"What happened?" I asked.
He looked away.
I left my loom and crossed the short distance to his side. Kneeling in front of him, I gently brushed the blond hair away from his swollen cheek. "Tell me."
"She hugged Styxx."
I knew without asking who she was. He'd been with our mother. I'd never understood how she could be so loving to me and Styxx and yet so cruel to Acheron. "And?"
"I wanted a hug, too."
Then I saw it. The telltale signs of a boy who wanted nothing more than his mother's love. The shallow trembling of his lips, the slight watering of his eyes.
"Why is it that I look exactly like Styxx and yet I'm unnatural while he is not? I don't understand why I'm a monster. I don't feel like one to me."
I couldn't explain it to him, for I, unlike the others, had never seen the difference myself. How I wished Acheron knew the mother I did.
But they all called him a monster.
I saw only a little boy. A small child who wanted nothing more than to be accepted by a family that wanted to disown him. Why couldn't my parents look at him and see what a kind, gentle soul he was? Quiet and respectful, he never sought to harm anyone or anything. We played together and we laughed. Most of all, I held him while he cried.
I took his little hand into mine. A soft hand. A boy's hand. There was no malice in it. No murder.
Acheron had always been a tender child. While Styxx sought to whine and complain over every minor thing, to take my toys and those of any other child near him, Acheron had sought only to make peace. To comfort those around him.
He seemed older than a child of seven. There were times when he seemed even older than I.
His eyes were strange. Their silver, swirling color betrayed the birthright that linked him to the gods. But surely that should make him special not horrendous.
I offered him a smile that I hoped would ease some of his pain. "One day, Acheron, the world will know just what a special boy you are. The day will come when no one will fear you. You shall see."
I moved to hug him, but he pulled back. He was used to people hurting him and even though he knew I wouldn't, he was still reluctant to accept my comfort.
As I stood, the door to my sitting room opened. A large number of guards came inside.
Scared of the sight, I stepped back not knowing what they wanted. Acheron clenched his small fists in the skirt of my blue gown as he huddled behind my right leg.
My father and uncle walked through the men until they stood before me. The two of them were virtually identical in looks. They had the same blue eyes, the same wavy blond hair and fair skin. Though my uncle was three years younger than my father, one would never guess to look at them. They could easily pass as twins.
"I told you he would be with her," my father said to Uncle Estes. "He's corrupting her again."
"Don't worry," Estes said. "I shall take care of the matter. You'll never again have to worry about him."
"What do you mean?" I asked, terrified of their dire tone. Did they intend to kill Acheron?
"Never you mind," my father snapped at me. I'd never heard such a harsh tone from him before. It made my blood run cold.
He grabbed Acheron and shoved him toward my uncle.
Acheron looked panicked. He reached for me, but my uncle took him roughly by his arm and jerked him away.
"Ryssa!" Acheron called.
"No!" I shouted, trying to help him.
My father pulled me back and held me. "He is going to a better place."
"Where?"
"Atlantis."
I watched in horror as Acheron was taken away, screaming for me to save him.
Atlantis was a long way from here. Too far, and up until a very short time ago, we'd been at war with them. I'd heard nothing but terrible things about that place and everyone who lived there.
I looked up at my father, sobbing. "He'll be afraid."
"His kind are never afraid."
Acheron's screams and pleas denied those words.
My father might be a powerful king, but he was wrong. I knew the fear inside Acheron's heart.
And I knew the fear of my own.
Would I ever see my brother again?
November 3, 9532 BC
It had been nine years since I last saw my brother, Acheron. Nine years and not a day had gone by without my wondering what he was doing. How he was being treated.
Whenever Estes visited, I always took him aside and asked about Acheron.
"He's fine and healthy, Ryssa. I cherish him as an addition to my household. He has everything he requires. I shall be glad to tell him that you asked after his welfare."
Still, something inside me was never quite content with those words. I'd petitioned father repeatedly to send for Acheron. To at least bring him home for a holiday. As a prince, he should never have been sent away. Yet there he stayed in a country that was constantly on the brink of war with ours. Even though Estes was an ambassador, it didn't change the fact that if we went to war, Acheron, as a Greek Prince, would be killed.
And Father refused every request I made.
I'd been writing to Acheron for years and normally he wrote back religiously. His letters were always brief with only a handful of details, but even so I cherished every one.
So when a letter had come to me a few weeks ago, I'd thought nothing unusual about it.
Not until I read it.
Greetings most esteemed and exalted Princess Ryssa.
Forgive me for my forwardness. Forgive me my impertinence. I found one of your letters written to Acheron and have, at great peril to myself, decided to write to you. I cannot tell you what harms befall him, but if you truly love your brother as you say you do, then I would ask you to come and see him.
I'd told no one about the letter. It hadn't even been signed. For all I knew it was a hoax.
Yet I couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't, that Acheron needed me.
For days I debated about going until I could stand it no more.
Taking my personal guard Boraxis with me for protection, I snuck out of the palace and told my maids to tell my Father I was visiting my aunt in Athens. Boraxis thought I was a great fool for traveling all the way to Atlantis for a letter that the author hadn't even signed, but I didn't care.
If Acheron needed me, then I would be there.
However that courage faltered days later as I found myself outside my uncle's home in the capital city of Atlantis. The large gleaming red building was even more intimidating than our palace at Didymos. It was as if it had been designed for no other purpose than to inspire fear and awe. Of course, as our ambassador, it would benefit Estes to impress our enemies so.
Far more advanced than my Greek homeland, the island kingdom of Atlantis glistened and glowed. There was more activity from the people around me than I'd ever seen before. It was truly a bustling metropolis.
Swallowing the fear I felt, I looked at Boraxis. Taller than most men, with coarse black hair he wore braided down his back, he was large and burly. Lethal. And he was loyal to me to a fault, even though he was a servant. He'd been protecting me since I was a child and I knew I could rely on him.
He would never allow me to be harmed.
Reminding myself of that, I walked up the marble stairs, toward the golden entrance. A servant opened the door even before I reached it.
"My lady," he said diplomatically, "may I help you?"
"I've come to see Acheron."
He inclined his head and told me to follow him inside. I found it odd that the servant didn't ask me for my name or business with my brother. At home, no one was allowed near any of the royal family without a thorough screening.
To admit someone unknown into our private residence was a crime punishable by death. Yet this man thought nothing of leading us through Uncle's home.
Once we reached another hall, the older man in front of me turned back to look at Boraxis. "Will your guard be joining you for your time with Acheron?"
I frowned at the odd question. "I suppose not."
Boraxis sucked his breath in sharply. There was worry in his deep brown eyes. "Princess . . ."
I put my hand on his arm. "I should be fine. Wait here and I'll return quickly."
He didn't look pleased by my decision and honestly neither was I, but surely no harm would come to me in my uncle's home. So I left him there and continued down the hallway.
And as we walked, what struck me most about my uncle's home was how eerily silent it was. Not even a whisper could be heard. No one laughed. No one spoke.
Only our footsteps echoed down the long, dark corridor. Black marble stretched as far as I could see, reflecting our images back at us as we made our way through the opulence of carved naked statuary and exotic plants and flowers.
The servant led me to a room on the far side of the house and opened the door.
I stepped inside and hesitated as I realized it was Acheron's bedroom. How very strange for him to admit me here without knowing I was Acheron's sister. Then again, perhaps he did. That would explain much.
Aye, that must be it. He must have realized I looked a great deal like my brothers. Except for Acheron's divine silver eyes, we had identical coloring.
Relaxing, I glanced about. It was an exceptionally large room with an oversized hearth. There were two settees before the stone hearth with an odd, pole structure between them. It reminded me of the punishment block, but that made no sense. Perhaps it was something unique to Atlantis. I'd heard all my life that the people here had bizarre customs.
The bed itself was rather small for a room this size, with four tall posts intricately carved into the design of a bird. On each post, the bird's head was turned upside down so that the beaks curled outward like hooks to hold bed curtains back, yet there were no bed curtains there.
Like the foyer leading to the room, the walls were a shiny black marble that reflected my image back to me perfectly. And as I looked about, I realized there were no windows in this room at all. Nor was there a balcony. The only light came from wall sconces scattered about. It made the room very dark and sinister.
How very strange . . .
Three servants were making Acheron's bed and a fourth woman oversaw them. The overseer was a frail woman, slight of stature who appeared around the age of forty or so.
"It's not time," she said to the man who had led me through the house. "He's still preparing himself."
The man curled his lip at her. "Would you have me tell Gerikos that I kept a client waiting while Acheron dawdles?"
"But he hasn't had time to eat yet," the woman insisted. "He's been working all morning without a single rest."
"Fetch him."
I frowned at their whispered words and behavior. Something was very wrong here. Why would my brother, a prince, be working?
The woman turned toward a door on the far side of the room.
"Wait," I said, stopping her. "I'll get him. Where is he?"
The woman passed a fearful look to the man.
"It's her time with him," the man said firmly. "Let the lady do as she wishes."
The older woman stood back and opened the door to an antechamber. As I stepped through, I heard her and the man gather the servants and leave.
Again, how very peculiar . . .
Hesitantly, I stepped into the room expecting to find Styxx's twin brother. An arrogant youth who thought he knew everything about the world. An insulting, boastful man-child who was sullen and spoiled who would wonder why I was bothering him with so foolish a quest.
I was completely unprepared for what I found.
Acheron sat in a large, bathing pond alone. He had his flawless bare back to me and was bent over with his blond head against the rim as if he were too tired to sit up while he bathed himself. His long hair hung just past his shoulders and was damp, but not wet.
My heart pounding, I moved forward and noticed a strong scent of oranges in the air. A small tray of bread and cheese was set on the floor beside him, untouched.
"Acheron?" I whispered.
He froze for a moment, then rinsed his face in the water. He left the tub and quickly toweled himself dry as if completely unabashed by the fact that I had intruded on his bath.
There was an air of power that surrounded him as he toweled himself with short, quick strokes, then tossed the towel toward a small stack of them.
For an instant, I was captured by the youthful, masculine beauty of him. By the fact that he made no move to dress or cover himself. All that adorned him were gold bands. He had a thin one around his neck that held a small pendant of some sort. Thicker bands encircled each of his biceps at the top of his arm and at the crook of his elbow with another band around both wrists. A chain of smaller circles connected each band down the length of his arms. And a band of gold with a small circle attached was worn around each ankle.
As he approached me, I was stunned by what I saw. He was Styxx's twin in physical looks and yet I saw few similarities between them.
Styxx moved fast. Mercurially.