Chapter 32

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Chapter 31      Chapter 33

Eros couldn’t ignore the two forest nymphs arguing any longer. 

It had been such a peaceful morning. 

Two silly nymphs had spotted a little puddle at the same time and were now engaged in a heated battle over who could look at their reflection first. 

Nymphs were so vain. They thought of nothing but themselves. One of the nymphs had grabbed the other by the hair and was now dragging her away from the reflective surface. 

So ridiculous. 

Such violence over a little puddle. 

Eros considered shooting the hair-pulling nymph with an arrow and letting her fall in love with the next thing that walked by. 

They were such useless creatures. 

It would serve her right.  

The two were a ways away from him, so he made himself invisible and moved closer to get a better shot. 

“Eros!” 

His mother.

He could sense she was somewhere in her palace, high on Mount Olympus. 

Far enough away that she couldn’t possibly bother him until he’d finished — 

“Eros!” she called again.

Still trying to ignore her voice, he materialized his bow and arrow. 

“Eros!!”

She was certainly being persistent. 

He drew his arrow. 

Just a little more — 

“Eros!!!” his mother called. 

He could sense the urgency in her voice. 

He sighed and returned his arrow to the quiver. 

Some other time perhaps. 

Eros made his way to his mother’s palace. 

Honestly! What could be so urgent?

“Eros!” she called again.

Yes, I hear you, he thought. 

“Mother,” Eros said, appearing beside her.

“There you are! Come, get your arrows. We have work to do,” the goddess flared. She started walking towards the courtyard, expecting him to follow. 

Eros regarded Aphrodite. The Goddess of Love and Beauty was usually the image of perfection; beautiful, composed, and strong. Now she seemed a bit rumpled and was clearly agitated about something. 

Slowly following her, Eros materialized his bow and quiver again, their shiny luminescent gold sparkling against the sun’s rays as they entered the courtyard. He continued to follow his mother as she led him to the courtyard’s edge. 

“There!” Aphrodite said, pointing, as they reached the vista. “See that young girl there? I want you to make her fall in love with the most vile, the most horrid man.”

Eros peered into the vista, trying to see the girl. 

“What has she done?” Eros asked.

“She –” Aphrodite hesitated. “She has fooled the people into thinking she is worthy of god-like praise. She puts herself above the gods and needs to be made low. Humility is the only cure. And for the pride she suffers herself to possess, she needs humbling of the most severe sort.”

Eros tried to see who his mother was talking about.

“Furthermore,” his mother continued, turning away, “she is part of a household which needs to be put to right. Her older sisters worship me quite well, paying homage and giving tokens in exchange for the gifts and beauty they possess. To have their youngest sister outshine them is to create an imbalance. Psyche is simply unworthy and must be put in her place.”

“Psyche,” he said as he followed his mother. 

An interesting name. 

“Very well,” he sighed, preparing for his journey below. “The vilest suitor? Must she marry him? Undoubtedly her parents would not approve.” 

“Leave that to me,” his mother said eagerly. “She shall wed the monster.”

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