"Are you all right?" I asked in concern.
"Just a little dizzy from the voices. But they're not so loud now." He draped one arm over my shoulders and together we made our way back to his room.
I had Petra draw him a hot bath while I wrapped a towel around him. He was still pale, his features pinched.
Maia came running in with two glasses of warmed milk. "I was worried about you, Acheron," she admonished.
"I'm sorry, bit. I didn't mean to concern you."
"Are you feeling better?"
He nodded.
"Maia," Petra said from the doorway. "Come away so that Acheron may bathe in peace."
"I put some sugar in the milk," Maia confided before she obeyed her mother. "Hope you feel better soon."
Charmed by her actions, I followed her.
"Ryssa?"
I paused at the door to look back at Acheron who was still wrapped in the towel. "Yes?"
"Thank you for being worried about me and for staying with me today. Now get yourself dried off before you catch a chill."
"Yes, sir," I said with a smile.
I left and closed the door before I made my way to my own room. The doors were still open so I shut them. As I did so, the strangest thing happened.
I heard a vague whisper on the wind.
"Apostolos."
Frowning, I looked about, but couldn't see anyone. Where on earth had the voice come from? More than that, I didn't know anyone named Apostolos.
I shook my head to clear it. "Now I'm hearing Acheron's voices."
It was strange to be sure.
But even as I dismissed it, there was a part of me that wondered about it. Most of all, I wondered if it might be yet another threat to my brother.
Only time would tell.
June 23, 9530 BC
At last word came. The Queen of Kiza had agreed to take Acheron in. The messenger had arrived yesterday with word that Boraxis was on his way here to escort Acheron to safety. He should arrive in another three days.
Elated, I planned to tell Acheron tonight during the surprise celebration for the anniversary of his birth.
My brother was going to be safe. Forever.
Happily we were out in the orchard today. In truth, we'd spent the entire morning there, laughing and sampling the gardener's prized fruit. The orchard was so beautiful. Peaceful. The leaves were a bright, breathtaking green that was punctuated by the golden apples that burst with sweet, succulent taste. Even the old, stone walls were tranquil, draped with flowering vines.
No wonder Acheron preferred it to any other place at the palace. The summer air was fresh and warm and I could have spent hours watching the way Acheron enjoyed the simplest of things such as the sensation of sunlight on his skin. Grass beneath his bare feet.
Of course, his life had held far too little of either one. How I wish I could have given him another life. A better one. The life he deserved where no one had ever hurt him for things he couldn't help. Where people could see in him all the beauty that I saw and understand what a truly gentle soul he possessed.
As I watched him inhale the scent of an apple before he added it to the bunch he'd picked, I was struck by how much he'd changed these last few months.
For once, he reminded me of a youthful seventeen-year-old boy and not a jaded, used-up old man. He'd learned to trust me. To trust in the fact that here he was safe and secure. That no one feared him or was out to seduce him. He could be himself without being obsequious or afraid of being grabbed or hurt. And I prayed he found the same peace in Kiza.
Oh, the pain I felt whenever I thought about his life in Atlantis. How could our uncle have treated him that way? Even now I could see Acheron held in chains. See the shallow emptiness that had been there in his eyes the first time he'd looked at me when he had no idea who I was.
Who he was.
I might have failed him earlier, but I vowed I would not fail him again. Here, he knew peace and happiness. I would try my best to always keep him far away from the world that couldn't understand or abide him.
While he picked the apples, he reminded me of a squirrel as he jumped from tree to tree, gathering his treasure. He was such a handsome boy. In my heart I knew that he and Styxx were twins, and yet as I watched him, I was struck by their differences.
Acheron moved much more gracefully. Fluidly. He was leaner, his hair a tad more golden, his muscles more defined. His skin softer.
And those eyes . . .
They were beguiling and terrifying.
After he was done, he brought his treasure to me and laid it out in a circle so that I could choose which apples I wanted first. He was always considerate that way. Thinking of others before himself.
"Do you think Father will come and visit soon?" he asked as he lay on his side, watching me eat my apple.
I could sense that he was probing me to see if I were lying. His silvery, swirling eyes were so disturbing whenever he held that gimlet stare. No wonder Uncle beat him for looking at people. It was disconcerting and even frightening to be under such bold scrutiny.