A Wayward Arrow

Chapter Two: Dressed in Black

The following week had set off with a festival. Games and feasts all in the name of the marriage that would soon take place between Psyche and the god that would come to take her hand. It was treated as a funeral with nearly all the rites. Psyche herself was even in mourning. None of it had been explained nor had she been given much choice. At each parade and festival she sat there like a pretty doll. Void of emotion or joy. A god? But which god? Which god could be so fearsome as to be called a beast?

That morning was much of the same. As she was bathed in oils of cinnamon and myrrh and dressed in her finest black himation. It was made of fine cashmere and was worn alone without a peplos though she was given a veil to wear over her head. Her hair was spun up and woven with the veil and once she was dressed she was seated upon a carriage and carried in one last final parade through the streets of her Kingdom.

The procession was taken with her family. The King and Queen walked in front of her, wearing black. Her mother hid her face as she cried throughout the procession. Her two elder sisters and their husbands behind the carriage were followed by the entire kingdom. The music that played was sullen and somber, which had Psyche tearing up as she tried to calm her nerves. Twisting one end of her dress into her hands, first one way, then the other. The procession went up and up towards the top of the mountain just as the Oracle had told them. As they said their goodbyes, Psyche would leave the carriage and the procession would leave. The mournful sounds eventually flittered off into nothing but silence.

Here she stood at the summit of the mountain top, dressed in black and waiting for a terrifying creature to swoop down to take her; she didn't even know where: to her death she assumed. She waited with a heavy heart. Wondering what or whom she had angered for her life to have turned as it had. The wind started to pick up. Wrestling the veil away from her face. It pushed the tears back away from her eyes and, before she knew it, picked her up all together. She squeaked out a sound of surprise and soon the winds of Zephyr were carrying her off the mountain side and high up into the sky.

Surely this was how she would die! At least, that was what she thought, but the wind was not harsh. As if a gentle breeze, it cradled her. Carrying her higher still, above the clouds, and passed the gateway of mortals till she could no longer even see the earth below. Just the heavens. They soared across a river and over a meadow till a palace came into view. Towering and sprawling of marbled stone pillars and an open floor planned around a courtyard garden. This garden was lush with greenery and sprawling purple fauna that could be seen from above. As the winds settled into the entrance, she was let down gently and the winds of Zephyr died down, leaving her to what she assumed was the home of a God. No doubt the home of her husband.

She stared in awe as she drew closer. Surely the oracle had had her prophecy wrong? For a creature like the oracle had described surely did not live in such a glorious palace as this with marbled pillars and inlaid floors and walls made of gold or to have a garden so lush and full as this one.

"Please, this way..." A disembodied voice called out from the hallway, "Bathe first, then eat. The mortal world is quite filthy, yes. You must be hungry after your journey. Yes-yes."

Psyche stilled, looking around the area for where the voice could have come from, but found no one in the room. "Uh~ Hello? Who is there?"

"Just a servant. Please, don't be frightened." The voice filtered down the hallway, leading her in the direction it wanted her to follow. "The master told us you'd be coming. Yes-Yes. This castle is your home now."

She followed the voice. It led her down the long hallway and towards the bathing rooms. Still she saw no one, but within the room she felt the warmth of a bath being drawn. The scent of the oils in the water. The flower petals that were tossed into the bath. While she had been bathed this morning, there was something ritualistic in the way everything had been done this morning. Now? It seemed more about her relaxing. She headed towards the cleaning bucket and looked around. Wondering if she was truly alone or not.

"Hello?" She called out but after several minutes of no response, she undressed, only taking out the combs that removed the veil then cleaned herself off.

She made her way into the bath. Slipping deep down below the warm waters till it reached her chin. The soothing aroma of lavender helped to calm the wracked nerves from earlier. It was hard to imagine that a funeral-like procession had led her straight to this moment. As she looked around the bath, a lot of her wondered if perhaps she had died or had fallen asleep on top of the mountain and she was simply dreaming. She lowered down further into the water till it covered her head and waited till she had to come up for air. Only then did she recognize this as reality. She was not dead, this was no dream. Then where? Where was this god who had taken her hand?

As she got out, she noted her black attire had been taken. Instead, left in its place was a silken peplos of lavender that faded out towards a pearl color. Much similar to the one she had back home. She pulled it on, drying her hair faintly, then, with bare feet, padded her way down the hallway. She heard noise coming off towards a centering room that opened up to the garden. The weather was breezy and gentle. Making it cool but not cold. The sun was beginning to set for the evening and several fire bowls were alight leading towards a table filled with a feast for several people, but only one place was set.

"Please sit, eat." That same voice startled her as it sounded from behind her and she'd turn quickly on her heels expecting to see someone but again, find no one behind her.

This palace was surely a mystery. Noises and voices coming from no sources, food placed with no servants anywhere to be seen, just heard. Things seemed enchanted, as harps and lyres began to play music to accompany her supper. Psyche made her way to the table, taking a seat in the one spot that was made up for her. She wondered why there were no other plates set out. No guests to feast for a marriage dinner, no one to receive her aside from the enchanted servants. Not even her husband was to join her.

"Am I to dine alone?" She asked no one in particular. Not sure if she'd even be given an answer in response.

"The master figured you would prefer it this way after the ordeal you were put through." That voice responded.

Psyche nodded to the voice, a sign of understanding. She supposed she had spent the last week wondering what type of beastly man this god was. She had spent the week mourning and acting as if she had been sent to her tomb. Even the thought brought her back to her parents. Oh, how they must be torn at this moment, thinking the worse of where she was and who she was with. If anything, the god's absence didn't quite ease her anxieties either.

She found herself with little appetite. Picking at a few bits of meat, cheese, and fruit. Enough to tide over what little hunger she had before she would stand up from her seat. The table would clear on its own. Plates flew off into the kitchen, food disappearing into thin air as if it had never been. She wandered off towards the garden, stepping out into the night air and looked up into the sky. From here, she could see stars closer than ever before. Close enough, she wondered if she could reach out and touch one. Outstretching her arm, she tried to do just that but found she could no sooner touch the stars as she could escape this heavenly paradise.

She took her stroll through the garden unaware she was being watched from the shadows. The pair of inhuman eyes that watched her, lingering and following with yearning and passion, but did not dare come out from hiding. Instead content to watch as she took her time, smelling through the flowers and even so much as picking one after making sure no one was around to see her do so. Not that she'd known if she was truly alone in this place.

Eventually, she'd make her way back to the hallway. Finding that the fires lit were beckoning her down hallways that her mind was wanting to go. She was looking for her bed chambers and thus she'd find it along with those glowing bowls of fire. Opening up into a large space with a billowing hearth and a large bed stuffed full of down and feathers. The cool breeze brushed the purple colored canopy gently and she'd find herself growing tired as she made her way towards the vanity. Finding fine brushes, powders and perfumes scattered along the top of it.

She'd sit down upon the pouf that sat in front of the mirror. Pulling the combs from her hair to let the golden tresses fall down from their bindings. Still somewhat wet from when she had dipped her head beneath the water. As she started to comb through her hair with her fingers, she'd bounce the ends in her hand, promoting the soft, loose curls. With her gaze taken down lost in thought, she hadn't realize she was no longer alone in her room till she caught the dark shadow of movement from the mirror of her vanity.

With a gasp of shock, she'd turn to face the room but the hearth went out, plunging her room into darkness. Even as her eyes tried to adjust, she could see nothing till she saw the towering, large mass of shadow standing directly in front of her. She choked on a scream but felt a finger shush against her lips.

"Shh, I didn't mean to frighten you." A dark tenor spoke, a soft treble of words that almost seemed to whisper to her through the darkness.

He lowered down to his knees in front of her, bringing himself face to face with her. She tried to make out his face in the darkness but found it nearly impossible. As frightened as she was, his voice eased her mind. So, this was her husband. Odd that he would come to her in the dark.

"The fire must have gone out... I should-" her shaky words were quickly cut off.

"No, the fire stays out. For you are not to look upon my face." He was touching her cheek. Gently guiding his hand along the curve of her jaw, easing his thumb along her bottom lip every breath it seemed he was growing closer. "A mortal cannot look upon the face of a deathless god. You understand, my Psyche?"

"I.. I understand..."