The King of Hearts - Jovee Winters Page 0,36

respond, “I want you to really think about my question. Is it vengeance upon the mortals that you most require, or… would your freedom squelch your need for retribution? I have the power within me to grant you one request, so choose wisely.”

He narrowed his eyes, shaggy brows dropping and furrowing heavily as he studied me intently.

And as he did, I read the thoughts of his heart.

I caught snippets of the injustices that’d been done to him. More than simply walking about in chains, he’d been beaten, he’d been abused, and his humanity had been grossly violated. He’d been taunted repeatedly, told that he was nothing more than a beast. But shockingly, throughout the images I continuously caught flashes of Psyche herself.

Tending to his wounds.

Speaking to him as though he were a man. Pouring her heart out to him one quiet night that she’d been betrothed against her will and that she would rather die than be wed to such a vile man.

I also caught flashes of Psyche’s sisters, joining in on their father’s sport of Basil. The only kindness and decency he’d received had been at the hands of Psyche. I inhaled deeply, holding back a shudder of response.

Seeing her as Basil saw her, it only made me care deeper for her. She’d been raised in the same sort of toxic environment, told that her value lied only in what she could attain for her father’s coffers. It was so easy now to understand why she’d willingly taken that vial from me.

Her life had been equally as miserable as my own. But though I’d grown robotic, almost unfeeling through the years, it seemed as though Psyche had grown more and more empathetic to the plight of others. Especially those deemed lesser.

“I felt you inside of me,” he rubbed at his chest with a thumb, slowly back and forth. His gaze hooked mine. “You can, therefore, not be surprised that I actually think highly of her. So far as humans are concerned.”

“And yet still you would hurt her,” I said, again not a question. Stubborn minotaur would likely not answer if I had.

Shoving a hand through his fur on his head, he shook his head. “Know that I would not want to, Lord Eros—”

I shook my head. “Just Eros. I do not hold with pompous titles and ceremony.”

He paused, seeming amused but also hopeful that I might not be as all the others that’d come before me.

“As you say,” he responded gruffly, “but the truth is I know I would one day snap and with her being the only human in such close proximity to me she would bear the brunt of my displeasure. So, I suppose, what I am saying is if I had a choice, I would choose my freedom.”

On the outside the Minotaur seemed cold and forbidding, but I knew I’d guessed correctly when I’d seen the glimmer of unimaginable pain glowing like a cinder behind the fire of his eyes.

I nodded. “So, mote it be,” I whispered, and with just those words alone, the ringing out of rending metal exploded through the labyrinth.

Basil gasped, staring down at the spelled chains in disbelieving wonder. “How did… they are dipped in dragon’s blood. Nothing is stronger.”

Then he looked at me, and there was a new light in his eyes now. Shock. Disbelief. Hope now burned brighter than it had before. “Why would you do such a thing, Eros, son of Aphrodite?”

I dare not answer him. Even walls had ears. But I was feeling something too. Deep inside of me, it was unfurling and coming to life. Like a seedling bursting through the darkness, I felt the stirring of something far greater within myself than I’d ever known before.

I shook my head, but my words came out softly. “Perhaps, Basil, the scales have recently fallen from my eyes. Perhaps I only wish to be redeemed, to find purpose greater than what I’ve known before.”

He nodded and for several tense moments we looked upon one another, questions burning upon the tips of our tongues. But I’d run out of them now and though I knew he was surprised that I’d not betrayed him, I also knew he and I were not friends. Might never be, Basil’s mistrust of the gods and of mortals was deeply entrenched within him. A wound that might never heal, though I hoped he would find his own rest from that painful burden someday.

I knew his life would be no better though, even without the shackles,