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“Duly noted.” I smirk sarcastically refilling my glass and chugging down my second drink.
Shoving Roman out of the way, I approach Apollo. “Tell me how you came to know my history and my mother’s plan to erase my existence.” The query is bold, the nectar taking effect, giving me a sense of bravado.
Apollo obliges my request through raised eyebrows, “I have precognition abilities linking me directly to the Fates.” He discloses. “They have revealed your past, your present and your intended future.”
Roman’s jaw drops at the admission and he lets out an impressed gasp. Could he love his hero anymore? Highly doubtful.
I have always been in awe of the Fates and their binding authority on the destiny of humankind. Knowing Apollo has a direct linkage to them, makes me shudder. And the fact that he is aware of my future, is unnerving.
“Eileithyia told me they spared my life and kept me frozen, bound by the ribbons of Time until they could no longer hold.” I divulge. Thinking of Eileithyia warms my heart and makes me want to run straight to her comfort, like the shielded blanket I need right now. “Perhaps I should go and visit her.”
Roman stares at me, clearly taken aback by this unexpected disclosure about my past. He looks like he’s about to say something, perhaps to ask me again who my god parent is, but Apollo speaks first.
“I’m sorry to be the barer of bad news Siriarna, but Eileithyia has been entombed in her cave, bound to solitary for all eternity.”
“Oh my gods, no. No. Why?” I ask horrified.
Eileithyia relishes her role as midwife and overseer ofpregnancy and life. This will surely destroy her soul. I start to sob, soft tears becoming a steady and unstoppable stream.
“She committed the ultimate betrayal by sharing what was forbidden. She is lucky the Fates did not commit her to the Furies.” Apollo answers frowning.
It’s too much. My head is swimming with memories of the god who sacrificed her own happiness to provide me with the answers I needed. A truly selfless act, knowing she would be risking her future. I can’t control my tears. I cry and cry, my body heaving with each sob.
Both Apollo and Roman stand by allowing me to grieve, not saying a word as I fill my third glass of Nectar and gulp. I want to numb the pain. So much pain. My god mother trying to harm me, and the god who cared enough for me, to put me before her. Two completely opposite intentions. Each characteristic cutting wounds deep into my soul.
I want to confront Psyche now, I want her to suffer as I am. Standing, I attempt to retreat from Apollo’s palace. He reaches out and grips my arm, anticipating my response, and attempting to stop me from leaving. I thrash my head about in protest of Apollo’s strong hold, but the nectar is swirling through my head and the dizziness returns with a vengeance. I stumble backwards into Roman who instantly wraps his arms around me in a tight clinch, and I reluctantly loll my head against his chest.
“Everything will be fine,” Roman says releasing me from his embrace.
I don’t agree with his statement, everything has gone so incredibly wrong.
“I think it best you sleep off the nectar.” Apollo suggests.
Twisting my hair around my fingers so tightly, almost severing it at the roots, I debate continuing my reckless plight. But my body is suddenly wracked with a strange buzzing. My thoughts are flying out of my mind and I reach out to touchthem. Of course, there’s nothing there and I fall, this time making contact with the marble floor. Perhaps it hurts. I can’t tell. My entire being is numb from both the nectar and the staggeringly soul crushing revelations.
“Time to rest, Siriarna.”
As my head hits a pillow, I hear the distant voices of Roman and Apollo before the click of a door, darkness immediately replacing light.
Just like the depths of my soul.
******
I wake sometime in the early morning hours, darkness still blanketing the realm, but the murmurs of daylight indicate the break of dawn is imminent. I instantly raise my hands to my temple. Perhaps I should have listened to Apollo’s warnings about the nectar. However, the pain masks the incessant gnawing madness that has taken residence in my heart.
I wish I had something other than my golden dress to wear, it seems inappropriate in the circumstances. But as I smooth my hands over the material, the origin of the dress immediately comes to mind—Stefanie and Linus. My so much more than guide parents. A renewed sense of love hits me as I envisage my dress as much needed armour. As a final touch I slick my hair back into a ponytail, securing it with a sliver of ripped bed sheet. I’m ready.
It’s time.
Creeping from the palace, I make my way to Apollo’s chariot. My nerves start to fray and I quash them with a sharp intake and exhale of breath. This not the reunion I had envisaged.
You stole my dream, Psyche and I will not go down without a fight.
The horses are wide awake, sensing the new day is almost upon us. I ruffle their manes. They really are magnificentspecimens, and I am rewarded with unison whinnies, the equines unaware of the calamitous circumstances surrounding this morning’s journey. I whisper my instructions to both Lampos and Actaeon and the horses take flight.
May the Fates have mercy on my soul.
It’s a rocky start, the horses not accustomed to their temporary mistress, but we manage to arrive at the opposite side of the realm unscathed. My mood is now as black as the storm clouds that have coincidentally just appeared.
