The Dark-Hunters, page 415
Ignoring me, he sat down and opened a box on the table. I watched in silence as he placed several strange weeds and flowers in a flagon. He lit them, then closed the lid. Picking up a small clay bowl, he held it to his face, covering his mouth and nose, and inhaled it.
“What are you doing?”
He took several breaths before he pulled the clay bowl away from his mouth. “I’m using Xechnobia.” At my frown, he explained it to me. “It’s a drug, Ryssa.”
“Are you sick?”
He laughed at that, then inhaled more of it. “That’s a matter of opinion,” he said after a small pause. A tic started in his jaw as he watched me closely. “I use it so that I can forget how many pairs of hands I’ve had on me in one day. It allows me to sleep in peace.”
I’d heard of such things, but in my world they didn’t exist. No doubt it was Estes who’d shown him the drug. I wanted to weep at what had become of the Acheron who used to bake bread and play games with Maia.
“So why are you here, Princess?” he asked.
“I wanted to see you.”
“Why?”
“I was worried about you. I saw you today in the market and wanted to see how you were doing.”
Acheron added more herbs to the pot, then blew on them to stir the embers around them. “I’m well. Now you can go home and sleep in wealth and good conscience.” The mocking sarcasm of his tone stung me soul-deep.
I shook my head as tears gathered in my eyes. “How can you do this to yourself?”
He arched a mocking brow. “I’m a trained dog, Ryssa. I’m only doing what I was well taught to do.”
“This is so demeaning. How could you have gone back to this?”
His eyes stormy, I saw the rage he bore me. “Gone back to this? Why, big sister, you speak as if this is a bad thing. For me it’s paradise. I only have to fuck ten to twelve people a night, generally only one at a time. I’m finally allowed to eat at a table, not off the floor or someone’s lap. No one makes me beg for food or punishes me the few days a year when I’m sick and can’t screw. If anyone hurts or beats me, Catera bans them from her stew. She even pays me for my work and I get a day off once a week. Best of all, when I go to sleep, I go to bed alone. I’ve never had it so good.”
I wanted to scream at the horror he described. The fact that I knew it was the truth only hurt me more. “And so you’re content to live like this?”
He set the clay pot down on the table and pierced me with his mercurial gaze. “What do you honestly think, Princess?”
“I think you’re worth more than this.”
“Well, aren’t you special to be able to see me as something more than a whore? Let me educate you on what the rest of the world sees. I left Atlantis and was sick for weeks from the drugs Estes had forced down my throat.”
I remembered well how ill he’d been when I had rescued him.
“I had nothing but the himation you gave me. No money, no clothes. Nothing.”
“So you went back to whoring?”
“What choice did I have? I traveled far and wide, while trying to find work doing anything else, but no one would hire me to work. When people see me, they only want one thing from me and I happen to be very good at it. Tell me, Princess, if Father threw you out tomorrow, naked on the streets, what would you do? What do you know how to do?”
I lifted my chin. “I could find something.”
“I defy you to try it, Princess.” He gestured toward the door behind me. “Go ahead. I don’t even know how to sweep a floor. All I know how to do is use my body to please others. I was sick and alone with no references, friends, family or money. I was so weak from hunger that even a beggar stole your himation from me while I lay on the ground, wanting to die and unable to stop him from taking it. So don’t come here now with your disdainful eyes and look at me like I’m beneath you. I don’t need your charity and I don’t need your pity. I know exactly what you see when you look at me.”
“Do you really?”
He stood up and spread his arms wide, showing me his perfect naked body. “I see it clearly on your face. What you see is the pathetic little boy who kissed his father’s feet and begged him not to send him back to whoring. You see the whore who pleasured a prince and was then thrown from his home.”
I shook my head in denial. “No, Acheron. What I see is the little boy who used to run up to me and ask why his parents didn’t love him. The same little golden-haired cherub who chased sunbeams in my room and laughed when they filled his palm. You are my brother and I will never see anything bad about you.”
The anger on his face intensified to the point I actually thought he might strike me. “Get out.”
Covering my head, I turned and left.
I waited for him to stop me. He didn’t.
And with every step I took, I cried harder for what I’d found this morning. My precious Acheron was gone and in his place was a man who wanted nothing to do with me.
The worst part was, I couldn’t even blame him for it. This was all so unfair. He should be in his royal apartments with servants at his beck and call.
Instead he was locked into a nightmare that neither of us could release him from. Surely this wouldn’t be his life. Surely Acheron was meant for more than this.
Yet how could I deny what I saw? He was right. People only wanted one thing from him. And unless Father was willing to protect him, Catera was better than nothing.
My little brother was a whore. It was time that I realized the truth.
AUGUST 23, 9528 BC
The day had dawned with the most wretched of meetings. I’d been told that my father and his senators had decided to try and placate the god Apollo with a human sacrifice.
Me.
Ever since war had broken out between Greece and Atlantis, the Greek kings had been trying to think of some way to stave it off. But the Apollites who ruled Atlantis hated us and were determined to make the whole of Greece nothing more than an Atlantean province.
Afraid of being slaves to the superior technology of the Atlanteans, the Greek city-states had been fighting with everything we had.
Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be enough. Apollo favored the Atlanteans and the Apollites he’d created who shared Atlantis with them. So much so that as long as they fought during the light of day, they were invincible.
The Greek kings were at their end. So the priests and oracles had gathered to see what, if anything, could return Apollo’s favor to the people who’d originally worshiped him.
“The god can only be distracted and tamed by the most beautiful of all princesses,” the oracle of Delphi had proclaimed to them all.
Some lunatic had then named me as said princess.
That man, I could kill.
“Father, please,” I begged, following in the wake of him and Styxx. They were headed toward the Senate room and had no time for me. Not that that was unusual.
“Enough, Ryssa,” he said sternly. “The decision is made. You are to be offered to Apollo. We need him on our side if we’re to win this war against the Atlanteans. So long as he continues to favor and aid them, we will never stand a chance. If you are his lover, he will look more kindly toward our people and might be swayed to our cause.”
It stuck in my craw that I was to be bartered and sold without so much as …
I stumbled as I thought of Acheron. I finally understood exactly how he felt. Understood what it was like to have no say in what was done to my body.
It was an awfully sick feeling. No wonder he’d thrown me out of his room. No doubt in my innocence I’d seemed quite sanctimonious about something I had no understanding of.
However, I wasn’t through with them. Determined, I followed Father and Styxx into the back corridor.
As we approached the main hall, the sound of a small group of senators conversing out in the atrium stopped me dead in my tracks.
“He looks just like Styxx.”
My father and Styxx paused as they heard them, too.
“What say you?” another voice asked.
“It’s true,” the first senator said. “They couldn’t look more alike had they been born twins. The only difference is their eye color.”
“His eyes are eerie,” a third senator interrupted. “You can tell he’s the son of some god, but he won’t say which one.”
“And he’s in a stew you say?”
“Yes,” the second man said. “I’m telling you, Krontes, you have to visit him. Pretending he’s Styxx has helped me immensely in dealing with the royal prick. Spend an hour with Acheron on his knees and the next time you see Styxx, you’ll have a whole new perspective.”
They laughed.
I felt the blood drain from my face as Father’s and Styxx’s turned red with fury.
“You should have been at our banquet last night,” the first man said. “We dressed him in royal robes and passed him around like a bitch in heat.”
I felt suddenly sick.
Father charged into the group, calling for his guards to arrest them for defaming Styxx in such a way.
Styxx defamed.
Hysterical laughter welled up inside me as I doubled over in pain. Zeus forbid Styxx ever be insulted. It didn’t matter that it was Acheron who was being degraded and made to serve them.
Acheron never mattered.
At least not to anyone but me.
JUNE 23, 9527 BC
It was dawn when I left the palace alone. It was a foolish quest I was about, but I couldn’t stop myself. Today Acheron turned nineteen.
In my heart I knew no one had ever given him a present for the anniversary of his birth. I wondered if he even knew the exact day when he’d come into this world. And I thought about the celebration I had planned that our father had ruined by returning him to Atlantis.
I clutched his gift under my himation as I walked through the abandoned streets to the stew I had gone to before.
I knocked on the back door and asked for Catera. After a brief wait, she appeared with a frown.
“My lady? Why are you here?”
I smiled gently at her. “I wanted to see Acheron again. Just for a few minutes.”
Sadness darkened her eyes. “I wish I could help you, my lady, but he’s no longer here.”
Cold dread seized my heart. “What? Where did he go?”
“I know not where he was taken.”
“Taken?” I whispered the word cautiously, hoping she didn’t mean what I thought she did.
Unfortunately, she did. “He was arrested several months ago. The king’s guards came in early one afternoon. They broke through the front door and demanded to be shown the royal imposter. Acheron was pulled from his bed while he still slept and bound into chains, then they dragged him out of here and I haven’t heard anything since.”
My fingers numb, I felt my gift fall to the floor as I stood there too stunned to move.
My father had taken him?
Of course he had. I should have realized that myself. No doubt he’d sent his men the same day he’d overheard the senators talking. What kind of fool was I not to check on that?
But then I’d been too busy thinking about my impending doom with Apollo. Shame on me for not putting Acheron first. There was no telling what they had done to him.
My only comfort was the knowledge that father couldn’t kill him. Not without killing Styxx too.
Catera picked up my wrapped present and handed it back to me.
I thanked her out of habit and left.
Acheron had to be somewhere in the palace. No matter what it took, I was going to find him and get him out.
JUNE 23, 9527 BC
It was midday before I finally found Acheron’s whereabouts. I knew better than to ask my father for his location—that would only invite his anger toward me, and tell me nothing I didn’t already know, so I resorted to bribing the palace guards.
Even that was easier said than done since most of them knew nothing at all and those who did were too afraid of my father’s wrath to speak of it.
But at last, I had the answer. My brother had been taken to the lowest part of the palace, beneath the foundation where they kept the worst sort of criminals: rapists, murderers, traitors …
And one young prince whose father hated him for no reason other than he’d been born.
I didn’t want to go down there where you could hear the cries and moans of the damned, where you could smell their rotting flesh and torture. It was only the knowledge that Acheron was there that made me find the courage I needed to visit.
I was quite sure that if he’d been given a choice he wouldn’t have been there either.
I walked down the twisting corridors, pulling my cloak ever closer to me for warmth. It was so damp and cold here. Dark. Unforgiving. Not even my torch could banish the dankness.
As I passed the cells, those who could see the light called out for my mercy. However it wasn’t my mercy they needed to be free. It was my father’s.
Unfortunately, he had none to spare.
The captain of the guards led me to a small door at the very end of the corridor, but he refused to open it. I could hear the sound of water dripping from inside, but nothing else. There was a fetid stench permeating the air and choking me. I had no idea what caused it. Truly this was a frightening place.
“Just hand over the key to me. I swear no one will ever know.”
The guard’s face paled. “I cannot, Your Highness. His Majesty made it clear that anyone who opens this door will be sentenced to death. I have children to feed.”
I understood his fear and had no doubt whatsoever that my father would indeed kill him for the affront. The gods knew, he’d killed men for far less. So I thanked him and waited for him to leave me alone before I knelt on the cold, damp floor and opened the small trapdoor that had been designed to pass food from the hallway into the cell.
“Acheron?” I called. “Are you in there?”
I lay flat on the filthy floor to peer through the small opening, but could see nothing. Not a single bit of flesh or clothing or light.
Finally, I heard something rustle ever so slightly.
“Ryssa?” His voice was weak and scratchy, but it filled me with joy.
He was alive.
I reached my hand through the opening as an offering to him. “It is I, akribos.”
I felt his hand take mine. It shook ever so slightly. His fingers were thin, skeletal, his grip gentle.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said in that raspy tone. “No one is allowed to speak to me.”
I closed my eyes at his words and drew a ragged breath. I wanted to ask him if he were well, but I knew better. How could he be all right living in a small cell like an animal?
I tightened my grip on his hand. “How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know. There’s no way to judge day from night.”
“Have you no window?”
He laughed bitterly at that. “No, Ryssa. I have no window.”
I wanted to weep for him.
He released my hand. “You need to go, Princess. You don’t belong down here in this place.”
“Neither do you.” I tried to reach him, but felt nothing save the dirt floor. “Acheron?”
He didn’t answer.
“Acheron, please. I just need to hear the sound of your voice. I need to know that you’re all right.”
Silence answered me.
I lay there for a long time with my hand still in his cell, hoping he would retake it. He didn’t. While I waited, I kept talking to him even though he refused to speak to me. Not that I blamed him.
He had every right to be angry and sullen. I couldn’t imagine the horror of them dragging him through the streets to lock him in this place.
And for what?
Some imagined slight my father felt? Some need Styxx had to assuage his dignity? It disgusted me.
I didn’t leave until a servant brought his dinner. A bowl of thin soup and fetid water. I stared at it in horror.
Tonight Styxx would dine on his favorite foods and eat until he was full and content while nobles would gather to wish him well and dote upon his every whim. Father would heap presents upon him and shower him with love and good wishes.
And here Acheron would sit in a filthy cell. Alone. Hungry. In chains.
My eyes full of tears, I watched the servant close the door and leave us.
“Happy birthday, Acheron,” I breathed, knowing he couldn’t hear me.
OCTOBER 22, 9527 BC
For the last few months, I’d been preparing for my union with Apollo. During the morning hours before the palace began stirring with activity, I’d made it a point of visiting with Acheron at his cell. He seldom spoke, but every so often I would get a word or two out of him.
I cherished every one of them.
I only wished he’d participate more in our discussions. Sad to say that at times I was rather curt with him, even angry. I made such an effort, and risked much to see him and bring him tidbits of bread and sweets. The very least he could do was be semi-cordial to me.
But apparently, that was asking too much.
It was afternoon and I’d been meeting with Father, Styxx and the High Priest in Father’s study to discuss what I would have to wear for the ceremony that would bind me to Apollo.
Originally the council had wanted to offer me to the god completely naked. Luckily the priest had talked them out of it and now there was much debate over the right gown and jewelry.
As the scribe took notes, Styxx fell suddenly ill. Too weak to stand, he collapsed on the floor where he lay like a small child, trembling. Every heartbeat seemed to make him paler. Weaker.
Terrified, I watched as Father picked him up in his arms and carried him to his room. I followed them, scared of what might have possessed him. Though we fought much, I did in fact love my brother and the last thing I wanted was to see him hurt.
Father laid him on the bed and called for a physician. I moved forward, trying to help, but there was really nothing I could do. Styxx couldn’t even speak. He breathed as if his throat was parched and his lungs were damaged. He stared at me, his own eyes filled with terror at what was happening to him.
