Page 45 of The Ruin of Eros

“He doesn’t need me to love him,” I say. “I’ve sworn a vow. He can have what he wants from me, whether I wish to give it or not.”

Klaia shakes her head.

“Lord Aetos isn’t like that. He claims from pleasure only, not from obligation.”

I reach for my wine, take a shaky sip. The brightness courses through me, dazzling my tastebuds, but I’m so distracted now, the effect passes quickly.

Perhaps she’s making trouble for reasons of her own, or it’s a mistranslation. The nymphs may not use words in the same way mortals do. Whatever he wants from me, it can’t be the thingIcall love.

She shrugs her sleek shoulders. “We were surprised by it too. For most of us, you see, mortals are seen as rather…coarse. No offense intended.”

I’m flushed to my roots, now, but she takes a long swig of wine.

Over her shoulder, I see two of the young boy-nymphs tiptoeing toward us, giggling softly. They may not be mortal boys but I’ve seen that sly, mischievous look a hundred times before on the youths of Sikyon, and I know they’re up to something. One of them sees me watching, and puts a finger to his lips. One step further, and together they drop a small, brown toad right onto Klaia’s lap.

The commotion is a relief. In seconds Klaia’s up and shrieking, chasing the boys back to the water with wild threats, giving me the chance to slip away unnoticed.

*

Back in my room, though my mind teems with thoughts, I force myself to finish the letter.

Dear Father and Dimitra

I trust this letter reaches you securely. It is my first chance to send word and may be my last for some time. I need you to know that I am well, that I am safe. Fate intervened that day on the cliffs, and I was delivered from that danger.

More than that: my rescuer has taken me as his wife. Alas, his homeland is very distant, but know that it is the dearest wish of my heart to see you again, and I hope it may yet come to pass.

For now, I send you my love. Do not grieve me.

I add some words about not letting others in our town know the truth. It will only cause trouble, if the king should get wind that his plan for me was foiled.

I roll the letter back into a scroll and seal it. I glance out the window, which shows the sea again. By the light it is already evening. Is he back yet? Some part of me fears he will have changed his mind now, and not take the letter after all.

I open the door to the great-room, and stop in my tracks. He is back, and he stands before the window—but tonight, the window does not show any view I could expect. Its image is nothing I’ve ever seen before. A dark landscape, mountainous, stormy—and at the peak of one of the mountains, a city built up high. I say a city, but truthfully I have seen no city like it in my life. It shines like marble, all peaks and spires. The sight of it stops me where I stand. I’d like to think it is a sight from the Outer Lands, from Persia or Aethiopia perhaps. But a cold feeling under my skin tells me this is no mortal place.

Then, just as fast, the picture disappears. Quickly, the demon withdraws his hand back inside his cloak, and there is something of regret in the gesture.

“Psyche,” he says, without turning. Once more, he has sensed me without seeing me.

“What was that?” I say. “That place…was it real?”

“Real enough.” Something in his voice signals he will not speak further of this to me. I am learning to read him better than would seem possible, for one whose face I can never hope to see. I put the strange vision from my mind, and walk toward him, scroll in hand.

“The letter is written.”

He nods, and takes it wordlessly from me. So close, I breathe the scent of him again. The fabric of his cloak is the color of midnight, yet despite that it seems to hold the light.

Aletheia comes into the room then, bearing bread and water, and he gestures me toward the table.

“Sit. Tell me of your day.”

I scoff inwardly. Who asks such a thing of a prisoner? And yet truth be told, my day was eventful enough. Klaia’s unnerving comment lingers in my head.

“I met some of your nymphs,” I say.

He nods.

“And did they amuse you?”

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