Acheron (Dark-Hunter #15)(12)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

With a few harsh words, Father had undone all my months of careful nurturing.

I glared at my father, hating him for what he was doing. "Estes abuses him, Father. Constantly. He sells Acheron to-"

My father slapped me for those words. "That is my brother you speak of. How dare you!"

My face stung, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t stand by quietly and let them shatter the soul of an innocent boy who should be coddled, not thrown away like he was nothing. "And that is my brother you cast off. How dare you!"

I didn’t wait to see what else he would say. I ran after Acheron who’d already been ushered away by the guards.

He was waiting at the front entranceway of the palace for horses to be brought to them. His head was bent so low that he reminded me of a turtle who only wanted to crawl back into its shell so that no one could see him. His grip on his arms was so tight that his knuckles were white.

He stood like a statue.

"Acheron?"

He refused to look at me.

"Acheron, please. I didn’t know they’d come today. I thought we were safe."

"You lied to me," he said simply as he stared blankly at the floor. "You told me my father loved me. That no one was ever going to make me leave here. You swore that to me."

Tears fell from my eyes. "I know, Acheron."

He looked at me then, his silvery eyes tormented. "You made me trust you."

Shamed to my soul, I tried to think of something to say to him. But nothing substantial would come. "I’m so sorry." It was a lame apology even to my own ears.

He shook his head. "I was never to set foot out of my chambers without escort. Never was I to leave the household. Idikos will punish me for leaving. He’ll . . ." Horror filled his eyes as he tightened his grip on himself even more.

I couldn’t even begin to imagine what was waiting for him in Atlantis.

The horses were brought forward.

When Acheron spoke, his words were a soft, heart-wrenching whisper. "I wish you’d left me as I was."

Chapter 6

He was right, and deep in my heart I knew it. All I’d done in my stupidity was to hurt him more. I had shown him a better life, one where he was respected and given choices.

Now he would have no say in anything about his life. He would be less than nothing in Atlantis.

I sobbed as a guard grabbed him roughly by his arm and forced him into a chariot. Acheron never looked back at me. I realized he must truly hate me for what I’d done to him and I couldn’t blame him for it.

Heartsick, I stood there and watched as they rode away.

"Acheron!" Maia screamed as she came tearing out of the doorway.

Only then did he look back. His face was stoic, but I saw the tears in his eyes as he waved good-bye to her.

Falling to my knees, I pulled Maia into my arms as she sobbed with the heartfelt sadness that haunted me as well.

Acheron was gone and there was no hope of my ever freeing him again. Father would make sure of that.

Then I remembered the words the old priestess had uttered the day of his birth.

May the gods have mercy on you, little one. No one else ever will.

I knew just how right she’d been. Acheron was right, the gods had cursed him.

Otherwise we would have had our three days . . .

June 23, 9530 BC

It had been one year since I last saw Acheron. Maia and I sat in the orchard of the summer palace for hours this afternoon thinking about him. Wondering what he was doing. How he fared. I told Maia that I was sure he was fine, but in my heart I knew the truth. He was anything other than fine. There was no telling what was being done to him while the two of us sat nibbling on olives and cheese while playing in the warm sun.

I’d sent numerous letters to Acheron in Atlantis to no avail. No one would tell me anything of him. The maid who’d originally contacted me had died under suspicious circumstances-that much I’d overheard in a conversation between my father and my uncle not long after Acheron had returned to Atlantis.

Estes hasn’t spoke to me since.

I’d attempted to ask my uncle on his last visit about Acheron. He brushed me aside with a bitter dismissal. He knows I know what he’s doing and he will no longer acknowledge me in the least.

I’m dead to my uncle. Not that it really matters to me at this point. He died to me the moment I saw my brother tied to a bed because of Estes’s greed.

But it made me wonder how Acheron felt about me. If he even thought about me anymore. Did he hate me over what had happened? Or was he so drugged now that he no longer even recalled my name?

There was no telling.

I had no hope of saving him again. Because of what I’d done, Father now keeps me under extreme guard at all times. I no longer have the freedom to travel without his express permission. Boraxis was reassigned to cleaning out the stables and replaced with another guard who refuses to even speak to me.

Even Styxx barely acknowledges my presence.

"How can you let your own twin suffer so?" I’d asked him barely a week after Acheron had been taken.

"Estes would never do such a thing. It’s another of your lies designed to make us free Acheron. You should be grateful I’m not king yet. I’d have you whipped for such treachery."

I’d wanted to choke him for his obstinacy.

Even more upsetting were the rumors I’d heard of political trouble between Greece and Atlantis. Our truce seemed to be threatened. What would happen to Acheron should war resume? Even though Father and Styxx denied it, Acheron was still a Greek prince. He could easily be taken prisoner and executed . . .

I wondered if Father had considered the fact that if Acheron were killed, he’d lose his precious Styxx in the process. Most likely, he’d forgotten that bit of prophecy.

But I remembered and I ached for a brother I doubted I’d ever see again.

Acheron was lost to me now.

If only I could see him one last time . . .

September 21, 9529 BC

Estes died two days ago while he was staying with us on Didymos. Styxx and my father were naturally heartbroken. But I wasn’t so stricken. While a part of me was saddened by his untimely death, another part rejoiced. Though Estes had been rather young to have had the seizure that claimed his life, I couldn’t help but wonder if it hadn’t been sent by the gods to punish him for what he’d done to Acheron. Perhaps it was uncharitable of me to think that. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder.

We were headed now for Atlantis to collect Acheron and bring him home at long last.

Home where he belongs.

Because of the impending war with Atlantis, Father intended to close Estes’s house and sell it. I couldn’t be more thrilled by the prospect. And I was sure that Acheron would be even more so. No doubt he wanted to see it kept even less than I did.

Before we’d left home, a suite had been prepared for Acheron at the palace. I couldn’t wait to see him again. What I could almost find humorous was that, after avoiding me for so long, Father and Styxx allowed me to accompany them. Of course that was only so that I could keep Acheron away from them. But I didn’t care so long as I saw him again.

Just a few days more and we’d reach Atlantis. This time, when I collected Acheron, he would stay where he was safe.

September 26, 9529 BC

I was excited beyond excited when I saw Estes’s house again. Not much had changed since my last visit. Even the same servant opened the door. He seemed surprised to see the three of us, especially my father.

"I’ve come to collect Acheron," my father announced. "Show me to him."

Without a word, the gloomy old man led us down the same hallway I’d traveled once before. Down to the room that had haunted my nightmares and thoughts.

My happiness died as we reached it and reality came crashing down on me.

Nothing had changed.

Nothing.

I knew it before the servant opened the door.

When it swung open my worst fears were confirmed with crystal clarity.

"What is this?" my father roared.

I covered my mouth with my hand as I saw Acheron on his bed with a man and a woman-all of them were completely nak*d and writhing entwined on the linen sheets. I was horrified by the sight of what they were doing to Acheron. Of what he was doing to them.

In all my life, I’d never seen such depravity.

The man pulled back from Acheron with a feral curse. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded in an equally imperious tone. I could tell by his bearing that he was an Atlantean of wealth and power. "How dare you interrupt us!"

Acheron gave one last playful thrust and lick to the woman’s body before he rolled over onto his back. He lay unabashedly nak*d on the bed, smirking.

"Prince Ydorus," Acheron said to the angry man addressing my father. "Meet King Xerxes of Didymos."

That took some of the bluster out of the prince, but not much.

"Leave us," my father demanded.

Offended, the prince gathered his clothes and his companion and did as my father ordered.

Acheron wiped his mouth on the sheet. His skin once more had that sickly, gray cast to it. He was even thinner than he’d been the last time I’d seen him in this room, his features gaunt. He was again adorned with the gold bands on his neck, arms, wrists and ankles.

Worst of all, I saw the balls on his tongue flash in the light as he spoke. No longer did he clench his teeth as if embarrassed by what he was. Now it was as if he took pride in it.

"So what brings you here, Majesty?" Acheron asked, his tone mocking and cold. "Do you wish to spend time with me, too?"

It was then I realized the hurt boy I’d saved was gone. The man on the bed was bitter. Angry. Defiant.

This wasn’t the youth who’d fearfully snuck out of his room so that he could feel the grass on his feet.

This was a man who had been used one time too many. And he wanted the world to know exactly how much he hated it and everyone who was part of it.

"Get up," my father snarled. "Cover yourself."

One corner of his mouth quirked up in a mocking expression. "Why? People pay five hundred gold pieces an hour to see me nak*d. You should be honored you get to look for free."

Father strode over, grabbed him roughly by his arm and pulled him from the bed.

Acheron covered Father’s hand with his own and tsked at him. "It’s a thousand gold pieces an hour if you want to bruise me."

Bile rose in my throat.

Father backhanded Acheron so hard he fell to the floor where he sprawled nak*d on his back.

Laughing, Acheron licked at the blood on his lips before he wiped it away on the back of his scarred hand. "It’s fifteen hundred to make me bleed."

My father curled his lips. "You’re disgusting."

With a wry grin, Acheron rolled to his side and gracefully pushed himself up from the floor. "Careful, Father, you might actually hurt my feelings." He walked around my father like a proud, stalking lion, looking him up and down. "Oh wait, I forgot. Whores don’t have feelings. We have no dignity for you to offend."

"I am not your father."

"Yes, I know the story well. It was beaten into me years ago. You’re not my father and Estes isn’t my uncle. It saves his reputation if everyone thinks I’m some poor waif he found on the streets and gave shelter to. It’s fine to sell a homeless beggar, a worthless bastard. But the aristocracy frowns on those who sell their blood relatives."

Father backhanded him again.

Acheron laughed, unfazed by the fact that his nose was now bleeding along with his lips. "If you really want to hurt me, I’ll ring for the whips. But if you continue to strike my face, you’ll make Estes unbelievably angry. He doesn’t like anyone to mar my beauty."

"Estes is dead," my father roared.

Acheron froze in place, then blinked as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. "Estes is dead?" he repeated hollowly.

My father sneered at him. "Yes. Would that it were you in his place."

Acheron took a deep breath and the relief in his eyes was tangible.

I could almost hear his thoughts in my head.

It’s over. It’s finally over.

Acheron’s obvious relief made my father furious. "How dare you have no tears for him! He sheltered and protected you."

Acheron looked at him drily. "Believe me, I’ve paid him well for his shelter and concern. Every night when he took me to his bed. Every day when he sold me to whomever paid his price."

"You lie!"

"I’m a whore, Father, not a liar."

Father attacked him then. He beat and kicked furiously at Acheron who didn’t bother to fight or protect himself. No doubt he’d been trained to take that too. I ran to Acheron, trying to shield him.

Styxx pulled Father back. "Please, Father," he said. "Calm down! The last thing you need is to tax your heart. I don’t want to see you die as Estes did."

Acheron lay on the floor once more. His face covered in blood and bruises, had already started to swell.

"Don’t," he said, pushing me away. He spat the blood from his mouth to the floor where it landed in a stark red splatter.

"Get out," Father snarled at him. "I don’t ever want to see you again."

Acheron laughed at that and cast a look to Styxx. "Rather difficult for that, isn’t it?"

Father started for him again, but Styxx put himself between them.

"Guards!" Styxx shouted.