Chapter 10

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Psyche followed a path leading toward the cliffs; a path she’d walked so many times. Several of her attendants and a few soldiers followed. She’d brought them in case the people needed more help. 

Two children had been playing near the cliffs and some of the rocks slid down to the shore below. Iris hadn’t told her much else. 

Iris herself didn’t know. 

Psyche tried to steady her heartbeat.

Everything will be alright, she told herself. No matter what has happened, it will be alright. 

As they approached the row of homes, it was clear which one held the children. A large group had formed in front and there was a hum of concern. 

Psyche stopped several steps away from the crowd and faced her entourage.

“There is no need for protocol here,” Psyche said in a firm voice. “Fan out and find out what might be needed. Help where you can.”

Set to their task, her attendants and guards dispersed as Psyche prepared to enter the house.

The people made a path for Psyche, making it easier for her to reach the door.

Psyche entered and a hush fell. They tried to make space for her, but there wasn’t much. Someone had brought a wide board to extend the space on the kitchen table at the room’s center. 

Psyche looked at the table and her heart stopped.

No.

Phoebe and Daphne lay side by side, blankets generously layered to keep them both comfortable.

The village healer approached Psyche and Psyche automatically composed herself. 

Her own feelings would have to wait.

“What happened, Lydia?” she asked quietly.

Lydia looked at Psyche, tears in her eyes, and then bowed her head.

“They were playing,” Lydia began, “and a whole section gave way beneath them. They tumbled a good distance down the slope. One of the girls got trapped between the rocks, but luckily some of the fishermen saw and acted quickly. The other one has been hurt so badly that she — she — ”

Lydia struggled with the words.

“I can’t bring myself to tell everyone,” Lydia almost whispered.  

“It’s okay, Lydia,” Psyche said, gently squeezing her hand. “I’ll tell them.”  

Psyche approached the girls laying on the table. Blood soaked Daphne’s side and her color was gone. 

Psyche stood next to Phoebe and gently touched her arm. 

“Phoebe,” she said. “Phoebe, can you hear me?”

Phoebe groaned and barely opened her eyes. Seeing Psyche, she gave a weak smile. 

“Princess,” she breathed.

“Just lay still,” Psyche said. “You’ve been badly hurt, but you’ll be alright.” 

Phoebe slightly nodded. Then she searched the other faces in the room. 

“Daphne?” she said weakly. 

Psyche shook her head. 

Phoebe started to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” Phoebe said, closing her eyes again. “You said it wasn’t safe. I told her you said it wasn’t safe. She said we would be okay.”

“This isn’t anyone’s fault,” Psyche said calmly, taking Phoebe’s hand. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Accidents happen no matter how safe we try to be. It is just how the Fates work sometimes.”

Phoebe sniffled.

“Daphne is alright, even if she’s no longer with us” Psyche said. “It will be okay. We’ll see her again. You’ll have so much to tell her and she’ll have plenty to tell you. We’re going to miss her, though, aren’t we?” 

Phoebe nodded. 

Psyche gave her a hug. 

“I love you,” Psyche whispered. “You are a gift. We are so lucky we didn’t lose you too. We will get through this, Phoebe. It will be alright.” 

As Psyche straightened, she wiped away a small tear of her own before taking a breath and turning to the crowd. 

The whole house seemed to be holding its breath. 

“As some of you may already have guessed, Daphne has begun her journey to the Underworld,” Psyche began, her voice soft and clear.

The somber mood deepened with the announcement.

“As we all will one day,” Psyche continued, “she is finding her way to the arms of her grandparents and others who have walked the path before her. She will receive a warm reception in the hall of the God of the Underworld.

“When our own time comes to make the journey, she will be there to greet us. We will be reunited, never to part again. For now, we must celebrate her life, mourn her death, and do what we can to help her family through this great tragedy.”

Psyche searched the nearby figures and found Daphne’s parents. People awkwardly moved out of her way as she approached them. She wrapped them both in a hug.

Then Psyche turned back to the crowd. 

She couldn’t think of anything else to say, but she sensed their pain as they processed the news. They all seemed to wish for their own hug. There were too many people, but Psyche stood and looked at each face, doing her best to offer comfort and reassurance that in time their pain would dull, and they would find joy again.  

It would be alright. We will see Daphne again, Psyche’s gaze seemed to say. 

The room gradually sighed, comforted slightly.

Psyche kissed both girls, lingering a little longer over Phoebe. 

Psyche emerged from the house, leaving Lydia and the village leaders to work together on the remaining details. 

The noise outside immediately died down at the sight of her. They were anxious for any news. 

“Phoebe will be alright. Thanks to the quick action of the fishermen, she only has a few scrapes and bruises. But, Daphne,” Psyche said gently, “is no longer with us in the land of the living.” 

A moan rippled through the crowd.

“We will mourn her for a while. We cannot help it, nor should we fight our grief. But we will see her again. Death is but a continuation of our journey. We will all reach death along our path. We need not fear it,” Psyche said.

A gust of wind ripped through the crowd, giving everyone a shiver. 

“Be kind to each other,” Psyche said. “Remember what really matters in this world. Make amends, heal old wounds. This life doesn’t last forever.”  

Psyche gave a last comforting smile. Then she made a slow and steady pace along the path and away from the house, soldiers and attendants following her cue and joining her. 

As Psyche walked, she tried to use the strength of her own words to hold back the tide of her grief. 

Daphne.

Psyche had been so busy trying to get married that it had been a while since she had visited. 

She felt a pang of regret. 

What did any of this matter? Life was short and here she was wasting it on courtship and performances. She should have spent more time doing her work. 

Psyche sighed. 

The festival, the concert — everything seemed so ridiculous now. How could they possibly celebrate in the wake of such sorrow? 

Psyche entered the palace and was immediately met by a flustered Cydippe. 

“Where have you been??” Cydippe demanded. “The musicians said you just left!” 

“It’s Daphne,” Psyche said, slowly. 

“Who?” Cydippe said.

“Daphne,” Psyche repeated. “One of the school children from the day you visited.” 

“What about her?” Cydippe said, not changing her tone. Psyche had better have a good reason for leaving the musicians to practice alone. 

“She’s gone,” Psyche said sadly. 

“Gone where? What do you mean??” Cydippe demanded, still not understanding. 

Psyche took a breath, struggling to keep her composure.

“She’s dead,” Psyche said, not sure how else to say it. “She fell from the cliff face and died. She’s gone, Cydippe, gone to the Underworld.”

“Oh,” Cydippe said, finally softening. “How was I supposed to know? I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” Psyche said. “I’m sorry too.” 

“Which one was she?” Cydippe asked. 

“The one who had lost her grandmother. The one who gave her poem last,” Psyche said. 

“Oh,” Cydippe said. “She seemed nice.” 

“She was so sweet,” Psyche said. 

The sisters stood for a moment as Psyche looked around at the palace. All of the wealth and finery meant nothing. The villagers lived with far less and seemed considerably happier.

“I think we should cancel the festival,” Psyche said. 

“What?? No!” Cydippe said. “You can’t! All of the invitations have already been sent. This is important!” 

“Is it?” Psyche said, facing her. “Is it really so important that I marry well; that I marry at all?” 

“Why, yes!” Cydippe said. “It’s how you grow in wealth and prestige. It’s how you create security for our kingdom.” 

“Our kingdom is already secure. You and Aglaura have given our family more wealth and prestige than we likely deserve,” Psyche said. “To ask for more just feels — wrong.” 

Aglaura came up to her sisters, a look of concern on her face. 

“Iris told me there’s been an accident in the village,” Aglaura said, addressing Psyche. “What happened?” 

“A girl fell and died,” Cydippe said, answering for Psyche. “And now Psyche wants to cancel the whole festival.”

Aglaura looked from Cydippe back to Psyche. 

“Is this true?” Aglaura said. 

“I just can’t,” Psyche said. “It’s just too much. How can we burden the village with something so unnecessary as a festival designed to get a husband?”

“It’s not just a festival for getting a husband,” Aglaura said. “It’s to honor you.” 

“That’s even worse!” Psyche said, turning away from both of them. “I don’t need any honor. I don’t need a festival. This should be a festival of life, a festival for the village. Anything else.” 

“Psyche, it’s normal to be upset,” Aglaura said, trying to be soothing. “Maybe we could take a day and rest.”

“Maybe,” Psyche said, trying to be more calm. “But can we consider changing the purpose of the festival? Bring in all of the suitors you like, but I can’t bear being the center of the festival.”

“Not be the center of the festival?” Cydippe said. “How can we possibly convince princes and kings to take this seriously if the festival isn’t about you? You are famous! You are popular! We need to make that point clear to the suitors!”

Psyche closed her eyes. 

She knew she wasn’t going to convince her sisters. But maybe there was still something she could do. 

An idea touched the edge of Psyche’s mind. 

“Alright,” Psyche said, turning to them. “But can you let me work with the musicians and lyricist myself to make a song? I would like to sing something of my own choosing.”

Cydippe looked at Aglaura. 

“That seems fair,” Aglaura said, shrugging. 

Cydippe nodded. 

Satisfied, the sisters dispersed and Psyche made her way to her room. 

If Psyche couldn’t change the focus of the festival, she could at least change the focus of the main event. 

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