Acheron (Dark-Hunter #14)

Acheron (Dark-Hunter #14) Page 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?

I grabbed my cloak and headed outside to check on him.

As soon as he saw my approach, he shrank from me until he was up against the far stone wall. With no place else to go, he sank to his knees and held his arm up as if to protect his head and face. "Forgive me, Idika. Please, I-I-I meant no offense."

I knelt beside him and took his face in my hands to soothe him. He tensed so much at my touch that it was a wonder he wasn't brittle from it. "Acheron, it's all right. No one's angry at you. You've done nothing wrong. Shh . . ."

He swallowed as his fright turned to confusion. Dear gods, what had they done to him that he should tremble so when he'd done nothing to warrant it?

"I was only curious why you were out here without your shoes on. It's cold and I didn't want you to catch a fever."

My concern baffled him as much as his fear baffled me.

He gestured toward his room that held a small terrace which, like mine, opened out onto the garden. The door was still ajar. "I didn't see anyone here so I thought it safe. I just wanted to feel the grass. I-I meant no harm, Idika. I was going to return to my room as soon as I finished. I swear it."

"I know," I said, stroking his face again before I released him. He relaxed a tiny degree now that I didn't touch him. "It really is all right. I'm not upset at you. But I don't understand why you'd want to feel the grass as cold as it is. It's all dried up this time of year."

He brushed his hand over it. "Does it not always feel like this?"

I frowned at his question. "You've never touched grass before?"

"I think I did when I was small. But I don't remember." He brushed his hand over it again in a gentle action that wrung my heart. "I only wanted to touch it once. I won't leave my room again, Idika. I should have asked permission first. Forgive me." He hung his head down.

I wanted to reach out and touch him again, but I knew how much he hated that. "You don't have to ask my permission, Acheron. You may come here anytime you wish. You're free now."

He looked at his branded palm that held his slave's mark, then clenched it into a fist. "Idikos said that the king made him promise I would never leave the house."

I gaped at his disclosure. "You've been locked in your room since you arrived at Atlantis?"

"Not always. When idikos returns from a trip, I greet him in the receiving room. I'm always the first one he wants to see. Then sometimes idikos chains me in his office by my ankles or to his bed. And at night I go to the dining hall and to the ballroom when we have parties."

And every night he slept in Estes's bed. He'd already told me that much.

"But you've never been outside?"

He glanced at me, then averted his gaze. It was what Estes had taught him to do since so many people were put off by his swirling silver eyes. "I'm allowed to sit on the balcony between clients so that my skin isn't so pale. Meara will even let me eat out there sometimes."

I'd learned from him that Meara was the maid who'd written to me and who'd helped him escape. She'd been the kindest of his keepers and the only one who'd made sure that he ate and was comfortable . . . when not entertaining. The other thing I'd learned from him was that Estes used food to control him.

Acheron ate only when he was pleasing to others. How much he was allowed depended on how many clients he'd seen that day and how happy they'd been with him.

The very thought sickened me.

"You love Meara, don't you?"

"She's always kind to me. Even when I'm bad, she doesn't hurt me."

Bad. Defined by Estes as anytime a client was rough with Acheron and left a mark on his body. Acheron was charged with pleasing them in any way they wanted and yet if they wanted to be rough and he allowed it, he was punished for it. If he didn't allow them to hurt him, they were displeased and Estes punished him twice as hard for not giving them what they paid for. Acheron couldn't win this battle.

I clenched my hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch him. I just wanted to gather him into my arms and hold him until the nightmare that had been his life was completely erased from his memory.

But how? How could I make him understand that he was safe now? That no one would ever touch him without his explicit invitation? That he was free to make his own decisions and that no one would beat him for voicing his opinion?

Or for walking outside to feel the grass on his feet?

It would take time. "I'm going back to my room." I pointed to the doors that opened into my chambers. "You can stay out here as long as you like. When you're hungry, tell Petra, the tall older woman you met on our arrival, and she'll make you whatever you wish. If you need me, don't hesitate to come to my room. The day is yours, little brother. All I ask is that you please put on your shoes so that you won't fall ill."

He nodded and didn't move until I'd put enough distance between us that he was sure I couldn't strike him. I wanted to weep over that.

But there was nothing to be done except to show him that I meant what I said. His life was now his own.

Withdrawing, I returned to my room where I watched him as he put on the shoes he must have been holding under his cloak. Then he explored the small garden for hours. He must have touched everything that was there, feeling the texture and smelling it.

It wasn't until the sun had begun to set that he made his way back to his room. I waited a few minutes before I went to the kitchen and had Petra take him a tray of food.

"Highness?" she asked as I started to leave.

"Yes, Petra?"

"Our guest . . . is he all right?"

"He's fine. He's just bashful and quiet."

She nodded before she made his tray and left with it. Her daughter, whose name I couldn't recall, smiled at me from the corner where she played by the fire.

"You're friend seems lost, Highness. Like the puppy I found last summer. At first he was scared to let anyone near him, but I kept talking to him and leaving him food." She pointed to the dog that was sleeping a few feet from her. "Now he's the best dog in the world. He never leaves my side."

"Everything in the world needs kindness, child."

She nodded, then went back to playing.

I watched her for a moment as old memories surged. Acheron had never been given toys even before Estes had taken him away. Back then, I would share mine with him, but they were all he'd ever had.

The girl was right. My brother was sadly lost. I just hoped that in time he would become as comfortable here as the dog obviously was. That he would learn to feel welcome in a world that so obviously hated him.

November 19, 9532 BC

I'd slept late today without meaning to. It was almost the noon hour before I awoke. And what awakened me was the most startling thing of all.

It was the sound of a child's laughter.

I got up and pulled my red woolen cloak around me before I walked to the window so that I could look outside.

There in the garden was Acheron with the cook's young daughter. They sat on a cloth with bread, meat, olives and figs while they talked and played a dice game. I couldn't hear what was being said, but the little girl would squeal with laughter every so often.

When the girl decided to stand, she reached out and touched Acheron's shoulder. He didn't cringe at all. To my amazement, he actually picked her up and set her on her feet so that she could run inside.

For the first time since I'd found him, he was relaxed. He ate without fear and his features weren't pinched. He glanced about openly and would actually look the girl in the face.

The girl returned with her doll which she handed to Acheron. He took it and pretended to feed it an olive. The girl squealed in delight.

Enchanted by their play, I headed outside to join them. As soon as Acheron saw me, the light went out of his eyes. I watched as he literally pulled back into himself and became instantly afraid.

"You should go, Maia," he whispered to the girl.

"But I like playing with you, Acheron. You don't get angry at me for being silly or asking questions."

"She can stay," I added quickly. "I didn't mean to disturb the two of you."

Acheron kept his gaze locked on the ground.

I sighed before I glanced to the girl. "Maia, would you fetch me a cup of wine from the kitchen?"

"Yes, Highness. I'll be right back."

As soon as she was gone, I turned to Acheron who was withdrawn and fearful again. "Have you been around many children?"

He shook his head. "It's forbidden."

"But you seem so at ease with Maia. Why?"

He wrapped his cloak tighter around himself before he spoke. "She wants nothing from me other than a playmate. To her, I'm no different than any other adult. She doesn't mind my eyes and she isn't aware that I'm unnatural."

"You're not unnatural, Acheron."

He looked up at me with those eerie eyes. "You feel the pull of me. You haven't acted on it yet, but you feel it just like everyone else. Your heart quickens when you watch me move. Your throat goes dry as your eyes dilate. I know the physical signs. I've seen them too many times not to."

It was true and I hated the fact that he could see inside me so easily. "I would never touch you like that."

A tic started in his jaw before he looked away. "Gerikos and others have said that, too. And when they can no longer resist it, they hate me and punish me as if I have control over it. As if I make them want me." This time when he met my gaze, I saw the anger that burned deep inside him. "Sooner or later everyone who's around me fucks me, Idika. Everyone."

His anger ignited my own. "And I will never touch you like that, Acheron."

The doubt in those eyes burned through me.

"What of Meara?" I asked, trying to show him that not everyone was an animal out to mount him. "She never touched you like that, now, did she?"

The look he gave me told me the answer. My stomach shrank.

"She was kinder than most."

No wonder he didn't trust me. How in the name of Olympus could I ever convince him that I wasn't like that when everyone else had used him? Yes, I felt that unnatural allure he spoke of. But I wasn't an animal unable to control my urges. It sickened me that others had so little control that they would have used him so.

"I will prove myself to you, Acheron. You can trust me. I promise."

Before he could respond, Maia returned with my wine. I offered her a kind smile before I took it from her. "You two play. I need to go bathe and dress."

After rising to my feet, I headed toward my room. At the door I paused to look back at them.

Acheron was rolling the dice while Maia held her doll. He was right, there was an unnatural something about him that called out to my body. Even when he was unhealthy in his appearance, he was beautiful. Compelling.

He looked up at me and I quickly glanced away before I entered my room.

"You're my brother, Acheron," I whispered. "I won't hurt you." It was a promise not only to him, but to myself as well.

December 15, 9532 BC

The mild winter continued. Warm enough some days even to venture outside without cloaks.

Over a month had passed since I escaped with Acheron. My letters sent to my father with false locations helped to keep us safe. As did the men and women I bribed to give false sightings of us in other cities. I just hoped he continued to buy into my ruse until spring when it would be safe for us to travel.

The drugs were gone from Acheron's body now and I scarcely recognized the boy I'd found chained to a bed.

His hair shiny and gold, he had gained weight and could easily be mistaken for Styxx now. All except those swirling silver eyes, and his quiet, introverted personality. There was no boisterous swagger, no annoying bragging.

Acheron was thoughtful and respectful. Grateful for any kindness shown to him. He could sit for hours and not move or speak. His favorite activity appeared to be just sitting on the balcony that looked out over the sea, watching the waves crash into the shore, watching the sun rise and set with a fascination that amazed me.

Or playing games of chase and dice with Maia. The two of them shared a bond that warmed my heart. Acheron never hurt her or raised his voice. He very seldom even touched her. And when it came to her incessant questions, he had more patience than anyone I'd ever seen. Even Petra commented on it and how grateful she was that Maia had found a willing playmate.

Earlier today, we'd been out in the orchard, trying to find fresh apples even though it was past season. Acheron had finally admitted to a preference for the fruit-it'd taken me weeks of trying before he would admit a preference for anything.

"Do you think Father will come soon?" he asked.

I swallowed in fear. I don't know why I'd kept up the lie. Except that the truth of Father's feelings was something I didn't think he needed to know. It was easier to tell him that his family loved him-that they all felt toward him as I did.

"Perhaps."

"I would like to meet him," he said as he peeled an apple with his knife. It was the only one we'd found and though it wasn't quite fresh, Acheron didn't seem to mind. "But it's Styxx I'd like to meet most. I can only vaguely recall him from before."

From before. That was the only way he'd refer to the time in Atlantis.

He'd ceased speaking of himself as a whore, said nothing of torture or abuse, not even when I asked him for details. His eyes would become haunted and he would hang his head low. So I learned not to ask, not to remind him of anything about his years spent with our uncle.

The only telltale sign of his time there was still the way he moved. Slowly, seductively. He had been so thoroughly trained as a prostitute that even here, he couldn't shake those movements.

The only other reminder of his past were the balls in his tongue that he refused to remove and the brand on his palm.

"It hurt too much to have it pierced," he'd told me when I'd asked about the balls. "My tongue was so swollen that I couldn't eat for days. I don't want to have to experience that again."

"But you won't, Acheron. I told you, I won't let them return you there."

He'd looked at me with the same indulgence he'd given Maia when she told him that horses could fly-like a parent who didn't want to spoil the child's delusion with the truth.

So the balls remained.

But then so did Acheron.

January 20, 9531 BC

I sat for hours today, watching Acheron. He'd awakened early as he often did and walked down to the beach. It was so cold that I feared he'd become ill, but I didn't want to infringe on his freedom. He'd lived so long with rules dictating his every movement and opinion that I never wanted to impose any limitation on him.

Sometimes the mind's health was even more important than that of the body. And I believed he needed his freedom more than he needed to be protected from a small fever.

I kept to the shadows, just wanting to observe. He walked for almost an hour in the freezing surf. I had no idea how he withstood the coldness of it, yet he seemed to derive pleasure from the pain.

Whenever one of the sea animals from the water washed ashore, he took great care to get it back into the water and send it on its way.

After a while, he climbed up the craggy rocks where he sat with his legs bent and his chin resting on his knees. He looked out across the sea as if waiting for something. The wind blew his fair hair out and around him, his clothes rippled from the force of it while the water plastered the light golden curls of his legs to his skin.

Still, he didn't move.

It was almost noon before he returned. He joined me in the dining hall for our midday meal. As we were being served, I saw the jagged cut he had on his left hand.

"Oh, Acheron!" I gasped, worried about the deep gash. I took his hand into mine so that I could examine it. "What happened?"

"I fell against the rocks."

"Why were you sitting up there?"

He pulled away, uncomfortable.

That only worried me more. "Acheron? What is it?"

He swallowed and dropped his gaze to the floor. "You will think me mad if I tell you."

"No, I won't. I would never think such a thing as that."

He looked even more uncomfortable before he spoke in a thin tone. "I hear voices sometimes, Ryssa. When I'm near the sea, they're louder."

"What voices?"

He closed his eyes and tried to withdraw.

I gently took his arm and kept him by my chair. "Acheron, tell me."

When he met my gaze, I saw the fear and anguish inside him. It was obvious this was something else that had caused him to be beaten in the past. "They're the voices of the Atlantean gods."

Shocked by his unexpected answer, I stared at him.

"They call to me. I can hear them even now like whispers in my head."

"What do they say?"

"They tell me to come home to the hall of the gods so that they can welcome me. All but one. Hers is stronger than the others and it tells me to stay away. She tells me that the others want me dead and that I shouldn't listen to their lies. That she'll come for me one day and take me home where I belong."

I frowned at his words. By his eyes, everyone knew Acheron was the son of some god. But to my knowledge no demigod had ever heard voices of the other gods. At least not like this.

"Mother says that you must be a son of Zeus," I told him. "She says that he must have visited her one night, disguised as Father, and that she didn't know he'd been in her bed until you were born. So why would you hear the voices of the Atlantean gods when we're Greek and your father is either Zeus or a Greek king?"

"I don't know. Idikos drugs me whenever I hear them until I'm too dizzy and numb to notice anymore. He says it's a figment of my mind. He says . . ." His face stricken, he looked away.

"He says what?"

"That the gods have all cursed me. It's their will that I serve as I do. It's why I was born so unnaturally and why everyone wants to sleep with me. The gods all hate me and they want to punish me for my birth."

"The gods don't hate you, Acheron. How could they?"

He wrenched his arm from my grasp and gave me a look so insolent that I was shocked by it. Never had he shown this much spirit. "If they don't hate me, then why am I like this? Why has my father denied me? Why would my mother never even look at me? Why have I been kept as an animal whose only role in life is to serve as my master bids me? Why can't people look at me without attacking me?"

I cupped his face in my hands, grateful that he no longer tensed when I touched him. "That has nothing to do with the gods. Only other people's stupidity. Has it never occurred to you that the gods sent me to free you because they didn't want to see you suffer anymore?"

His gaze fell. "I can't hope for that, Ryssa."

"Why not?"

"Because hope scares me. What if this is all I am? A whore to be bartered and sold. The gods make kings and they make whores. It's obvious which role they chose for me."

I winced at his words. Honestly, I preferred the weeks when he refused to mention being a whore. I hated the reminders of what had been done to him against his will, especially those wretched balls in his tongue that flashed every time he spoke.

"You are not cursed!"

"Then why when I tried to gouge out my eyes would they not stay out?"

Paralyzed by those words, I couldn't breathe for several seconds. "What?"

"I've tried three times to gouge out my eyes so that they couldn't offend others, and each time they returned to my skull by themselves. If I'm not cursed, why would they do that?" He lifted his hand to show me that cut that had already started to mend. "Injuries that take weeks for others to heal, heal in days if not hours on me."

Tears stung my eyes at the pain in his deep voice. I didn't know what to say to that. "You get sick. I've seen it."

"Not for long. Not like a normal person and I can go three weeks without a single morsel of food or drop of water and not die." The fact that he knew how long he could go without nourishment told me it'd been done to him. But even though he could go that long and not die, he starved just like the rest of us. I knew that too from being with him.

I closed my hand around his. "I don't know the will of the gods, Acheron, no one does. But I refuse to believe that it's their will to hurt you so. You were a precious gift that was scorned by the very ones who should have cherished you. That is a human tragedy that shouldn't be laid at the feet of divinity. The priests often say that the gifts of the gods are sometimes hard to accept or identify, but I know in my heart that you are special. That you are a gift to humanity. Never doubt that you were placed here with some higher purpose and that purpose was not with malice or to be abused."

I swallowed before I kissed his injured hand. "I love you, little brother. And I see in you nothing but goodness, intelligence, compassion and warmth. One day I hope you'll see it too."

He placed his other hand on mine. "I wish I could, Ryssa. But all I see is a whore who's tired of being used."

February 15, 9531 BC

Time has flown by as I've watched Acheron grow from a timid, frightened boy into a man who is more confident to voice his own opinions. He no longer cringes or holds his head down. When I speak to him, he now meets my gaze levelly. Truly his transformation has been the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed.

I'm not sure if I've had the most impact on that, or if it was Maia who finally reached him and brought out this new side. The two of them are inseparable.

Today they were in the kitchen while Petra was cooking. I stood in the doorway watching them closely.

"You have to pound the bread like this." Maia chopped at it with her tiny hands as she knelt on a tall stool so that she could reach the table. "Pretend it's somebody you don't like," she whispered loudly as if imparting a great secret to him.

Acheron's expression glowed with warmth. "I didn't think there was anyone you didn't like."

"Well, I don't, but there's probably someone you don't like."

I didn't miss the torment in his eyes as he averted his gaze. I wondered who topped his list. Our father or our uncle?

"We need more milk."

Acheron dutifully handed it to her.

Petra glanced over, smiled and shook her head at them as Maia added much more salt than was needed.

Maia wiped her runny nose before she put her hands back in the dough. I cringed, making a mental note not to eat any of the bread they were cooking, but Acheron wouldn't be so squeamish. He'd even eaten a bite of a mud pie several days ago to make Maia happy.

"Now we have to shape it into loaves. Let's do little ones because those are my favorite."

Acheron dutifully complied.

The dog started barking.

"Shh!" Maia said as she tore a part of the dough and handed it to Acheron so that he could make a loaf. "We're working."

The dog jumped up and pushed Maia who lost her balance. Acheron caught her against him at the same time the dog jumped at his leg, unbalancing him. One instant, they were upright, the next they were on the floor with Acheron on his back and Maia on his chest. The dog barked and danced around them, bumping into the table.

The bowl of flour they'd been using tumbled over the edge and landed on top of them. I covered my mouth as I looked at them, saturated with dough, flour and milk. All that was visible were startled wide eyes.

Maia squealed in laughter and to my utter amazement, Acheron laughed, too.

The sound of it, combined with an honest smile from him, stunned me. He was absolutely beautiful when he smiled . . . even when he was covered in flour and dough.

His eyes were bright as he wiped the flour from his face and helped Maia clear some off her cheeks.

Petra let out a sound of disgust as she shooed the dog out of the kitchen. "You two look like shades out to scare me to an early death. What a mess!"

"We'll clean it, Petra, I promise," Acheron said as he set Maia on her feet. "You're not hurt are you?"

Maia shook her head. "But I fear our loaves are all a ruin." Her tone was dire indeed.

"True. But we can always make more."

"But they won't be as good."

I bit back a laugh. Yes, it was true, the swipe of Maia's runny nose had been the perfect spice necessary to all good bread. Without that, I was sure the next batch would be nowhere near as good. However, I kept that comment to myself while Acheron comforted the poor child.

Acheron took Maia outside so that the two of them could shake the flour out of their clothes and hair while Petra set about cleaning up the kitchen. Within a few minutes, they were back to help.

I watched in awe that a prince would be so considerate. But Acheron never flinched at helping Petra whenever he and Maia were in the kitchen with her. It was just his nature.

And he always doted on Maia like a patient older brother.

"Acheron?" Maia asked as he set out a new bowl for her. "Why do you have those silver things in your tongue?"

He glanced away. "They were put there when I wasn't much older than you."

"Why?"

He feigned a menacing face. "So that I could scare little girls who annoyed me."

She giggled as he gently tickled her. "I don't think you could ever scare anyone. You're too nice for that."

He didn't comment as he helped her measure out the flour.

Maia scratched her head as she watched him with innocent curiosity. "Do the balls ever hurt?"

"No."

"Oh." She cocked her head to study his lips. "Do you ever take them out?"

"Maia," Petra said gently as she returned to the lamb she was seasoning, "I don't think Acheron really wants to talk about them."

"Why not? I think they're pretty. Can I have some?"

"No," Acheron and Petra said simultaneously.

Maia huffed. "Well I don't see why not. Princess Ryssa has small silver balls in her ears and Acheron's are very pretty too."

Acheron tweaked the end of her nose. "They hurt when they're put in, akribos. It's a pain you never want to know and it's why I don't take them out. I don't want anyone to hurt me like that again."

"Oh. Is that like the burn on your hand that you told me about?"

Petra turned toward them. "What burn on his hand?"

"The one Acheron did when he was young. It's very pretty, too, like a pyramid. He said he got it because he didn't listen to his mother. He said it's why I should always listen to you when you tell me what to do."

A dawning light came into Petra's eyes. Acheron didn't miss it. Lowering his head submissively, he mumbled an apology to Maia before he left.

I followed him. "Acheron?"

He paused to turn back toward me. "Yes?"

"She didn't mean anything by her questions."

"I know," he breathed. "But it doesn't make it any less painful, does it?"

I wanted so desperately to hold him. If only he'd allow it. But only Maia in her innocence was able to reach out to him. "You can take the balls out and we can disguise your hand. No one would ever know then."

"I would still know." He laughed bitterly. "You can't undo the past, Ryssa. Marks on my body or not, it's always there and it's always brutal." His eyes seared me and in them I saw an anguish no boy so young should ever know. "Because of the way I heal, have you any idea how many times and how deep they had to burn my hand in order to scar it?"

Nausea welled up inside of me. It was something I'd never considered. "Your past is over, Acheron. All that remains are the two parts you won't let go of."