Excerpt from The Palace of Eros by Caro De Robertis, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Excerpt
The Palace of Eros

Eros was not surprised when her mother summoned her to talk about that pesky mortal girl. Human rumors often veered into absurdity, but in this case they were right: Eros's mother, Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, was jealous.

Her jealousy stormed through halls, withered grapes on the vine. It chafed and howled and turned the sky a sooty gray.

Eros watched the darkening through her bedroom window, from her own wing of the palace the two of them shared, and which was not supposed to be their primary home, first because they were Olympians and meant to share that great mountaintop palace with the other gods, and second because Aphrodite had a husband, Hephaestus, who was good and kind, and a good wife stays by her husband's side. But Aphrodite had no interest in being a good wife, or any sort of wife at all. Both she and Eros preferred to hive off to their separate palace, their mother-and-daughter haven, their glowing refuge from the noise and ways of other gods. A refuge now full of Aphrodite's turbulence.

Sensing it, Eros shuddered, then shrugged. She was accustomed to the tide of her mother's moods. She rode them as smoothly as she rode the air. Whenever her mother seethed like this, it was best for Eros to keep to her own quarters and amusements until the spell wore off and all was calm again.

But this time, Aphrodite's mood did not subside. This time she had no interest in shaking off her own gloom. Instead, she called her daughter to her in a voice rippling with light: Eros! Now! I need you, child.

Eros found her at the colonnade that overlooked the orchard and the sea beyond. She stood tall, her white gown and long hair rippling in the wind. The splendor of Aphrodite. Glorious even in her brooding fury, even with the sky behind her dull as ash. "Yes, Mother?"

"You know about this mortal girl, this Psyche."

"Of course," Eros said, resisting the urge to add, Everybody knows.

"I can't have it. It cannot be allowed to stand. The balance of the cosmos has been disturbed."

It was absurd, an exaggeration, that this one mortal girl could have upset the entire balance of the cosmos, but Eros knew better than to contradict her mother when she was in such a mood.

"You're going to help me right the scales."

"Me?"

"You, Eros. Here's what you'll do. You'll go to this girl, this rude impostor, and make her fall in love with the ugliest, cruelest, most despicable man on earth."

"Sounds grim."

"It will be! For her. For us it will put things right again."

"Us?" Eros leaned against a marble pillar, gazing at her nails. Unable to resist goading her mother, the queen of poise.

"Of course, us," Aphrodite snapped. "My balance is your balance, and yours is mine! There's a crowd of men there every day. I'm sure you'll find one who'll do. Make sure he's horrible in both body and soul, then stab her with love for him—do it. You will ruin her for me, daughter."

Usually, Eros did her mother's bidding without a second thought, as if their wills were blended into one. But this day was different; she heard imperiousness in her mother's voice, and chafed at it. "Will I?"

"You will! I declare it! Don't test me, Eros."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Mother."

"I'm serious. Destroy her and I'll be happy, I will garland you with gifts."

"What gifts?" Eros said idly. She had no need of things.

"Whatever you want. A palace beneath the sea."

Eros dropped the pretense of distraction and took a good look at her mother. As always, she was pure beauty, and yet, there was something else in her face, a surprising tightness. This mortal had truly upset her—or perhaps it was the gossip of collective mortals that had done so. All that vast heavenly power her mother possessed, and still she needed worship to assert her domain, to feel the swell of her inner sails. How surprised humans would be at the vulnerability of their gods, Eros thought. Little do they know. They dream themselves as fragile and us as strong, rather than the way things are, each of us a blend of all things. It was strange to see her mother this way, and slightly disorienting, a shift in the delicate interplay between them. "And tell me, Mother, what would I do with that?"

Excerpted from The Palace of Eros by Caro De Robertis. Copyright © 2024 by Caro De Robertis. Excerpted by permission of Atria Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.