Part I Chapter 4
"He is not my son!"
I shook my head, unable to believe his denial. So Acheron had been right all along. Father had intentionally sent him away and he would never allow him to return. Why had I not seen the truth earlier? Because I loved my father. To me, he'd always been kind and adoring.
At least now I knew the truth.
Now I saw him for what he really was. Heartless.
"So that whole story you told me about protecting Acheron was wrong?"
"What are you talking about?"
He didn't even remember his own lies. "You told me when they took Acheron away that you were doing it to protect him. You said that two heirs shouldn't be raised together as it would be an added target for enemies. You said you would bring Acheron home when he was old enough. You never intended to return him here, did you?"
"Leave us!"
I did. The sight of him and Styxx truly sickened me just then. And with every step that took me away from my father, I lost respect for a man I had once adored.
How could he do this? How could he not care? How could the same man who coddled me and Styxx turn his back on his heir?
I returned to my chambers to find Acheron sitting on the balcony. He had his legs bent, his chin resting on his knees, and his arms were crossed around them.
He was sweating again. His eyes were hollow and empty. He looked so ill and frail. How could my father fear a boy who wouldn't even meet someone's gaze?
I knelt beside him and reached to touch him. He tensed as he always did.
Acheron didn't like to be touched. No doubt he'd suffered enough touching to last his lifetime.
"Father isn't here," I lied even though I choked on the words.
How could I tell this boy the truth? I'd begged for his trust, only to find out that I was a fool.
How could I tell him that if it were up to his father, he would again be sent to Estes to be prostituted to anyone who was willing to pay for him?
I couldn't let him know the truth any more than I could let him go back to Atlantis.
"I'm going to take you to the summer palace to wait on him."
He didn't question me, which let guilt roost in my heart. But what did it matter? I was going to take him someplace safe. Secure. Someplace where no one would hurt him or shame him.
I stood up and motioned for him to follow me and he followed without question.
We moved down the back hallways the way we'd entered the palace-like petty, fearful thieves instead of the heir and princess of this land. Acheron didn't know we were being secretive or that I was terrified of what would happen if anyone saw us.
Luckily they didn't and in no time we were gone again. But in my heart, I kept wondering how long I could stay away before Father dragged me home.
What would happen to Acheron then?
November 18, 9532 BC
The summer palace was completely empty this time of year. Only a small handful of servants were in residence. Petra our cook, her child and her husband who was also the groundskeeper. A housekeeper and overseer finished out the small number.
Luckily, they were all loyal to me and would never tell my father that I was staying here with a guest who bore a striking resemblance to the heir. I didn't explain Acheron's existence and they didn't ask. They merely accepted it and made a room ready for him that was only two doors down from my own.
Acheron was extremely hesitant as he entered the room. By the way he looked around, I could tell he was thinking back to his old room where uncle had sold him to others.
"May I speak, Idika?"
I hated whenever he called me that. "I've told you repeatedly that you don't have to ask me to speak, Acheron. Say whatever is on your mind." Uncle had beaten him so often for speaking out of turn that he couldn't seem to break the habit.
"Who will I be sharing this room with?"
My heart wept at his whispered question. He still had a hard time believing that he didn't have to use his body to pay for every kindness or staple. "It's your room, Acheron. You share it with no one."
The relief in those silver eyes made my throat tighten.
"Thank you, idika."
I wasn't sure what to despise more, his insistence on calling me his owner or that he thanked me for not selling him.
Sighing, I patted him gently on the arm. "I'll have some of Styxx's clothes brought in for you to wear."
He turned away before he spoke again. "He'll be angry should he learn I've touched them."
"He won't be angry, Acheron. Believe me."
"As you wish, idika."
I ground my teeth at his subservience. While Styxx went so far as to be obnoxiously domineering, often making people redo tasks just for the feeling of power he had over them, Acheron accepted anything done to him without complaint.
Wishing there was something I could do to make him feel safe and more comfortable, I left him in his room and went to rest in mine. I just needed a small break from the stress of worrying about him. The servants here were mostly elderly and the one thing I'd noticed was that older people seemed more immune to whatever it was Acheron possessed. Or if not immune, they were less likely to act upon it.
Not to mention, the staff would realize he was family and that alone would keep them away from him.
I hoped.
Weary, I went over to my desk and wrote a quick note to Father to let him know that I needed some time away from Didymos. He was used to my travels as I often visited my widowed aunt in Athens or would come here to the summer palace so that I could just be alone. Like Acheron, I valued my solitude. So long as I had Boraxis with me and kept my father notified of my well-being and whereabouts, my father was indulgent of my impulsive trips.
The only place he'd forbidden me to visit had been Atlantis-now I knew why. And to think, I'd honestly believed him when he'd told me it was too far and dangerous a trip for a girl my age to make without proper escort. Little had I suspected it was to protect his brother and his licentiousness.
I'd just finished writing the note telling my father I was in Athens, when I stood up and paused. My attention was caught by movement outside my window, in the garden. At first, I couldn't believe what I saw.
It was Acheron.
How unlike him to do anything without express permission. He would barely move unless he was told to do so. I had to blink twice just to make sure I wasn't dreaming. But no, it was definitely he . . .
Even though it was a mild winter, it was cold enough to need a cloak outside. Yet there he stood, barefoot, walking in the grass by the fountain. He had his head bent low and appeared to be curling his toes in the grass. It looked as if he was enjoying the sensation, but since he never smiled, it was hard to tell.
What on earth was he doing?