Soul in Darkness Read online

  “Regret and self-doubt,” he muttered from the end of the bed. “Treacherous human traits.”

  I grabbed my head in my hands. “I won’t let you manipulate my mind again.”

  “Manipulation? That was all you, Psyche,” he said. The erotic undertones seeped through his voice as if he were still imagining me squirming underneath him. He was gloating, and it fueled my ire.

  “You lie!”

  “I may withhold the truth, Wife, but I never lie. Enjoy your day.”

  He left me, and I sat there trying to get myself under control. My mind reeled, and my body still hummed.

  “It’s all right,” I whispered to myself. “Everything is all right.” I had no idea what to believe, but my mind was still my own. It had just been one moment of weakness, that’s all. Though I felt shame and disbelief, no harm was done.

  It’s all right.

  HOMESICK

  I sat in bed, not moving, for far too long, analyzing every single moment of this morning. Every motivation that we both might have had. Every possible consequence. I turned over each and every detail in my mind, scouring them for ways he might have control over me now after what we’d shared. And I came to one conclusion.

  I was fine.

  My mind was strong. Allowing myself a moment of pleasure with him, regardless of our situation, did not give him sway over me. Whatever magic powers he had, I was not falling for them. Yes, all right, I’d wanted him, and so I’d allowed myself a moment of weakness. But one thing was for certain: it would not happen again. I was in control.

  Once I finally began to relax, his kiss landed at the forefront of my thoughts. Our semi-coupling had been a purely physical need, but that kiss…it had been timely and intimate. Far too intimate. The only reason it had felt so wonderful was that I’d been completely overcome by what had happened, my body sated, and my conscious thoughts ambling far away. I definitely couldn’t let him kiss me again. That was the sort of thing that could hurt me, weaken me. Kissing was for people in love.

  We would never be in love.

  Outside, far below, Mino began a barking fit. I jumped from the bed and ran to the window, throwing it wide. The puppy was barking up at a centaur soldier tree-sculpture where he’d treed a squirrel. The animal was shaking its bushy tail furiously.

  “I’m coming, Mino!” At the sound of my voice he peered up, went still, and then his whole body began to move side-to-side as his tail swung in glee.

  I let out a laugh and ran to my closet, quickly discarding the nightgown and dressing in a peach colored, high-waisted gown that sat evenly on both shoulders and swooped low on my chest. I brushed back my hair and wound it in a twist, poking pins through it to keep it in place, then dashed from the room. I needed sunshine to clear my thoughts.

  A floating tray was waiting at the end of the hall and I slowed, calling out, “Renae? Is that you?”

  “Yes, Highness. Care to eat in the garden?”

  “I would. Thank you.”

  She followed me through the wide halls until we got outside where she sat the tray down on the marble table. Both of us let out startled sounds when the nearby bush shaped as a Pegasus rattled, and Sphinx came bursting out with something in her mouth.

  “What have you got?” I asked as Renae made a disgusted sound. Sphinx dropped a dead gray mouse at my feet. “Oh, poor thing.” The rodent, not my cat. “Have you brought it as a gift?” She licked her paw and leapt up on my lap, letting me pet her. “Very kind of you, kitten, but it’s all yours. I insist.” I kissed her head and set her down. She happily took the mouse and bounded away.

  Mino sniffed the spot where the mouse had been, then began licking my toes through my sandals, which made me giggle.

  “Need anything else?” Renae asked.

  I sighed and looked at the empty spot where she stood. “I wish I could see you.”

  “I’m not much to see, to be honest.”

  “I don’t care how you look, Renae. It’s just…strange and lonely to never see anyone. I am glad Mino and Sphinx are visible, but it’s hard.”

  “I can understand how that would be difficult. Are you at least enjoying your time with your husband more now that you’ve had a chance to get to know him?”

  “No,” I answered too quickly, thinking about this morning and flushing with heat. I tossed half of a boiled egg to the eager puppy and hoped Renae couldn’t see my blush. She let out a small sound as if she did not believe me.

  “I wish you were allowed to tell me something about him.”

  “I wish I was, as well.” She patted my shoulder, and I held back the urge to reach for her hand and hold her there. In that moment I longed for my mother. Yes, she’d coddled me and been vain and proud, but she loved me. I never doubted that. Papa too. They must have been so worried. Did they think I was dead? Or tortured daily, at the very least? Pangs of anxiousness and sadness pierced me.

  “Oh, please don’t be sad, Princess.” Renae smoothed the top of my head.

  “I wish I could write to my family.”

  Renae was quiet a long moment. “You should ask your husband.”

  I snorted with derision. “He would never allow it.”

  Now she snorted. “Well, you won’t know unless you ask.” With that, she patted my shoulder one last time and clomped away, back up to the castle. She was right, of course. But if I asked and he said no, I’d be furious. Maybe that’s what I needed in order to remember he was a monster. I needed to find ways to make him show me.

  I picked at the food. It was strange not to have an appetite. I was always hungry at home. Mealtimes were usually full of banter, gossip, and laughter. Eating alone, even with an attentive dog, was not the same. I gave Mino several more bites and took a few myself before climbing down onto the ground with him. He got so excited, licking my face and jumping over me, back and forth, making me howl with laughter. Even Sphinx came out to rub herself on me and get scratches on her small head.

  “Let’s take a walk,” I told them. “This time hopefully we won’t be mountain lion fodder.”

  We walked together over the hills, the burn of exertion feeling great on my body. I stopped at the archery range to shoot a few arrows, making sure the animals stayed behind me. Then we headed for the trees. I laughed as Mino and Sphinx began to wrestle, only to topple down the hill together in a clumsy heap of fur. They played the whole way to the forest.

  When the trees literally turned to me, as if opening their arms in welcome, emotions rose up within my heart. The trees, my pets, and an invisible maid were my only friends. But I shouldn’t take any of them for granted.

  “Hello, beauties,” I said with reverence as I ran a hand up the closest smooth trunk. The tree shivered under my touch, making me smile. From the corner of my eye I saw Mino approach a tree and hike his leg. Before I could say a word, the nearest root rose up and gave the puppy a shove away. He stumbled and yelped, running for me. I squatted and took him in my arms, stroking his shivering body. Sphinx’s back went up and she hissed at the tree. She was way too small to be scary, but it was funny to see.

  “It’s all right, everyone.” I looked at the tree. “I apologize. He meant no harm. Dogs are not very smart compared to you or me.” Sphinx moved closer, pacing around my legs. “I know you’re not accustomed to animals,” I said to the trees. “I promise they won’t hurt you.” I felt sad when they remained still. The trees did not care for my companions. That wasn’t good. Awkward, really. I let out a long huff and patted the tree again.

  “I’ll take them away and try to visit without them soon.”

  They made no move, and I turned to leave, the burden of loneliness settling even heavier on me. Mino licked my chin. I waited until we’d crested the nearest hill before setting him down to run beside me again. Sphinx had followed, and they picked up their playful antics once more.

  When we returned to the garden my tray of food had been cleared away. I went inside and headed for my room, feeling tired. But rather than get
into the bed, I scoured the desk and found parchment and a dip quill with ink. Sphinx jumped on the bed and nestled in. Mino plopped at my feet and fell straight to sleep.

  In the quiet of the room, I lost myself in words. I wrote Mother and Papa first, revealing information to ease their minds, while not giving any of the unsettling details, such as the fact that I could not see anyone. I am well. I believe I am somewhere in Olympus, and I am safe. The food is incredible. My husband does not hurt me, so please don’t worry. I wouldn’t lie to spare their feelings. They knew me too well for that. We all knew this arrangement was a punishment.

  I told them about Mino and Sphinx. Then I wrote my sisters, chronicling my closet and all the details they would appreciate. I knew none of my family would read these letters, but it made me feel closer to them to write and imagine reconnecting.

  As soon as I rolled the final scroll and tied a string around it, my sadness became an even heavier burden on my shoulders. I wondered how my guard, Boldar, was doing, and if he missed chasing after me. I wondered, if none of this had happened, if I would have found Leodes, or if another suiter would have made himself known and I could have had love.

  Not all women loved their husbands. I knew that, of course. The lucky ones gave the rest of us something to dream of. Now, the knowledge that I would never have that opportunity added to the layers of hopelessness weighing on my heart.

  I bent and picked up Mino’s floppy, sleepy body. He gave a wide yawn, showing all his sharp baby teeth, and I took him to the bed where we snuggled together with Sphinx until I eventually faded into sleep.

  GAME PLAY

  The moment I stirred, I sensed his presence and his scent, which sent my body and mind into a frenzy of conflicting sensations. Fear was there, always the initial terror that this would be the moment he would strike. But now fright was accompanied by more confusing feelings: wonder and curiosity mingled with the most unwelcome one of all…lust. For half a second, I’d felt happy not to be alone before I remembered that was exactly what he wanted.

  He wanted me to need him and rely on him in all ways: food, shelter, safety, and companionship. I could take the first three things without getting my mind and heart involved, but the latter part was more complex. A tiny part of me was actually happy when he showed up after being gone all day. That’s the part of myself I had to keep under close watch.

  “Sometimes you are at peace while you sleep,” he murmured. “But other times, like now, the worry still creases your face, even as you dream.”

  Mino, who’d also been woken, rolled to his back, his skinny tail twitching with nervous excitement as he stared at the blank space. Sphinx pranced over to him and I watched as her fur smoothed down over her head, neck, body, and up her tail. My husband was petting her.

  I sat up, frowning, smoothing back my hair and redoing the twist. I wasn’t sure how I felt about being watched while I slept. It was disconcerting, but I suppose harmless. Still, every moment he was with me he was learning me, which was not a good thing. More for him to use against me when the time came.

  I scratched Mino’s soft, exposed belly, the pathetic pup. He still stared, wide-eyed, and it made me think.

  “Do you suppose he can see you?”

  “Yes. They both can.”

  “How?”

  “Because I allow it.” A strange feeling of jealousy slithered through me. I narrowed my eyes at the air from where his voice carried, and he chuckled.

  “Have you been writing?” His tone was careful.

  I nodded, smoothing down the fabric of my dress over my knees. “To my family. I miss them, and I know they are worried. I’m sure you would not allow me to send them, but—”

  “You assume much.”

  My face lifted in surprise. “I can send them?”

  He paused, cleared his throat. “I will have them sent, but you cannot receive return mail.”

  He could be lying, despite his insistence that he never lied, but my spirits rejoiced at the thought of my family knowing I was safe. Or, at least, as safe as could be expected.

  “Thank you.”

  “Please do not thank me.” He let out a deep sigh followed by a heavy pause. “We need to speak about this morning.”

  Heat rose to my cheeks as I shook my head and stared down at Mino. “I would rather not.”

  “I am sure that is true, but I have things to say.” His voice trailed off, soft then louder, and I could tell he was pacing as he spoke. “You are already aware there are certain subjects I cannot breach, which makes having any conversations with you difficult.”

  He paused again, and I nodded that I understood. Sphinx curled up in my lap, licking her paw.

  “What happened this morn, and the other incidences in which we touched, will not happen again. Unless, of course, it is initiated by you.”

  I let out a dry laugh. “What are you playing at?”

  “You always think this is some sort of game to me.” He went quiet a moment. “Perhaps that is a metaphor I can work with.” He paused again, and I waited, my heart beating faster in anticipation. Finally, he gathered his thoughts and continued.

  “Some games are played one to one. For example, Stones.” He paused, so I nodded. “And some games are played in teams. What would you say if I told you, Psyche, that I am not—” He made a garbled noise, followed by an ancient-sounding word that sounded very much like a curse. “I cannot say that. All right…imagine a game with two players on a team together against an opponent of one.” He exhaled and let it out in a rush, as if he’d finished a great task.

  My insides tremored slightly at the strange feeling that we were at an important crossroad. I thought about what he had said. A team of two against a team of one. My eyes narrowed.

  “Are you saying we are on the same team? Against another?”

  He laughed, then cleared his throat again. “I cannot answer.” But he sounded joyful, as if we were on the same page.

  “Well, I suppose that would change things,” I said, almost to myself. “If it’s true.” He growled, and my heart gathered speed. “I know you said you can’t lie, but you can’t blame me for being cautious.”

  A lower growl this time.

  “Does this mean you’re being punished as well?” I asked.

  His answer was a whisper. “Not exactly.” He sounded decidedly sad. I was ashamed of the level his apparent sadness affected me. I felt bad for him for a moment, then shook off the feeling. Whatever he’d done to be punished, he probably deserved it, just as I did for allowing my family and people to revere me when I knew it was wrong.

  “Wait,” I said. “What exactly is your punishment in this situation?”

  Yet another growl, this one clearly a sound of frustration.

  “Why must you think of things in terms of punishment? We are speaking of a game, if you recall. In a game there are rules, and there is strategy.”

  “There are also winners and losers,” I said.

  “Precisely.” He sounded as if he’d turned sharply to face me. “When I play a game, I do not want to lose. Nor should you. I have never lost.” I rolled my eyes to myself as he went on. “And I have realized certain games require gentler strategy than others.”

  I gazed upward, scrutinizing his analogy. “So, assuming we are a team, and we must work together, what is our goal? How do we win?”

  His feet were heavy against the floor as he approached the bed and two indentations appeared at the end where he leaned on the mattress with his hands.

  “That is where you must trust your instincts, Psyche.”

  I fell back with a long groan, holding my head. “This is too much.”

  “You have no choice but to play. Some games, my wife, have more at stake than mere glory.”

  That made my stomach hurt. Something bad would happen if we did not win this game. Wait, we? Was I truly believing this “team” nonsense?

  “What else do you know about games?” he asked. “Think.”

  I shoo
k my head, letting out a long breath. “Some games are played on a point system. Are there points to be earned in this hypothetical game?”

  A negative-sounding grunt.

  “No points,” I said. “An end-goal, then?”

  “Mm.” That was not a yes or no, but it sounded affirmative.

  “All right, so we are supposedly working toward something. Together.” He was quiet, so quiet. But I felt a spark between us. “Can you give me a hint?”

  “No,” he said. “That subject, above all, is something I cannot go near, verbally.”

  Damn.

  “What else?” he asked. “Think.”

  “So pushy,” I whispered as Mino stood and shook himself out, looking around, probably for a place to relieve himself. Before I could get up, Mino was lifted into the air toward the open window. The pup was still not used to this. His ears were back, and he peered over his shoulder at me helplessly.

  “It’s okay, boy,” I said, trying not to laugh. I stood and went to the window to watch the puppy be lowered to the ground as I thought. “Some games have time limits, goals they must achieve in a set time. While others, like stones, have no limit. You play until someone wins.”

  “Yes.”

  “So which type is ours?” I asked. “Do we have a time limit?” He was quiet again, and the silence ratcheted my anxiety. “How long, Husband?” When he still didn’t answer, I wrapped my arms around myself. “I see. Not long then.” His continued silence was all the affirmation I needed.

  “What does your sensible gut tell you, Psyche?” He stood close. So close I could smell him when the breeze from the window caressed us. I had to swallow.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered, but that was a lie. My gut told me to trust him. To learn him the way he was trying to learn me—that our end-game somehow vastly relied on building trust. My gut said he didn’t want to hurt me, a concept that was the opposite of what I’d firmly believed when I arrived. Could I trust my gut now, or had my instincts somehow been compromised along the way? I didn’t know, but I believed unequivocally that I did not have all the time in the world to contemplate it.