himself with one arm, before righting himself. That's when he started to sprint, pausing only to s.n.a.t.c.h up his tunic and sword as he ran toward the others.

"Let's go!" he called ahead to them. "Get out of here."

I watched the soldier run from sight before looking back over my shoulder, searching for any sign of the beast that had frightened him away. Pulling at my dress, I rolled over and laid low to the ground, hunkered in fear. I stretched my fingers out and gripped my knife, which lay forgotten in the gra.s.s almost beyond reach.

My heart continued to hammer; I could hear the whoosh of blood throbbing in my ears with every beat. But no monster appeared. No griffin, no chimera, not even a giant boar.

In the distance, the soldiers' shocked cries and the pound of their horses' hooves racing away called back to me. After those noises settled, I heard the breeze blow gently through the gra.s.ses. Then I heard a snort that I hoped belonged to Xanthy.

Since I couldn't see or hear anything that would cause me danger, I got up to a crouch, staying below the gra.s.s line. I remained scrunched down as I scurried toward the road, holding up my tattered dress as I moved. Before fully emerging from the cover of the gra.s.ses, I checked the road.

It was empty again, except for Xanthy.

I dashed up to her side, flinging my arms around her thick, b.u.t.ter-colored neck. She tossed her head and pressed her warm muzzle into my side. I'd never been so happy to see another living creature in all my life.

"I don't know what happened back there," I told her, relaxing my grip on her neck. "I just thank the G.o.ds that it's over."

Rummaging through one of the bags tied to Xanthy's back, I found the extra dress I'd stashed away. I'd planned on saving it so I would have something fresh to wear when I reached Olympus, but I had no choice but to wear it now. The ruined dress fell to the ground as I s.h.i.+mmied the new one on over my head. All things considered, I could have a lot worse problems than simply having to wear my clean dress before I meant to.

I dusted myself off, removing a few errant blades of gra.s.s and one spur that remained lodged in my skin. Then I looked around for something I could use to get back on Xanthy.

But there was nothing.

No rock, no wall, no discarded clay pot. Nothing.

"Well, I guess we'd better start walking," I said to Xanthy. "I move slower than you." The two of us set out toward Megara, and with each step I prayed to find some foothold that would get me back on my horse so we could gallop away from the emptiness of this stretch of road.

Chapter 42 - Eros.

Since confessing to Aphrodite, Eros had spent his days in solitude. There was no one he wanted to see. Certainly no humans he wanted to help. He'd ordered everyone away, refusing to accept visitors.

Most of his days he spent curled up on the couch, trying his hardest not to look in on Psyche. Although the hopeless, painful love he'd held for her had been ripped away when Aphrodite undid the arrow, something raw still tugged at his heart. Eros convinced himself it was nothing more than leftover emotion that would be gone soon enough.

After several days pa.s.sed, another visitor came to Eros's door. If it was possible, she was even more unwelcome than his mother had been.

Iris.

She was descending on him like a vulture descends on fresh meat.

"Don't say it," Eros sighed when she sashayed into the room. "You can't tell me anything I haven't told myself a thousand times."

Iris nearly pranced as she walked, with her long, overly-slender legs jutting out from under her indigo dress. When she reached Eros's side, she flipped her raven-violet hair and pouted while blinking her sunken brown eyes. "I just don't understand."

Eros rolled his eyes. "What?"

"I don't understand why you wanted that girl. She's a mortal."

Eros slapped his palm against his forehead. "Oh, that's what she is? Why didn't anyone tell me?" He knew, of course, that Psyche was actually only part mortal, but he wasn't in the mood to correct Iris.

Iris thumped her hand down on her outthrust hip. "You don't have to be such a jerk about it."

"You don't have to act like you're telling me something I've never thought of before." Eros's head fell down into his hands, where it remained upheld only because he was clutching fist-fulls of his own hair.

Iris slid down next to him on the couch and wrapped her olive-tinted arm around his shoulders. "I'm sorry," she said. "I can't imagine being betrayed like you were. And by a human." Iris paused a couple of beats before whispering in Eros's ear. "I would never do anything like that to you."

Eros's head flicked up and he glared at Iris as he pushed himself far enough away that her arm could no longer hold him. "Is that what this visit is about? You still think we could be together?"

"Wake up, Eros." Iris hopped to her feet. "Hera wants us together. Your mother wants us together. You can't fight them."

"Yeah, except I love someone else, remember?"

"She's just a mortal. She'll die soon enough." Iris turned on her heel to storm out of Eros's palace, when Eros caught her by the elbow and spun her around. His blue eyes burned with metallic ferocity and he pressed his nose in close to Iris's.

"You will not say things like that about Psyche," he hissed through clenched teeth.

Iris easily jerked her arm free from Eros's grip and glared back, her eyes again dancing. "Fine. Then you won't hear it from me that she won't survive until nightfall."

"What are you talking about?"

Iris placed her hand on her chest in mock astonishment. "Oh, I thought you didn't want me to say things like that about Psyche." The edges of her lips curled in an involuntary smile.

Eros reached out to rattle the lithe G.o.ddess again, but she easily avoided his grasp. "Don't touch me. I'll turn you a putrid shade of green for a month if you ever lay your hands on me again." But as she spoke, her eyes lightened and she caressed her stomach, letting her touch run down to her thighs. "Unless I want you to lay your hands on me, of course."

"Tell me what you know about Psyche."

Iris took Eros's hand in hers, forcing it to trace the sultry path from belly to thigh that her own hand had just explored. "Kiss me."

"And then you'll tell me?" His brows narrowed to a point as he eyed her. He was unwilling to let his mouth mesh with Iris's thin, violet lips unless she a.s.sured him information in return.

"If you even still care afterwards," Iris said, forcing Eros's hand to her back as she pressed her mouth against his lips. She wrapped a leg around his waist and grasped thick clumps of his golden hair, drawing his body in closer to hers. Eros finally forced Iris away when she flicked her tongue against his lips.

"Enough." Eros wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "What's going to happen to Psyche?"

Iris smoothed back her hair and straightened her disheveled gown. Then she studied her garnet manicure indifferently before finally answering. "Don't blame me. Your mother found her and called in a favor with Ares." She folded her arms over her chest. "I heard he was going to have her killed, but that's all I know."

Eros staggered back a step from Iris and his eyes glazed over. "She can't die." Eros's words were barely a whisper. "She's not supposed to die."

He thought back to how Charon had said he'd be seeing Psyche soon enough. Eros had been so enraged at the time that he hadn't thought it through, but now he realized that his mom must've been planning on killing Psyche all along. Setting her up with someone hideous was just a temporary diversion. Aphrodite had always wanted her dead.

Iris ripped him out of his thoughts as she tromped out of the palace. "Don't worry," she called out before stepping outside,"I'll forgive you for loving her first. I'll be much more understanding that she ever was."

Iris slammed Eros's heavy, golden door on her way out. He grabbed a copper urn, the nearest thing he could reach, and hurled it at the closed door.

Once the echoes of the clanging pot had settled, Eros slumped back down to his couch and wrestled with his thoughts. Would he go back on his promises to himself and look for Psyche? Even if he never wanted to see her again, he didn't think he could just let her die.

Without wasting time to think it through, Eros began scanning for Psyche. He quickly located her ambling on horseback down a dry road, flanked by even drier patches of gra.s.s.

He looked closely, studying her. She was dusty and her clothes were dirty, but nothing about her seemed harmed. Either he'd found her in time or Iris had made up the story in some demented scheme to torment him. Eros didn't really care either way. His muscles relaxed and the knots of tension in his shoulders unwound as he watched her. Even disheveled, she looked amazing.

And then he saw the cloud of dust on the horizon and watched as the Spartan soldiers stormed closer. No.

His mind raced as he watched one of the men accosting Psyche, dragging her from her horse and wresting her away from the road into the tall gra.s.ses. Even if he left Olympus now, he'd never make it to her in time. When the soldier threw off his tunic and pounced on Psyche, blind outrage flooded him.

"She's mine!" Eros hurtled his powers of creation across the skies to Megara. As Psyche lay defenseless, with a knife pressed against her throat, Eros's magic reached her.

To the soldier, her whole body appeared to quiver. Her shape s.h.i.+fted between monster and victim. Her hair flashed to coils of snakes. Her skin crackled, revealing deathly grey flakes and her eyes burned like fiery coals.

As the soldier staggered away, Eros knew he was reaching the only conclusion his eyes allowed. Psyche looked like a gorgon whose ident.i.ty, concealed by a human mask, was falling away under the stress of his attack. The man would a.s.sume that if he looked in the gorgon's eyes, he'd instantly turn to stone. And so he ran. Ran from his own attack, leaving Psyche basically unharmed.

Chapter 43 - Psyche.

A foothold for getting myself back onto Xanthy never presented itself, so I walked the rest of the way to Megara. I knew I should move straight on to Eleusis, but ventured inside for more water and help getting on my horse.

As I led her through the city streets, I kept my head down and moved quickly while looking for a public fountain. The crowd of Megaran citizens thickened, a jumbled blend of farmers, merchants, slaves and senators. Surrounded by all of these people, I started to worry that I'd made a mistake coming inside. What if one of them recognized me? Or worse, what if they attacked me like the Spartans had done?

When I reached the edge of the fountain, I filled my flasks. I glanced up for a moment and caught the gaze of another girl who was doing the same. Her hair was neat, and her lightly olive skin was clean, but she was wearing a dress that looked like it'd been made from the harshest, undyed lambswool. She must be a slave, filling flasks for her master.

As her eyes flicked to mine momentarily, she gave me an almost imperceptible nod. A sign of camaraderie.

The momentary insult was quickly overcome by the realization that "slave girl" was a good disguise. I'd be able to pa.s.s through the streets virtually invisible if I looked like a slave. No one would give me a second glance. A tiny smile tugged at my lips and I felt safer.

Until a sharp voice ripped me from my momentary security. "Girl! Your master's horse can't drink from the fountain."

I'd been so distracted that I hadn't noticed Xanthy stick her muzzle into the city's fresh water. I tugged at her determined neck until I pulled her head above the water line. Xanthy snorted, splattering me with cool droplets.

Only when I had righted my error did I look at the woman to apologize. "I'm sorry," escaped from my lips at the same moment I fully saw her face. It was severe, but illuminated with the light of suppressed laughter. And it was familiar. A second pa.s.sed before I realized the woman's face looked the same as the relief image of Vesta I'd seen on her shrine.

My eyes widened and I bowed quickly. "My Lady."

She regarded me carefully, studying my face and clothes. Then she nodded and lifted her chin with an expected air of superiority. "You look like a good, little slave girl." Her eyes glinted. "I'll give you a piece of advice," she continued.

I let my eyes dart left and right to be sure no one was listening. The n.o.ble woman reprimanding the slave girl was going unnoticed.

"You ought to serve Ceres in Eleusis. It would be a mistake not to ask her a.s.sistance as well."

I nodded my head in what I hoped was a reverent-enough bow. "Thank you, my Lady. I am forever grateful."

One side of her mouth lifted in a half-smile as she leaned in close and whispered. "It's not your grat.i.tude I seek, it's fulfillment of the promise you made."

"The shrine!" I blurted before slapping my hand over my mouth. Again, I quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed us yet, but we still appeared safe. I lowered my voice. "You will, of course, have your shrine if I live through this journey. I would not go back on my word."

She raised one eyebrow accusingly. "Really? Is that what you told Eros?"

The air rushed out of my lungs like I'd been punched. Warm tears pooled in my eyes, threatening to spill over. I hadn't even cried from my attack, but her words stung worse than any physical a.s.sault.

I started to defend myself. "I never meant to hurt -"

"Smarten up, girl," Vesta cut in. "What you meant is apparent to everyone. You'll earn favor from no one lying about your true intent. Admit to your mistakes and you may yet be forgiven."

Her words were harsher than I would've liked, but I knew she offered them as a roadmap to redemption. I dropped to one knee and kissed Vesta's porcelain-smooth hand. "My Lady, I can never thank you enough."

Vesta shook her hand free and looked at me the way a teacher looks at a dimwitted pupil. "Get up before you draw attention to yourself," she hissed.

As I stood, I brushed the dirt from my knees.

"Besides," Vesta added, "I can't promise you'll ever be able to build me that shrine. You can wait and thank me if it ever happens."

I stopped wiping at my dress and looked up at the G.o.ddess, my heart heavy with dread. Advice was obviously as much as I could hope for from her. I nodded. "All right then."

Vesta backed away, disappeared into the crowd, and was gone. Although still a little shaky, I was ready to escape from this throng of people too.

The only thing I knew now was that I had to get to Ceres's temple in Eleusis. After finis.h.i.+ng the flask-filling task I'd started, I grabbed Xanthy's mane and began to lead her away.

But I realized I still didn't have a way to get on her back. If I wanted to make Eleusis by nightfall, traveling on horseback was a must. I looked around the packed mall, seeing only people scurrying about their business like rats. But the fountain was empty. Would anyone notice?

Hopping onto the fountain wall that separated the people from the pool, I steadied myself with Xanthy's mane to keep from accidentally falling in. I easily flung my left leg over Xanthy's back and wiggled into place. With a nudge of my heels, Xanthy and I barged our way through the ma.s.s of people until we were safely back on the road leading out of Megara. Once outside the city gates, we headed north and began the trek to Eleusis.

Blessedly, the road was empty.

I waited until after dark to slip through the gates of Eleusis and wind my way toward the city center. We followed the well-rutted road and, as expected, it led directly to the agora. The empty market stands and discarded sc.r.a.ps hinted at the life that would fill the long, rectangular plaza again come daybreak. But in darkness, it was eerily lifeless.

On the far end of the agora I could make out the silhouette of a temple. A few solitary torches flickered from inside. Sliding from Xanthy's back, I approached slowly, feeling total reverence for the G.o.ddess as I stood in the footprint of her most sacred shrine.

To honor the G.o.ddess for her gift of agriculture, the Eleusisians had built a temple that itself seemed to grow from the earth. Long slender columns, like stalks of wheat, lifted the ma.s.sive triangular roof. Icons of the G.o.ddess, riding in her horse-drawn chariot, graced every wall.