Laughter boomed from Papa.
"What's so funny?" Cinderella demanded.
"Well," Papa said, touching her nose with a forefinger. Eros found himself married to the goddess, Pysche after pricking himself accidentally with one of his own arrows."
"Oh." Cinderella hadn't understood.
Her father had shaken his head after reading her the story, and said, "Silly man never had a chance." A self-deprecating smile touched his lips. "I'm sure your blessed maman did quite the same to me."
Both tears and a soft giggle escaped her. She longed to run her fingers over the molded figure. The temptation to wade through the pond to do just that was overwhelming.
Instead, she dashed away the tears. Rarely had she allowed the memories to saturate her as they did now. But for once she indulged in their warmth and comfort.
"His arrows came in two types, you know: One, golden with dove feathers which aroused love. The other had leaden arrows and owl feathers. Instilled indifference." The deep voice from behind caught her by surprise. As strong and deep as a bass instrument, just as she'd remembered.
She spun surprised but turned quickly away. To see him dressed as she was, a lowly servant. An odd tingle in the atmosphere surrounding them. She hardly dared to breathe.
Her heart pounded. Did he recognize her in this ugly gown? La! And, with the ashes on her cheeks. Avoiding his eyes, she maintained a steadfast gaze on Eros. In a rebellious pique, she threw caution to the winds. "Certainment. He was described as 'bittersweet' and 'cruel' to his victims; but was also known as unscrupulous, mischievous, and-" her voice dropped, "-best of all, charismatic." She saw the text in her mind's eye. Silence filled the air and she let out a dramatic sigh. Mayhap, her stepsisters were not the only consummate actresses.
*****
Prince had sauntered from his hidden shelter in the trees, fascinated by the odd duckling whose gaze appeared thunderstruck by a statue. He'd always thought Eros somewhat silly. After all, how had a god erringly stabbed himself with an arrow?
But Prince could not deny his curiosity with the chit who seemed oblivious to her surroundings but for the frivolous stonework before her.
Matching her drama, the merriment of the moment chased away thoughts of his unfortunate predicament. "The personification of love in all its manifestations. It included physical passion at its strongest." He grinned at her sudden pink cheeks, then dropped his voice, as she had. "Tender, romantic love. And playful, sportive love." Her quick gasp delighted him.
Despite the pink cheeks, her soft laugh burst through. 'Tis then he'd seen her tears. To his delight, however, she continued in the spirit of the moment though her voice raised not much above a whisper. "His is believed one the oldest of the gods. Born from Chaos, representing creative power and harmony."