His ears clear of his pounding blood and Styxx's curses, he finally heard his sister's sobs as she begged their father for a mercy the king had no intention of giving.
One guard clenched his fist deep in Acheron's hair, then shoved him out of the room toward the courtyard that he knew intimately. They should just move his bed out here and save them all the effort.
Acheron ground his teeth as his hands were tied and his clothes stripped from his body. He cursed the gods after the first lash cut through the skin on his back. Damn them for this. It was bad enough they'd abandoned him, but by condemning him to have the ability to heal most wounds, it made his punishments all the worse. Instead of scar tissue forming a barrier for his abuse, new skin grew each time, which meant they were striking virgin flesh with every beating.
And it hurt . . .
He lost track of the lashes as he tried to focus on anything else. His sweat mixed with the blood pouring from the wounds on his face making them burn all the worse. Still they beat him.
"Enough."
Acheron frowned through the haze of pain as he recognized Styxx's voice. His breathing ragged, he couldn't fathom why Styxx would stop the punishment he'd called for.
Not until his brother came around so that they were eye to eye. The hatred in Styxx's gaze was piercing. "Leave us," he ordered the guards.
Acheron heard the door close. He opened his mouth to taunt his brother but before he could, Styxx slammed an iron bar across his ribs with enough force to lift him off his feet. All the breath rushed out of his lungs.
"You think you're so fucking clever," he sneered. "Let's see how clever you are now."
Styxx vanished out of his sight. He came back a moment later with a gleaming red poker. Panic set in. Acheron fought his restraints with every ounce of strength he had. But he was weakened by the beating and held down completely.
With a gleam of sadistic satisfaction, Styxx laid the poker across Acheron's face. Screaming, Acheron tried to move away, but all he could do was smell the burning of his flesh. Feel the deep, penetrating pain that washed over him.
Smiling, Styxx jerked it away and walked behind him again.
Hanging limply, Acheron could do nothing but cry from the agony of his face that continued to burn. When Styxx returned, he carried a fresh poker.
"Please, m-m-mercy," he begged. "Please don't . . . brother."
"We are not brothers, you bastard!" Styxx shouted before he laid the poker across Acheron's groin.
Acheron screamed out. Tears fell as he prayed for death to come and stop this torture.
"Where's your laughter now?" Styxx asked, tossing the poker aside. "Don't you ever mock me again, you fucking whore."
Acheron felt something cold and sharp pierce his side. Looking down, he saw the dagger in Styxx's hand that his brother had buried to the hilt. He tasted more blood in his mouth as he choked on it and the pain that seared him.
"Don't worry," Styxx said, jerking the dagger free. "You'll live." He brought the blade down across Acheron's unburned cheek, laying it open to the bone.
Styxx cut him down, then walked off without even a backward glance.
Acheron lay on the ground, his head swimming as unimaginable pain ripped through him. "Please gods," he whispered desperately. "Please let me die."
He expelled one deep breath and surrendered himself to the darkness.
Artemis was trying to be patient as she watched the offerings the humans brought to her altar. But they didn't interest her.
She hadn't seen Acheron in two days and this was the celebration of his birth—something she wouldn't have known had Apollo not told her about the party tonight. She didn't know why Acheron had failed to mention it, but then he was odd that way.
Apollo wasn't going to the party, but his pet was.
Which meant Artemis would be free to visit Acheron later.
Yet dutifully, she'd been at her temple all day long. The sun had set almost an hour ago and as the day turned to night, she was restless for it to end.
An old man came forward with a goat.
Oh, this was no use. What was she going to do with a goat? Snapping her fingers, she granted his wish even before she heard it.
She picked up the ring that she'd made for Acheron and left them where they were to keep making offerings she had no interest in. Unlike these other mewling, pathetic humans, her Acheron would please her.
Even when he didn't please her, he still did.
Smiling, she materialized on his balcony, expecting him to be at his usual perch.
It was empty. Frowning, she looked over the edge to see the nobles and dignitaries gathered for the festivities. Surely Acheron wasn't there. He didn't like such events.
Artemis stepped through the doors without opening them. Her frown melted as she saw Acheron already abed. Good. She could join him there.
But as she approached, she slowed her gait. His breathing was shallow and ragged. He lay with his back to her and as she drew closer, she saw the pink stains marring his sheets.
Blood. Acheron's blood.