Pandora's box Part 2

Her foot on the highest step, Pandora looked down to see Epimetheus waiting for her in the great hall. He did not bow his head as was customary in her land, but gazed at her with open admiration, a smile playing on those arrogant and inviting lips.

Her heart quickened as her steps slowed. She held her head high, in an attempt to smooth the lines around her neck. She felt rather than saw his assured move towards her. Glancing down once more, she saw his startling blue eyes glinting with desire, his tanned arm outstretched to aid her, his wolfish grin inviting her to take him by the hand. She longed to grasp the hand to her chest, longed too to press herself against his own muscular chest.

Indeed, between her first step on the highest stair and the bottom of the wooden flight, Pandora fell into an infatuation so deep, she felt she was drowning in the wide, Ionian sea. It was as if she had been bewitched. 

“My lady,” Epimetheus said, his tone low and teasing. “You do me a great honour in meeting with me so promptly.”

Pandora smiled, attempting her usual cool and disinterested tone, yet her words trembled with loneliness and need. “I wished to meet you as soon as I saw you, Epimetheus.” She flushed, feeling the startled movements of servants in the shadows around her as she pronounced his name. She coughed and continued. “I believe you hold some knowledge about the box now housed in my rooms.”

“I know nothing of any worth, your majesty, only that the box seemed to be seeking its rightful owner – you.”

Pandora nodded. “And do you know from whence it came?”

Epimetheus shook his hair, his blonde locks dancing. “I do not know for certain, yet…”

“Yet what?”

“I have heard tell of such jewels before, your majesty, and those metals speak of riches and power beyond mere human knowledge or skill.”

“Beyond human knowledge?” Pandora shivered. “You can’t mean…?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I believe those are the jewels fashioned by the Gods. Surely, the box has been sent as a message or a portent.”

“A message or portent of what?” Pandora asked.

Epimetheus’s face creased into a mischievous smile. “Perhaps riches, perhaps power… perhaps love.”

Pandora gazed at his mouth, longing to press her own lips to his. She knew she should upbraid him for daring to speak to her in this easy, light manner; she should send him on his way. She should certainly not allow perfect strangers to talk to her of love.

“Love?” she echoed, her cheeks burning as she heard her own girlish tone responding to him.

“Aye, love.” Epimetheus answered. “That box looks fit for a marriage gift. Do you have any such plans or any such suitors in mind, my lady?”

He was openly grinning down at her now, confidence oozing from him.

Pandora gazed and capitulated to desire, raising her voice in defiance of any eavesdropper or even the Gods themselves. “I believe I do, indeed.”

A cold wind whistled around the palace walls, shaking the leaves from the luscious trees. In the rose garden, white petals fell like snow.