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“She has stolen them from my father’s side. I think he will not be pleased with that, either.”
I shiver. It is not much to depend on—the whims of angry gods.
“I did not kill theketos,” I blurt out. “Not quite.” And I tell him about the last arrow. I need to tell him the story. I don’t know why, until I stop speaking and find I’m shaking again, and then I realize: I want him to comfort me somehow. To tell me that the power in those arrows wasn’t as evil as it seemed. It seems to me that itmustbe an evil power—to make a creaturefall in love against its inclination, against nature, against all reason; even to its own destruction. The power to manipulate and control, distort and exploit.
But if he knows I’m looking for comfort, he won’t give it.
“I cannot change my powers, Psyche. They are the ones I was born with. I told you, didn’t I? One man’s god may be another’s demon. I am what I am.”
“But you’re no demon,” I say, though I think I hear a note of pleading in my voice. Because I want it to be true. I want him to be capable of only good things. But deep down, don’t I know better?
He doesn’t say anything to that, maybe because of what happens next—a sight so arresting, so beautiful, I catch his arm. Is it an omen? A white doe stands on the path before us, watching us, motionless, unafraid. And then she turns and bounds into the forest, back uphill.
“Beautiful,” I breathe. Something in the sight was so mesmerizing, so perfectly bewitching.
But behind me, Eros is breathing faster.
“Forward, Ajax!” he says in a low, hard voice. “As fast as you can.”
Ajax flicks his dark mane, the touch of it like silk against my forearms. Now we’re going so fast, the world is a blur.
“What is it?” I say, my voice barely audible now over the sound of hooves. My teeth meet with a jolt at every pace.
“That was no ordinary deer,” Eros says, and I hear his jaw shut, too.
“That, Psyche,was my mother.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Aphrodite.
“Are you sure?” I say, despite myself.
He makes an impatient sound.
“She does not follow us,” he says. “Perhaps because she does not have Ajax’s speed in that form.” He takes a breath. “She goes back to Olympus, I suppose, to gather allies. But she does not know where we are going. We must keep her from guessing where we are bound.”
I shudder. Deimos may not fly again, but that need not stop him from chasing after us to the ends of the earth. Nor will it stop his twin brother, I am sure.
“What about the other gods?” I say. “Will none of them defend you? Can they condone what she did to you; how she took you and kept you prisoner?”
“Perhaps not condone,” he says. “But whether they will condemn her is another matter. Hephaestus for one will take her part, and Zeus listens to Hephaestus more than he listens to any of the others.”
Because Hephaestus’s weapons are what keep Zeus strong. I understand what he’s telling me: right and wrong will take second place to brokered loyalties. The gods watch for their own interests, just like mortals do. And if Zeus takes Aphrodite’s part, we have little hope with the other gods. Surely none of them would risk defying Zeus.
“Adamantine, Psyche…” he goes on. “It is the thing the gods fear most. To bring it to Mount Olympus—to bring it to their home—I fear they will view it as the greatest of treacheries.”
“Butyoudidn’t do it,” I say. “I did. And I didn’t know...”
But I would still have brought it. Even if I’d known what it was.
“It doesn’t matter.” Behind me, his voice is low and contained, the way it is when he’s trying not to feel.
“I’m sorry,” I say. Could all of this have been averted, if I’d stayed my hand a little longer? If I’d let Deimos continue a few moments more?
Eros pulls me closer against him and I feel his warmth in my body, even while the chill still covers my heart.
“Do not be sorry,” he says quietly. “You saved me from great pain.” He hesitates.
