Acheron hung his head down and wrapped his arms around himself as if that could protect him from the brutality of a world that despised him.
When the guards entered the orchard and my father told them to take him back to Atlantis, Acheron followed them without a word or a fight. He was once again unassuming and opinionless. He no longer had a will of his own or even a voice. He was what he'd been.
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."
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?