Free Cupid by Julius Lester

strict instructions to bring you to his realm."
    "Then, if you cannot take me down so the people can see me one last time, tell me about my husband. Is he truly a monster?"
    "There are those who would say so, and there are those who would say not. That is as much as I can say."
    "Can, or will?" Psyche wanted to know.
    "Can and will," Favonius responded. Then, as if to stop any further conversation, he did a series of somersaults, turning over and over, and Psyche squealed with delight.
    Finally, Favonius began gliding earthward with the gentleness of floating dandelion fluff.
    "That is where you spent the night," Favonius said.
    Psyche turned her head to see a mountain, a huge boulder sitting at its edge. While there was a path leading up the summit on the other side, this side of the mountain was sheer stone that looked as slippery as ice. At the mountain's base was a swift-moving river bordered by a grove of trees so tall and thick Psyche thought they must have been growing since the creation of the world. Beyond the trees was a broad valley, and it was here Favonius brought Psyche and set her down gently in a meadow of grasses and wildflowers.
    "I must leave you now," he said. "Your husband has asked me to be at your service. If you should ever need me, you need only say my name. One of my breezes will carry your voice to me, and I will come. You should rest now because tonight you will become a wife."
    Psyche realized just how tired she was, lay down in the soft grasses, and was asleep at once.

    Sun was feeling cranky that morning. He had tossed and turned all night, despairing because Psyche had been taken away. If there had ever been a morning when he did not want to get up, this was it. But he had a job to do, so he struggled out of bed and took a sleepy step onto the sky. With each step, he created the reds and oranges of dawn and, finally, the blues of the day.
    Midway through the morning, as Sun struggled past the top of the mountain from which Favonius had taken Psyche, he looked down into the hidden valley.
    "Psyche!" he shouted as he saw her asleep in the grass. Sun was so happy, he began shining brighter than he ever had. His light became so glaring and bright, people had to put their hands over their eyes, but even that did not help much.
    In the Kingdom of the Ferns, one Alexander Agrippa Antony, an olive-oil taster, walked out his front door, and the sunlight was so strong, it knocked him down! Triple A, as he preferred to be called, picked himself up and hurried back inside. There were olive oils coming in that day from Sausalito, Spain, and Glendale, Greece, and he had a lot of sniffing to do. But if the sunlight knocked him down every time he left the house, he would never get to work, and inferior olive oil might be allowed into the kingdom. Triple A could not imagine anything more horrible than people cooking with inferior olive oil.
    He had to do something, but what? Triple A thought and thought and thought, and then he snapped his fingers. He went to his cellar and found an old jar, caked with dirt inside. He put the jar in front of his eyes, then tied it around his head. When he went back out, he could see without being blinded by the sun's exuberant glare.
    When people saw what Triple A had on his eyes, they asked him if he had more jars like that. He had a basement full because his wife, like mine, never threw anything out. He sold all the jars, and Triple A and his wife became wealthy people. In case you were wondering, that is how sunglasses were invented. However, even though Triple A
no longer needed a job, he and his nose remained in the forefront of the war against bad olive oil!

    Sun's warmth woke Psyche. Sitting up, she saw that she was in a grassy meadow of the softest greens. Red, blue, and yellow wildflowers glistened among the grasses like stars in the night sky. The air was warm, and Favonius had sent a breeze as delicate as rose petals to stroke her.
    She stood up and stretched,