Free Cupid by Julius Lester Page A

giving a big yawn, wondering what she was supposed to do next. Should she wait where she was for her husband to come and get her? That was when she noticed a path leading into the tall trees of the forest.
    "That must be the way to the home of my husband," she said to herself. Without hesitating, she started toward it, eager for what was to come. She was surprised that she was not afraid, but no monster she had ever heard of had the power to command West Wind to do its bidding. Plus, she was hungry. She had not eaten since yesterday. No. It had been the day before that. Yesterday she had been too busy being sad and worrying.
    Psyche made her way across the meadow to the path and followed it into the woods, where it was cooler. In a short while she came to a small bridge undulating with light. Looking more closely, she saw it was made of long strands of silver as thin as hair. Beneath the bridge flowed a stream. Its sound was not that of water going from its
source to the sea. Instead, it sang a beautiful melody, and the words it sang surprised her:
Beautiful Psyche, be my bride,

O gods be praised.

Psyche has come to be at my side,

O gods be praised.
    "Welcome to your home, my lady," came the soft voice of a woman.
    "Who said that?" Psyche wanted to know, looking around but seeing no one.
    "I am Cinxia, the goddess of marriage. Your husband asked me to come and make sure all of his preparations for you are to your liking," the voice answered. "Please continue across the bridge. You are not far from your home now."
    Psyche looked around once more, but again saw no one. Cautiously she stepped onto the bridge and was amazed that something which looked so delicate was, at the same time, very strong. When she reached the other side, she saw a path and followed it until she came to a clearing. In its center stood a high wall, but instead of being constructed from blocks of stone, it was made of colors—sky blues, ocean blues, violet and iris blues, turquoise, sapphire, lavender and wisteria blues. Psyche went closer and put out her hands to touch the wall. To her surprise, it was as hard as the marble floors of her father's palace.
    "I don't understand," Psyche said quietly.
    Cinxia said, "Every day the blues of the sky are created anew by Sun as he rises. Each evening as Sun leaves the heavens, he takes blue colors to prevent Night from devouring all of them. At your husband's request, Sun gave him some of the leftover blues to use in building this palace."
    What man was so powerful that he could make a request of Sun and have it granted? And how did he make a solid wall from leftover pieces of the sky? Only a god could do something as marvelous as that. But Apollo had said her husband was a monster, not a god. Could someone be a monster and yet create beauty?
    "Come, my lady," the voice interrupted her thoughts.
    No sooner were the words said than a door opened in the wall where Psyche would have sworn none existed. She walked inside and found herself on the grounds of a palace.
    At the center was a round fountain of wrought gold bubbling with a liquid the colors of strawberries, raspberries, and plums, but unlike every other fountain Psyche had seen, this one made music as if it were a lyre being played by Apollo. At the base of the fountain, planted in a series of concentric circles, were flowers larger than any she had ever seen and in colors for which there were no names. Small birds flitted among the flowers like wisps of wind playing with each other.
    At the far end of the grounds stood a palace, a long building in the shape of an arrow, though Psyche could not see the pointed tip. The building was deep red in color because it was built from unfulfilled desires and passions,
emotions as strong as iron and brick, which could last for eternity.
    As Psyche approached the building, the doors opened of themselves, revealing a long hallway gleaming with light. Psyche walked in and looked around. On both walls were