Chapter 30

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Psyche lay awake, listening to her husband breathe. 

Tonight she would light the lamp. 

She had already wrestled through the decision. This really was the only way. She simply couldn’t stay, forever hidden and separated from everyone. She hoped that lighting the lamp would allow her to go back. Hopefully she’d satisfied enough of the Goddess’s edict. Hopefully her husband would allow her to return home. 

It was a risk she would have to take. 

She wondered about what her husband would look like in the light. It had been so long, together in the dark, that she’d stopped worrying about it. Now as she prepared to see him, she couldn’t help worrying a little. 

Would he be hideous? Would his form be different from what he had led her to believe?

Would he be ashamed and go into hiding forever? 

Would he be angry?

She’d never tested his temper before. What if he couldn’t control it? What if — 

She pushed aside the possibilities. There were plenty of things he could do to her, but she knew he would never hurt her. 

But — 

What if he felt so upset, so betrayed, that he never forgave her? 

That thought gave her pause. 

He was so good and kind.  

Until she’d been reunited with her sisters, he had been the only one to show her any real love. Not the kind of love people show you because you’ve done something nice for them. 

The kind of love which is unconditional. The kind of love which loves completely — flaws and all. 

How could she do this to him? Look at him against his wishes? 

Did she care nothing for him? For his feelings? For everything he had done for her? 

She felt tears coming to her eyes. 

She did love him. 

Psyche hesitated. 

Could she talk to him? Maybe there was an answer they could find together. 

Psyche had already tried that. 

He never wanted to talk about the light or the dark. He kept a lot of things from her. He had stopped her earlier and had asked her to trust him. 

Trust him? 

Psyche wanted to. 

But how could she trust him when she didn’t really know him? 

He moved a little and she turned away from him and closed her eyes. 

There was no other way. This was the only way to find the answers and free herself. 

She would miss him.

It was time. 

Psyche slowly started moving away from him in the darkness. She didn’t want to do things too quickly and have him wake up. 

She stopped moving and lay still, listening. 

His breathing was deep and steady. 

Carefully, she continued to inch her way to the edge of the bed. She decided it would be better to crouch down on her side before lighting a lamp. She didn’t want to be right next to him — just in case. 

As Psyche kept moving towards the edge, she couldn’t help panicking a little as she still hadn’t reached the end. How big had he made their bed? It seemed to stretch on forever. 

An endless bed??

Her panic subsided and she let out a sigh of relief as she finally reached the edge.

She really needed to calm down.  

She slowly moved off the side and crouched down. 

She conjured a lamp into her hand. It felt rough and newly cast. Was this place trying to tell her something? That perhaps her idea wasn’t very well-formed?

I’m sorry, Psyche thought to the elements. I wish I could stay.  

She lit the lamp.

By the dim light, she looked around the room, making out the palace as her husband had redone it. It looked more like the palace he’d created for her, with some minor changes. They were on a similar platform, overlooking the palace, but he’d extended the space, making more room for the enormous bed as well as some additional space for where she imagined they had sat and talked. 

In spite of everything being fairly familiar, the candle light made it look ghostly. 

A knife instinctively appeared in her hand.

Cydippe’s stories were getting to her head, but it couldn’t hurt to be prepared.

Psyche stayed crouched for a moment, light in hand. 

Time to find out who her husband was. 

Psyche slowly got up, trying to steady herself. 

Taking one more encouraging breath, Psyche slowly turned towards the bed, bracing herself for what she would find lying on the other side. 

As the light touched her husband, she tried to take it all in. 

He had hair on his head. It was full and a little longer than the short cropped hair of her father. The hair stopped and the light revealed a strong neck and a well-muscled shoulder. 

Psyche relaxed.

Arms, torso, legs, feet, toes. 

He was indeed in the form of a man, like he had said. 

See, she thought to herself. He was telling the truth. Surely you must trust him. 

Maybe if she extinguished the lamp, he’d never know.

Then the light caught something along his back. 

Flecks of light danced in the air as she moved slightly. Psyche tried to understand. 

Wings?

Curious now, Psyche began to creep around the bed to get a closer look.

They were indeed wings, but not like those of a bird. His wings were somehow transparent, shimmering in the light. 

Maybe that’s why she had never felt them.

His wings fluttered slightly as he slept. 

Psyche paused, but he kept sleeping. 

She continued moving closer and she couldn’t help noticing that his body was unlike that of any man she’d ever seen. 

Who was he? 

He wasn’t human, he’d said, but he certainly looked human. 

She moved around the bed, trying to see better. 

As she approached his face, her heart beat faster.

This was her husband.  

This perfectly symmetrical, perfectly formed — being, was her husband. 

She felt her knees weaken a little as she instinctively started to swoon. She reached out to catch herself and she almost dropped the knife. 

Gazing at him, she marveled that the gods themselves could not be any more perfect than he was. 

The gods —  

Could he be — a god??

Impossible.

Could a god marry a mortal? 

No mortal would be worthy. 

And Aphrodite. 

Which god would dare defy her? Which god would be willing to change her fate and take her away to such a place, be her husband, and love her?

How could this flawless, breathtaking, supreme being possibly love her?

It didn’t make sense.

He stirred a little, but she didn’t notice. 

This was her husband, the one who had talked to her at night, the one who had opened her eyes to more than she had ever dreamed possible. 

He wanted more for her. He didn’t want her to settle for the cave or the cottage. He’d wanted her to realize the height of her worth and embrace her goodness and power.

He loved her. 

And she loved him. 

She found herself drawing closer to him as if in a trace. She wanted to touch him, kiss him, show him the depth of her love.

He was irresistible. 

Psyche was so focused on his beauty and the thoughts of being together, that she didn’t notice that the lamp had gone limp in her hands. The wick remained alight, but small drops of oil had started coming from the spout.

She leaned forward, hoping to kiss him. 

A single drop of oil fell onto his hand.

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