AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yes, but Eros, what’s going on?”
All he does is kiss me hard, then leaves.
Fear holds me here more than the willow tree.
The branches liftme higher until I’m pressed against the body of the tree.
Since the layers of mist are thickest at my back, I can make out patches of the party circle. Through the gaps in the great tree, I see Eros.
And without a doubt, the most beautiful woman in existence. Goddess beauty. Beauty that would make every world fall at her feet and beg to lick the mud where her bare feet had trod. Not the only parts of her body that are bare. A jealous twinge stings my throat. Eros speaking with a barely-clothed goddess, who approaches him with intimacy and possession in her flawless almond eyes bluer than vast skies or seas—ugh it simmers my blood.
Their voices are too low. My stomach twists as she closes the distance between them, careless over her sheer silk fabric that hangs loosely upon her shoulders. So loose, it exposes one whole breast. Her abundant golden curls fall upon the mound as she leans in to kiss him…on his brow. Eros remains stiff as a statue, but his eyes hold a dark affection. When he nods, his eyes straying nowhere her face, it dawns on my dense brain.
Of course. It’s Aphrodite!
I breathe a deep sigh of relief, but anxiety pricks the back of my neck. I remember how she despised Psyche and forced her to do three impossible tasks, but I didn’t research their lore enough.
The mists don’t clear, but they thin, allowing me to pick up on traces of their conversation.
“Tell me, son, have you given up on her so easily?” she accuses him in a voice so melodic, I can imagine rhythmic notes pulsing from her lips, streaming beautiful music. “Rumors have spread about your stay in Purgatory. And how you have found a worthy consolation prize to ease the loss of your precious Psyche.”
Eros steels his jaw. “The gods of Olympus have too much time on their hands and love to spread rumors.”
“Why do you think I am here, my son?”
“Because you are a jealous and cunning, self-absorbed bitch, who believed, with Psyche’s disappearance, that I would unite and play your manipulative little games as I once did.”
“Eros…” she sighs heavily and holds her hands at her sides, palms out, while her eyes glisten with tears. I can’t tell if they are genuine. All I know is I must wrap my arms around my chest to keep from sobbing because her tearful beauty is…painful.
“Please, walk with me, son,” she invites him. “I cannot reverse the past. And I forgave you of your wrongs against me—”
“Yes, Mother, because it’s always about you.” He rolls his eyes but follows her to the opposite end of the clearing, where I can’t hear them.
I want to return to the castle. Something about her rots my insides like poison.
“What have we here?”
“A mortal dear trapped by branches of fear?”
The haunting lilts send bone-cold shivers down my spine.
When I slowly turn to the invaders, full-bodied tremors shudder through me. If I were not bound by the tree, I would fall to my knees. Heartache and woe define their bruise-like auras.
A man and a woman stand below me, too similar to be anything but twins. Beyond the somber blue tint of their skin, they have an otherworldly allure, an immortal one. Their beauty is mesmerizing…and nightmarish. My blood freezes in my veins, and my throat closes up. Are they rendering me voiceless?
The male twin presses his lips into a twisted smile, his features sharp and chiseled, his expressions melancholy and malevolent. Long hair, like liquid shadows, cascades down his chest.
A mirrored version of the male, the woman preys her eyes upon mine, striking terror into my veins. Her eyes, darker than her twin’s, glisten with tears that will forever rebirth, never to be shed. Her hair falls in midnight waves shifting like dark fog.
She lifts her fingers to a willow branch, her delicate fingers skirting it. “Sadness, dare we share her hopes are hollow?”
“Her mortal dreams will break from you, Sorrow?” He mirrors her movement in perfect synchronization.
“How you be a weeping sky…” Her words are for her brother, but she steps closer, tilting her head at me like a predator.
“And you are the tempest, dark and wide.”
Sorrow initiates everything with those eyes of depthless woe. “Of hearts so heavy from bitter-woven fates…”
