Page 16 of The Ruin of Eros

“Then you know what comes for me?”

“I can guess,” he answers.

I force my breath steady. If this man is not to be my executioner, then surely whatever’s in the water is.

“If youcoulddo the things you say, sir”—I look at him, amazed at my own boldness, or stupidity—“what would you ask of me in return?”

I know perfectly well that no offer of help, particularly such miraculous help such as this, comes without strings.

The dark cloak seems to shimmer. His voice is measured, dispassionate.

“Obedience,” he says.

A chill goes through me.

“This is what the women of Sikyon swear when they wed, is it not?”

I stare back at him.

“And why do you speak of weddings, sir?”

His head tips to the side, hinting at impatience.

“Aphrodite has already put her claim on you: there is but one way for me to unseat that claim. Wed me, and her claim on you must sit second to mine. That is the only way for me to offer you safe haven.”

I’m speechless.

“I—I cannotmarryyou, sir!” This faceless, black-cloakedstranger!

But he sounds almost…amused?

“You need not be so horrified. You would offer me some companionship, that is all. I will make no demands of your body. In fact, I demand very little.”

“Just my obedience,” I mutter—I do not forget that word so easily.

“Your obedience,” he agrees. “Though I say so myself, it is a fine offer, when you consider…” He throws a glance once more toward the cliffs, and the shadowy water. Beyond him, the sea is choppier. The light pulses.

I shake my head. This outrageous proposition…My mind flashes to the wedding I was supposed to have: riding in a carriage to Yiannis’s house; feasting; my family there beside me.

“But sir…who are you?Whatare you?”

The hood shifts.

“I cannot tell you.”

I stare at him, incredulous.

“What do you mean, you cannot tell me?”

“I mean it is forbidden.”

“But…it is impossible.” It is madness even to contemplate it. “You hide your face from me. How can I trust you?”

I feel him looking back at me from beneath his hood. He shrugs.

“How can you not?” he counters. “It cannot be helped. The bargain must be made. If you wish me to take you from here, it must be so. Decide, Psyche. Your time has all but elapsed.”

As he says it, something lashes out of the water, something otherworldly. A tentacle of sorts—but far too big to belong to any octopus. I smother a cry of horror. When I recover enough to look back, the stranger’s head is inclined to one side. Studying me.

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