"Aren't you getting one for yourself?" she asked as she took a seat on it.
"I don't need one." He returned the purse to her.
Wrinkling her nose, she stared at the hard stone where he sat oblivious to the cold. "Aren't you uncomfortable?"
"Not really. I'm used to it."
He was used to a lot of things that weren't natural. Something odd went through her chest. It actually bothered her that he was abusing himself. He shouldn't have to do without things and most definitely not while he was with her. Snapping her fingers, she created a pillow underneath him.
He looked up with a startled expression that was almost comical.
"You shouldn't have to sit on cold stone, Acheron."
Acheron touched the padded blue cushion beneath him in disbelief. Only Ryssa had ever cared about his comfort. Well, and at times Catera. But Catera's care had come from a desire to make more money from him. Artemis had no reason to care whether or not he was bruised or cold. He was nothing to her and yet she'd done something truly kind for him. It made him want to smile, but he didn't trust her fully yet. He'd been fooled too many times by people's kindness that had been motivated only by their selfishness.
His chest tightened as his memories surged and he recalled the time he'd been homeless after his father had cast him out of Estes's house.
"I'll give you work, boy . . ."
He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to banish the horror that followed his blind trust. Truthfully, he hated people. They were users and they were cruel to others.
All of them were cruel to him.
"Wine for my lord and lady?"
It took Acheron a moment to realize the old vendor was speaking to him. Stunned by the show of respect, he couldn't formulate an answer.
"Yes," Artemis said imperiously. She handed him coin and he in turn gave her two goblets of wine.
The vendor bowed low before them. "Thank you, my lady. My lord. I hope you enjoy the show."
Acheron couldn't speak as he took the cup from Artemis's hand. No one had treated him with such regard since the time he'd spent with Ryssa and Maia at the summer palace. And no one had ever bowed to him before.
No one.
His throat tight, he slowly sipped the wine.
Artemis paused to study him. "Is something the matter?"
Acheron shook his head, unable to believe that he was actually seated next to a goddess. In public. Wearing clothes. What a strange turn of events.
Artemis dipped her head, trying to meet his gaze.
Out of habit, Acheron averted his eyes.
"Why don't you look at me?" Artemis asked.
"I do look at you."
"No, you don't. You always avert your gaze whenever someone comes near."
"I see you though. I learned how to see without looking directly at things a long time ago."
"I don't understand."
Acheron sighed as he turned the cup in his hands. "My eyes make people uncomfortable so I try to keep them hidden as best I can. It prevents people from becoming angry at me."
"People get angry at you for looking at them?"
Acheron nodded.
"What does that feel like?"
He swallowed at the memories that cut him all the way to his soul. "It hurts."
"Then you should tell them not to do it."
If only it were so easy. "I'm not a god, Artemis. No one listens to me when I speak."
"I listen."
She seemed to, and that meant a lot to him. "You're unique."
"True. Perhaps you should spend more time around the gods."
He snorted at the very idea. "I hate the gods, remember?"
"You don't hate me, do you?"
"No."
Artemis smiled. His words relieved her and she wasn't sure why. Intrigued by him, she reached over to touch his back. The moment she did, he sucked his breath in sharply between his teeth and pulled away. "What's the matter?"
"My back's still tender."
"Tender from what?"
Somehow he managed to give her an insolently droll stare without looking directly at her. "I told you I was forbidden to leave my room. My trip to your temple cost me."
"Cost you what?"
He sighed as the play started. "Let's watch the play, please."
Turning her attention to the actors, she listened as they told some insipid story that held no real interest for her. The human beside her . . . that was another matter. He intrigued her greatly.
Anytime she'd ever approached a human of any stature, he or she would grovel and beg for her approval. Even royalty. Or they'd stare at her as if she were sublime, which, of course, she was. But this one didn't do any of that. He seemed oblivious of the fact that she could kill him with a glance. Even now he was ignoring her completely.
How very strange.
"Why does that group keep singing?"
"It's the chorus," he whispered, his attention firmly on the actors below them.
"They're key-off."
He frowned at her. "Key-off?"
"Their tune . . . it's not right."
"Off-key," he corrected as he turned away from her again. "No, they're not. They sound fine."
She arched a brow at his peeved tone. "Are you arguing with me?"
"I'm not trying to argue with you, Goddess. I'm trying to hear what the actors are saying. Shh."
No . . . no, he hadn't really shushed her! Anger whipped through her. "Excuse me? Acheron? Shh?"
For once he met her gaze and there was no mistaking the agitation in those swirling silver eyes. "I'm not the one talking, Artemis." He turned back toward the stage.
Aggravated at him, she snatched the cowl from his head to get his full attention. The instant she did, she realized she'd made a mistake. Every person near them was suddenly fascinated by Acheron whose face had lost all color.
Without a word to her, he covered himself and rushed for the exit. Several of the people around her headed after him.
Curious, she followed up the stairs and out of the stadium to find Acheron as he was becoming surrounded by people. He appeared panicked as he tried to push his way through the crowd that continued to try and talk to him.
One of the men grabbed him roughly by the arm.
"Let me go," Acheron snarled, shoving at the stranger.
The man tightened his grip so much that Acheron flinched from it.