One minute he was in her temple beside her, the next he was in his bed naked again. He realized too late that he hadn't really eaten anything. Damn. But at least it was dark outside. He'd missed most of the day. So long as his father hadn't sent guards to beat him no one would know of his visit to Olympus.
Sighing, Acheron draped one arm over his eyes. Maybe he could just sleep until Artemis came for him again.
But even as the thought occurred to him he knew this couldn't last. A whore didn't befriend a goddess. It was impossible. Sooner or later Artemis would be like everyone else.
Yet deep in his heart was a tiny splash of hope that maybe, just maybe, Artemis because of her godhood would be different.
"I would sell my soul to keep and protect you, Artie," he breathed, wondering if she could hear him. If only he were born of the gods too . . .
He shook his head at the harsh reality he knew all too well. "And if wishes were horses, I'd have been run over in childhood."
No, this was all they could ever have. All he could do was make sure that no one learned the truth. May the gods help him if anyone ever did.
January 12, 9528 BC
Acheron sat on the railing of his balcony, missing Artemis. She was off at a festival that was being held in her honor and she wanted to spy on the people there in person. She was odd that way and liked to see people worshiping her while she pretended to be mortal.
He found it strangely endearing and had to admit that these last few weeks had been the best of his life.
Artemis was the only person who'd ever allowed him to be himself. If he didn't like something, he could tell her and she'd promise not to let it happen again.
She never broke her word to him. That more than anything was a dream come true. And because they spent so much time together, and Acheron wasn't causing trouble or sneaking out through his guards, his father had left him alone. He couldn't remember a time in his life, except for the months with Ryssa, when he'd gone this long without being hit or beaten.
The reprieve was divine.
Suddenly the doors to his room were shoved open.
His gut tightened. Afraid it was his father coming for him, he gripped the stone beneath him.
It wasn't. Ryssa strode into the room with the brightest smile he'd ever seen on her face. "Good day, little brother."
"Good day," he greeted hesitantly in return, wondering at her mood and the fact that she'd left the doors behind her wide open. "Is something wrong?"
Maybe his father had finally died. It was the best he could hope for. Stopping just before him, she pulled a small purse out from behind her back and held it out toward him. "You're free."
His father must be dead!
Acheron swung his legs down. "What do you mean?"
"I've discovered one of the benefits to sleeping with Apollo. Father listens to me now. Your guards are gone and you'll have a monthly stipend to spend however you wish." She placed the purse in his hand. "I've also procured for you a reserved spot at the stadium for any and all plays. No one but you will be allowed to sit there. Ever."
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What are the conditions?"
Her smile faded so that she could grind her teeth in aggravation. "Typical comment of Father's. You're not allowed to shame him or the family. He wouldn't elaborate, but so long as you don't cavort with anyone I think you'll be fine."
Acheron scoffed at the mere idea. "I have no plans to cavort with anyone." At least not publicly. He'd grown tired of that long ago. He didn't like being a spectacle.
She leaned forward. "Would you like to go to a play with me?"
"What about Apollo?"
"He's off with his sister. I have most of the day to myself." She held her hand out to him. "What say you, little brother? Shall we celebrate your freedom?"
Acheron gave her a real smile—something he almost never did. "Thank you, Ryssa. You've no idea how much this means to me."
"I think I have an idea."
Acheron went to retrieve his cloak from under the mattress . . . and the shoes Artemis had given him. He held the shoes for a moment, missing the goddess even more than before. How he wished he could celebrate with her, but that would have to wait.
After dressing himself quickly, he followed Ryssa out of the room. In the hallway, he hesitated as he looked around the bright walls. With the exception of Ryssa's offering to Apollo, he'd never left his room through the doors without having to bribe his guards with sex.
The degree to which his life had changed hit him full force. No longer a slave. No longer a prisoner. He was free now.
Acheron lifted his head proudly with the knowledge that he had money and he hadn't had to screw anyone to get it. More than that, he had a friend and a lover who treated him like he mattered.
For the first time in his life, he felt like a human being and not a possession or an object. It was a damn good feeling and he didn't want it to end.