“You have a head cook,” he said and I frowned. “It must mean you are of some value to someone. Have you no chaperone out here? The world is a dangerous place, milady.”
I cocked my head. He’d actually sounded sincere. Over my wellbeing. A perfect stranger. Someone he did not know.
I studied the man further. He had a soft chin. And a few pockmarks in his stubbled cheeks. A slightly crooked nose at the bridge. Heavy brows, and an angular face. His dark hair was thinning, I was sure I’d even caught a flash of a bald spot on the crown of his head as I’d knelt. But it was his eyes that drew me in most. They were dark blue, almost violet. The eyes of most men along the Mediterranean coast line were almost always brown, with the rare green exception. Blue was nearly unheard of. And it was my favorite color blue too. Like the deepest part of the ocean.
He also had very fine lips. Very fine.
I wet my mouth, feeling suddenly anxious and nervous by this strange man. I’d been around the most beautiful men in my region. I could have my pick of any of them, but none had ever caught my fancy the way this very average male did. And I suspected it had everything to do with the measure of his heart.
I had a good instinct about people. Or at least, mother had always said so. I smiled softly. And it was genuine. He must have sensed that because soon his lips mimicked my own.
“I am not here alone, sir.” And as if to punctuate my words, my sister’s laughter (I wasn’t sure which) floated over to us on a salt tinged breeze.
He flicked a glance over toward the group, then back to me. “They seem to be headed our way,” he said, and then suddenly he was rummaging in a sack beside him. “Your kindness to a poor, humble peddler has not been forgotten, milady.”
I shook my head. “It was nothing, sir. I saw you’d fallen, I wished to make certain you were well.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched as he pulled out a heart shaped vial from his sack. I exhaled, studying the magnificently crafted perfume bottle. The contents within were a rosy red and rolled like a wave with threads of glittering silver.
“What is that?” I asked, enchanted by the strange little thing. I’d never seen anything so lovely.
“It is a potion, milady.” He was clutching the bottle tightly and I could swear that there was suddenly a small tremor working through his hand. “It is meant to… to,” he looked at me, hard and there was now a tension around his beautiful eyes, “make your deepest heart’s desire come to be.”
The words seemed to come out of him with reluctance. I shook my head. It was obvious to me he did not wish to give me the charm. Its contents must be quite valuable. No doubt this peddler could catch great value for it at market. I shook my head and reaching for his hand, I covered it with my own.
Warmth suffused my palm, making me feel the oddest sensations I’d ever felt in my life.
And he sucked in a sharp little breath, his eyes trained on mine.
“Please, keep it. It must be worth a small fortune and I’ve no need of such generosity. My kindness was given freely to you, sir.”
He shook his head. “What is your deepest desire, milady?” he asked me and the word felt weighted, heavy. I heard a yearning in it too, like my answer actually mattered to him.
I almost said I wished for nothing. I wanted nothing. But that wasn’t the truth. I did want one thing. Most desperately. But dare I trust a stranger with such a confession?
The kindness in his eyes was what convinced me to speak. And also, the knowledge that I knew I would never again see this man. I need never worry that he would tell anyone of my secret yearnings.
His thumb suddenly brushed tenderly across my flesh and I shivered, feeling strangely drawn to this man. Then the words came tumbling out.
“Because of my beauty my parents wish to sell me off to the highest bidder. They say such a union will bring great honor not only to them, but to me as well.”
He shook his head. “And you do not want that? You do not want marriage?”
“I want marriage. But a true one. I want what my parents actually have. They are hopelessly in love. They were the second son and daughter of their own families and the pressure to marry well wasn’t on them. I’d hoped that they would do the same for my sisters and I, but they are as greedy in their desperation to gain social standing as their families ever were. There is a male who courts me now.”
His jaw clenched and his thumb pressed down just a little harder, not painfully so. More like an unconscious desire to keep me safely with him. It was so strange, but I felt a kinship with this stranger that I could not understand.
“Do you want him?” he asked me, words feeling weighted and heavy as they spilled off his tongue.
I shook my head. “He is the most beautiful male that walks this earth.”
His brows gathered in sharply and for just a moment I could swear I’d offended him. Though I had not tried to.
“What is his name?”
“Arganon. He is the selfish firstborn of wealthy merchants that live by the docks. He wants me. He has for a very long time. But I fear he does not love me.”
“But he is beautiful. Is that not enough?” There was a pain in his words that I could not understand, because this male was not beautiful by the standard definition. And yet, I recognized a spark in him I wasn’t sure others would. Perhaps he’d been burned by a lover before, one who’d chosen someone else over him.
I shook my head. “Superficial beauty fades in the mortal realm, peddler. It is the heart that remains. And his is ugly. It is dark. I hear rumors of him. Of what he does to his lovers. I fear for my safety if I’m with him.”
His nostrils flared. “Parents should not be able to dictate the lives of their children. It is not fair. Or right. We are autonomous creatures with minds of our own and those feelings should be respected. I am sorry, milady.”
“My name is Psyche. And you may call me so. You’ve given me a great gift, peddler. To hear another, recognize my plight and be so kind to me, it is more than I’ve gotten in a long time.”
He stared down at our hands, at the vial beneath and there was a sadness on his face that I could not understand.
“Psyche, I can save you from him. If you trust me.” He looked up, and there was something a lot like determination glittering in his oceanic eyes. “I can even guarantee that you will find a love like no other. Blessed by the very gods themselves. All you have to do, is drink.”
Then he turned my palm over, and suddenly it was I that held the vial. My lips parted and I looked at him with questioning eyes.
“Do you not trust me?” he asked quietly.
“I shouldn’t.” I blinked. “You and I are but ships passing in the night. We will never see each other again. I would be a fool to take this. And yet…”
I paused, again studying him. There was a sense in me like I’d known this male forever. Like I’d waited the entirety of my nineteen years for him. It was bizarre and so strange. And I had the sudden yearning that this was the male I’d been betrothed to. That it was him and not the beautiful Arganon who was my future.
His knuckles brushed feather light across my cheek. “I do not deceive you, milady Psyche. Most beautiful female both on earth and the heavens,” he said it quietly, reverently and I sucked in a sharp breath. “My potions do work. But I cannot lie to you either. There is a cost with them.”