Psyche

Chapter 7

It was the day of Psyche's seventeenth birthday celebration, and she rose from her bed extremely disquieted. One of the servants had hung out several outfits she was to wear during various events. A linen dress for breakfast with the Macedonian and Babylonian delegations, a leather tunic for luncheon with the Norse people, a cotton dress for attendance at the afternoon games in her honor, and a sparkling silk Atlantean gown with matching hair veil for the evening's feast and ball. She didn't hate the clothes. She appreciated that she was fortunate to have them, and she admired the beauty and craftsmanship of the garments. It's just she didn't like having to parade in front of strangers. It never ended well.

The last time Psyche had had to change clothes so many times was during Eugenia's wedding celebration. In fact, she changed more because the bride had pushed her into a fountain after overhearing one of her new husband's men remark that Psyche was the greater beauty. Psyche continued to remember the incident with annoyance, primarily because the man was only speaking honestly and Psyche was certainly not responsible for the fact that she was more beautiful than her sister.

Shaking off a mix of irritation and mild dread, she rose and had a bath, allowing one of the servants to comb out her long red hair and put it into intricate braids as well as buff her fingernails and her toenails. Normally, Psyche didn't bother with such fuss, but she had resolved to make a show of being pleased and excited about the day's festivities in her honor. Truthfully, she found the whole notion of celebrating her birth - a birth that had caused her parents and sisters no end of trouble - to be a huge, uncomfortable bother. She would have preferred to spend the entire day hiding in Nikolas's observatory rather than making small talk with courtiers who stared at her with gaping mouths, not listening to a word she said. 

She patiently allowed the servants to dress her in the toga-like style, complete with matching sandals. She appreciated the lightness of these garments, and she even took the time to survey herself in the mirror.

It's possible father will marry me off to a Macedonian or an Etruscan, she thought. Then, I would have to wear such clothing all the time. She also hoped she wouldn't be married off to an Egyptian, since she had heard that the lice problem along the Nile necessitated that members of the aristocracy and royal family shave their heads and wear severe black wigs. She might have been ambivalent beauty, but she knew she didn't have such coloring that she could wear a black wig in a way that flattered her. Her sister Eugenia would have looked stunning in a black wig, but she had been married off to her father's chancellor, a man about twice her age and the wealthiest person in Atlantis apart from the king and queen themselves.

Eugenia's wedding had started out a good day for Psyche since it meant her older sister since her chief bully/tormentor/thorn-in-her-side would no longer reside at the palace.  At first, Psyche had been disappointed that their father, in his kingly wisdom, had not married her off to the King of China or one of the Norsemen, making visits impractical, but Psyche had decided to be grateful for the respite that she was being given. The fountain incident had marred it a little, but only just. 

As if summoned by the nature of her thoughts, Psyche looked into her looking-glass and saw Eugenia, dressed in a shimmering gown of the Atlantean style that was hardly appropriate for a breakfast audience with anyone, appear in the doorway behind her.

"You must be feeling wonderful today, my dear little sister," she said, "You're finally blossoming into the woman The Oracle predicted you would be."

Psyche sighed. The Oracle's predictions, as told by Eugenia, tended to change based on Eugenia's mood and just how she wanted to scare or hurt Psyche that day.

"How so, dear sister?" responded Psyche with faux innocence in her voice.

"Well," said Eugenia, "The Oracle said that you would have the beauty of a stone statue - very admirable but not the kind of beauty that incites passion. You will be looked at, not loved. But I'm sure your extraordinary beauty is worth such a price."

Psyche shrugged. "Really, Eugenia, you've always been far more interested in my beauty than me. I had thought that once you had married and were settled into your own household, that your fascination would wane. It seems I was wrong. I have no choice but to be flattered."

Eugenia glared, but Psyche was interrupted by an extended high-pitched wail coming from their parents' chambers. It was Euphemia. The sisters looked at each other, united briefly in mutual annoyance as they heard Euphemia's footsteps running down the hall and getting louder and louder.

"EUUUUUGENNNNIAAAAAA," cried Euphemia, "I have to speak to you now."

Eugenia rolled her eyes.

"You know her better than me," said Psyche. "What do you think she's blubbering about?"

"Mother and Father have betrothed her to a Macedonian. She's going to be a queen, but she'll be living across the sea and only coming for rare visits. No doubt, Mother and Father find her as annoying as everyone else does."

Psyche nodded. As strange as it sounded, she appreciated that she always knew where she stood with her oldest sister, Eugenia. Euphemia, clingy and insecure, was mutable. Psyche had no means by which to gauge her moods or even please her. Eugenia only tolerated their sister because she enjoyed having a toady.

Euphemia, round-faced and apple-cheeked, and very pretty when she wasn't wearing an expression of fear or loathing or sycophancy, bounded into the room. She wore clothes in the Macedonian style, and Psyche thought they oddly suited her.

"Mother and Father have betrothed me to a stranger," she declared through sobs.

"You'll be a Queen," said Psyche. "That's more than Eugenia can say. She'll never be a queen."

Euphemia's eyes widened, and Psyche recognized fear in them. This impressed Psyche. Most of the time, Euphemia wasn't astute enough to know when she should fear Eugenia, but even she must have recognized that in outranking her, she might as well have a target on the back of her dress.

"Well then," said Psyche, "Has anyone seen Nikolas?"

Euphemia nodded.

"He's out riding," said the future Queen of Macedonia.

"That's a shame," replied Psyche, who longed for her older brother's support in the presence of her sisters. It made it easier to tease them since Nikolas leveled the playing field and was quicker to come up with insults. 

"We're so rarely together, the four of us," sighed Psyche, realizing to her surprise that she was going to miss Euphemia. She didn't like her or trust her, but she was going to miss her because she was family.