23. Ancient History: Part One

3000 years ago

Princess Sàrka sat at her husband's side, her face rigid with hostility. They'd married two months ago, in a ceremony all her friends and family had shared with her. He was handsome, strong and brave. She was beautiful and rich. It was supposed to be her happy ending. But it hadn't been. Her husband refused to touch her. They sat with an icy gulf between them, his gaze fixed on her younger sister. Psyche.

When Princess Psyche laughed, he smiled – enchanted. Sàrka grinded her teeth together.

"Psyche, dearest." Called their father, the king, limping his way over. "Come, keep your old father company. I've missed you."

"I'm sorry I stayed so long in Crete, father. I missed you too."

Psyche jumped from her seat and took her father's arm, helping him to reach the dais. She sat down beside him, occupying their late mother's throne, at his side. The king indulgently patted Pschye's arm, listening to what she was playfully whispering to him.

Sàrka dropped her spoon, deaf to the loud clatter that the utensil made as it hit the table. It was a pity that death had visited Crete, and failed to take Psyche away with it.

**

Sàrka marched down the halls of the palace to her husband's rooms, rage in every long stride she took. Her spies had intercepted her husband's letters, warning her of his intention. Sàrka's dress billowed out, the dark material blending with the shadows. She burst into his chambers and found him writing at his desk. She sneered in disgust.

"I didn't invite you here." He said, without glancing up from his poetry. Sàrka stood over him.

"You cannot divorce me." Her voice was stiff, her lips barely moving. He blinked, but didn't look up.

"I'm freeing us both from this mess."

"You are freeing yourself. You are abandoning me."

The Prince continued to write, refusing to look up at her.

"You dishonour me." She spat.

"I cannot love you."

Tears pricked in Sàrka's eyes.

"You have never tried to." Her voice wobbled and she sucked in air sharply, trying not to cry.

"It is impossible."

Sàrka lashed out suddenly, knocking everything from the desk and sending it crashing to the floor.

"Because of Psyche!" She finally yelled, losing control. "Don't fool yourself that you can have her!"

The blood drained from the prince's face and he finally looked up at his furious wife. Sàrka glared at him. "If you divorce me, I will have you banished! You will never get to see Psyche again!"

The prince leapt to his feet.

"Why are you making me stay married to you?!"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE MINE!"

**

Sàrka determined that she would have her happy ending. No matter the cost.

Sàrka sat at a large oak table in a cavernous room that was lit by numerous candles and lined with shelves of bottled wine.

"May I offer you a drink?" The priest asked, a twinkle in his aged eyes. Sàrka smiled sweetly and nodded. He poured her a glass.

"More."

The priest was taken aback but Sàrka batted her eyes innocently. "Please." He filled her goblet to the brim.

"You know what you want in life, don't you?" The priest mused. Sàrka met his gaze head-on.

"I want more, of everything in life."

"It's fortunate that you were born a Princess."

Sàrka sniffed.

"But not an only child." She drank from the goblet, savouring the sweet taste. The priest studied her, intrigued. "What about you?" She asked, pointedly. "What do you want?"

"The king, your father, has seen fit to reduce the number in my order. He curbs the power of priests."

"And you want your rights and privileges restored." Sàrka arched a delicate eyebrow. "My father won't give you that. But I would, if I were queen." She sighed heavily. "It's a shame, my father wants to leave the throne to my sister. He thinks her more suitable."

"I think you and me both disagree with that."

Sàrka smiled, her eyes flashing dangerously. She raised her goblet.

"To being an only child."

The priest clinked his goblet against hers. "To making you an only child."

Their plan was swiftly put into motion.

The priests of Apollo came to the palace, begging for an audience with the king. Once admitted to his presence, they all fell to their knees – weeping.

"Please, your majesty. Last night every member of our order had the same dream. It's a sign, a terrible warning from the gods!"

The king was flabbergasted.

"What did you dream?"

The head priest spoke for the rest.

"We saw the young Princess Psyche. She was eating at a fine table. But she ate more and more – unable to stop. The tables were laden with a feast but soon there was only a pile of bones left behind." The priest trembled. "Blood poured from the princess' mouth and she transformed, into a terrible beast!"

The royal advisors gasped appalled. One joined the priests in kneeling before the throne.

"This is surely a sign from the gods!" He concurred. "Apollo does not want Princess Psyche to rule. Please listen to the gods warning, your majesty." The old man bowed low and many of his colleagues joined him.

"Silence," the king roared. "I have heard enough!"

The king refused to listen. But it didn't end there.

At one breakfast, Psyche cracked an egg only to find a bloodied fledgling inside. This too was seen as a bad omen. Slanderous reports were pasted to the palace doors. They accused Psyche of sleeping with the king of Crete. The gossips claimed that Queen Pasiphaë had died of heartbreak, after learning about the betrayal. Since the Queen of Crete's death was a mystery, this story spread like wildfire.

The king stood by his daughter, refusing to disinherit her.

At a feast, he went so far as to rise to his feet and address the court.

"Tonight, after this fine meal, all of my loyal subjects will swear an oath – pledging to accept Princess Psyche as my heir."

"I will be the first to swear the oath!" Piped up Sàrka's husband. The king nodded at him, pleased.

The feast began and the nobles murmured to one another, uneasy, as they ate.

"How do you like your meal?" The prince asked eagerly, with eyes only on Psyche. Psyche smiled at her brother-in-law.

"It's delicious. I've never tasted a better pie."

"That's nice. Your appetite has suffered under the stress of this week." Sàrka added, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

Psyche frowned suddenly, coming across something strange in her pie. She nudged aside the gravy, trying to work out what it was. Psyche's scream echoed across the palace. She stared, horrified, at her plate.

"It's a human ear!" Exclaimed a courtier. "There's a human ear in the Psyche's pie!"

"The Princess has eaten human flesh!"

The king stared in dismay as his court erupted into chaos. The nobles were on their feet in uproar and Pschye was alone, on her hands and knees – throwing up on the great hall floor.