"Estes keeps him under control."
With drugs. So Father had known about that part of it. It was all I could do to keep my anger from showing. And it made me wonder what else he knew about Acheron's treatment.
"Acheron belongs here, with us."
Father came to his feet. "You are a woman, Ryssa, and a young one at that. Your mind is best occupied with fashion and decorating. Planning your dress for a party. Acheron doesn't belong in this family. He never will. Now go find your mother and gossip. Styxx and I have important matters to discuss."
Like which of the serving maids Styxx would bed next . . . Matters so much more important than his eldest son's life.
I glared at him. "Matters more important than your own son?"
"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.