"I am not thoughtless."
He gestured to the door behind her. "Just go. I don't like being around people. I'd rather be alone."
She frowned at him. "You are really, truly angry at me, aren't you?"
He actually rolled his eyes as if he were exasperated with her.
Shocked, Artemis gaped at him. "Human beings don't get angry at me."
"This one does. Now please leave."
She should and yet she couldn't make herself go. She was too compelled by this man who should be infuriating her and yet she wasn't really angry. A part of her was even tempted to apologize to him. But goddesses didn't do that to humans.
"Why did those people surround you like that?" she asked, wanting to understand him and his unwarranted hostility toward her.
"You're the goddess. You tell me."
"People don't normally do that to others of their kind without a reason. Were you perchance cursed?"
He laughed bitterly. "Obviously so."
"What did you do?"
"I was born. Apparently that's all the gods need to ruin someone." He snatched the shoes off his feet and held them out to her. "Take your shoes and go."
"I gave those to you."
"I don't want your gift."
"Why not?"
His gaze was on the floor, but there was no missing the fury and contempt. "Because you'll make me pay for it eventually and I'm tired of paying for things." He dropped the shoes and turned to walk out onto his balcony.
Ignoring the shoes, Artemis followed him. "We were having fun. I liked it until you angered me."
He dropped his gaze to the floor as all the anger evaporated from his face. "Forgive me, my lady. I didn't mean to offend you." He sank to his knees in front of her.
"What are you doing?"
"My will is yours, akra."
Artemis yanked his cloak off. He didn't flinch or move. He merely stayed there like a mindless supplicant. "Why are you behaving like this?"
He kept his gaze on the ground. "It's what you want, isn't it? A servant to entertain you?"
Yes, but she didn't want that from him. "I have servants. I thought we were friends."
"I don't know how to be a friend. I only know how to be a slave or a lover."
Artemis opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, the door behind her swung open. She made herself instantly invisible as she stepped back into the shadows.
Two guards came in.
The moment Acheron saw them, he rose to his feet and backed up on the balcony as they made their way toward him. His face went cold and stoic.
Without a word, they grabbed him roughly and pulled him to the hallway. Wondering about their intent, she followed them, making sure to keep herself hidden.
Acheron was taken to the throne room where she'd popped in on him three days ago. The guards forced him to his knees before the thrones that were occupied by an elder human and a young man who was identical in looks to Acheron. Only he didn't have Acheron's silver eyes and he lacked the same compelling nature. The one on the throne was the same as any human and she took an instant dislike to him.
"As per your instructions, he hasn't left his room, Sire," the guard on the left of Acheron said firmly. "We've made sure of it."
The king's blue eyes were piercing. "You weren't in the square earlier, teritos?"
Artemis's eyes widened at the word that meant slug.
Acheron gave the king a defiant glare. "Why would I have been in the square, Father?"
The king curled his lip. "Thirty-six lashes for his insolence, then return him to his room."
Acheron closed his eyes as the guards grabbed him by the hair and hauled him through a set of double doors that opened into a small courtyard. Scowling, she watched as they stripped him bare, then tied him to a post. His perfectly formed back was covered with dark bruises, red welts and cuts. No wonder he'd recoiled in pain when she'd touched him. It had to hurt fiercely.
Unable to detect her presence, the younger guard walked to her side and pulled a whip from the holder before he returned to Acheron.
Acheron stiffened and braced himself against the post as if he knew what would happen next.
The whip whistled through the air, then tore through his bruised back.
Gasping, Acheron gripped the post so tight that every muscle in his arms and legs was taut and outlined. It was as if he were trying to merge himself with the post . . .
Mesmerized by the sight, she watched as lash after lash rained down on his back. Never once did he cry out or beg for mercy. The most he would do was gasp or curse them and their parentage.
When it was over, the guards freed him. His face ashen, Acheron picked his chiton up from the ground where the guards had thrown it but didn't have time to dress before they dragged him back to his room and threw him inside. The doors rattled as the guards slammed them shut with an echoing clatter.