Every gesture was beautiful. Precise.

And it was designed to seduce.

He moved like a whore.

Closing my eyes, I wanted to scream at the injustice of this. He was firstborn. He was the one who should be heir to the throne and here he was . . .

How could they have done this to him?

And why?

Because his eyes were different? Because those eyes made people uncomfortable?

There was nothing threatening about this boy. He wasn't like Styxx, who'd been known to have people locked up and beaten just because they offended him. One poor peasant had been beaten because he'd come to the palace without shoes on his feet. Shoes he couldn't afford.

Acheron didn't play pranks on me, or laugh at others. He didn't judge anyone or make them feel small.

Rather, he merely sat there silently eating.

A family came in and sat at the table beside us. Acheron paused as he noticed the boy and girl. The boy was a few years younger than he and the girl probably his age.

By the look on his face, I could tell he hadn't seen a family sit down together before. He studied them curiously.

"May I speak, my lady?"

"Of course."

"Do you and Styxx sit down and eat with your parents like that?"

"They are your parents too."

He returned to his food without commenting.

"Yes," I said. "We sometimes dine with them like that." But Acheron never had. Even when he'd been at home with us, he'd been banned from the family table.

After that, he didn't speak. Nor did he look at the family. He merely ate with those impeccable manners of his.

I choked down a few bites, but found I wasn't very hungry after all.

I took us back to our quarters to wait for the driver to finish his rest and feeding the horses. It was nearing dusk and I wasn't sure if we would continue to travel through the evening or not.

I sat down on the small chair and closed my eyes to rest. It had been a long day. I'd only arrived in Atlantis that morning and hadn't anticipated so quick a return. Not to mention the undue stress of stealing my brother away from my uncle. At the moment, all I wanted was to sleep.

I felt Acheron in front of me.

Opening my eyes, I saw him naked again save for his bands.

I frowned at him. "What are you doing?"

"I owe you for my food and clothes, my lady." He knelt down at my feet and lifted the hem of my himation.

I bolted upright and grabbed his hand. "You don't touch family like that, Acheron. It's wrong."

Confusion creased his brow.

And then I knew the most horrid of truths. "Estes . . . does he . . . Do you . . ." I couldn't bring myself to say the words.

"I pay him every night for being kind enough to shelter me."

I'd never wanted to cry so much in my life and yet I found my eyes strangely dry-even as anger and disgust welled inside me over what had been done to my brother. Oh, if I could only lay hands to my uncle . . . "Put your clothes on, Acheron. I have no need of you to pay me for anything."

He left me and did as I asked.

For the rest of the evening, I watched him while he sat silently in the corner without moving even a single muscle. Obviously he'd been trained to do that, too. I walked my mind through the horrors of the day's revelations.

Through the horror that must have been his life.

My poor Acheron.

I told him how glad father would be to welcome him home. How happy mother would be to see him again.

I told him stories of our palace and of how grand his room would be.

He listened silently while his eyes told me he didn't believe a single word I spoke.

Whores don't live in palaces.

I could hear his thoughts plainly.

And honestly, I was beginning to doubt those words myself.

November 4, 9532 BC

Acheron remained so silent for the rest of our journey to the docks that I began to worry. He didn't look well. In fact, he was prone to break into a sweat and shake for no apparent reason. There was an awful ashen cast to his skin.

Whenever I asked if something was the matter, he would only say that it sometimes happened to him.

As we were around more people, he became more nervous.

"Estes won't find you," I told him, hoping to alleviate his fear.

It didn't work. If anything, he grew more apprehensive.

Boraxis returned with our tokens for the journey across the Aegean that would take us home to Didymos. I knew I wouldn't truly stop being scared until the boat sailed.

At any moment, I was afraid my uncle would find us and take Acheron back.

It was just after midday that they allowed us to board the ship. Boraxis led the way with me in the middle and Acheron following.

The first mate took the tokens from Boraxis and gave him directions for our quarters, but as we walked past, he stopped Acheron.

"Lower your cowl."

I saw the panic in Acheron's eyes before he complied. As soon as the material was lowered, I felt a strange almost wave-like sensation sweep through those who were near us. All eyes turned toward my brother.

The first mate shook his head and tsked at me. "My lady, we don't allow slaves to travel on the main decks."

I gave him a withering stare. "He's not a slave."

The first mate actually laughed at that. He reached to the band around Acheron's throat and pulled at his pendant that held the symbol of a fiery sun.

Acheron didn't move or speak. He merely kept his gaze lowered.

The first mate looked back at me. "I can appreciate your wanting to keep your tsoulus with you, my lady, but he'll have to travel below deck with the other slaves."

It'd never occurred to me to have Acheron's bands removed. In Greece, our slaves wore no gold whatsoever, so it hadn't dawned on me that his would betray him.

"Nexus," the first mate called to another sailor. "Escort this one below deck."

Acheron's panicked gaze held mine. "Please, Idika, don't send me there. Alone. You can't."

"I'll pay more," I told the sailor.

"I'm sorry, my lady. It's our strictest policy. The other passengers would be extremely upset if we broke the rules for you."

I felt horrible for him. "It'll be all right, Acheron. It's only a few days and we'll be home."

My words only appeared to scare him more. But he said nothing else as Nexus came forward to lead him away from me.

Acheron replaced his cowl and glanced about nervously.

"He'll be fine, Your Highness," Boraxis assured me. "His quarters won't be refined, but they'll be serviceable and clean."

And Boraxis would know. He had once been a slave before my father freed him.

"Thank you, Boraxis."

My heart heavy, I went to my quarters and wondered what Acheron would do for the next four days.

November 8, 9532 BC

I waited on the deck with bated breath for Acheron's return. Over the last four days I'd tried my best to see him, but no one would allow it. Apparently the regular passengers weren't allowed below decks anymore than the slaves were allowed above.

Almost everyone was gone now, even the sailors, while Boraxis and I waited.

At last, I saw Acheron appear. As he had on the day they'd taken him below, he had his cowl pulled low, his head bent down.

Not even a single glimpse of his body or face could be seen.

"There you are!" I said in joy at seeing him again.

He said nothing in return.

When I tried to embrace him, he shrugged me away. When I tried to meet his gaze, he moved past me.

His actions irritated me. Was this the thanks I received for saving him from the madness of my uncle's home? Surely as bare as the slaves' quarters had been, they were preferable to being mauled by others.

"Don't be so petulant, Acheron. I had no choice."

Still he spoke no words.

I wanted to shake him. This was the first time his behavior reminded me of Styxx. "What is wrong with you? Answer me!"

"I want to go home."

I was completely flabbergasted by his whispered request that was tinged with anger.

"Are you mad? Why would you ever want to return to Atlantis?"

He didn't respond.

Sighing in frustration, I led him from the deck. Once we were on the docks, Boraxis went to procure us a closed herio for the journey home.

Still Acheron remained silent. He didn't look around or show any interest at all in the fact that he was safe from Estes's clutches.

"We're in Greece now. Not too far from home."

When he made no response, I sighed and was grateful to see a herio drawing near us. Maybe that would cheer his malaise.

As it stopped before us, a nobleman hailed me.

"My lord?" I asked as he drew near. He wasn't much older than I. His clothes and bearing said that he was extremely well to do, though I didn't recognize him as an aristocrat or dignitary.

He barely looked at me. It was Acheron who held his attention, Acheron who shrank away from the man. "Is he yours, my lady?"

I hesitated at answering that. "Why do you wish to know?"

"I want to buy him. Name your price and I'll pay it."

Anger cut through me. "He's not for sale."

The man finally met my gaze. I swear I saw madness in his blue eyes. "I'll pay anything you wish for him."

Boraxis rejoined us and frowned a stern warning at the man. "Get in the herio, Acheron."

Acheron didn't speak as he quickly climbed inside.

When I tried to join him, the man actually stopped me. "Please, my lady. I have to have him. I'll give you anything you wish."

Boraxis forced the man aside.

I climbed into the herio all the while the man continued to try to bribe me.

"I can't believe this," I mumbled. "Does this happen often?"

"Yes." Acheron's response was barely more than a whisper.

Boraxis secured our door. "I shall ride with the driver, my lady." He handed me a wineskin and what felt like bread wrapped in cloth. "If you need anything, call for me."

"Thank you, Boraxis."

He nodded, then climbed up on the seat outside.

Having eaten a large breakfast on the ship, I wasn't hungry. I could feel Acheron's stare, but he still kept himself covered by his cloak. "Would you care for a bite?" I asked, handing the food to Acheron.

As the herio started forward, he tore into the cloth like a starved animal. It wasn't until he moved to eat that I finally saw a glimpse of his forearm.

There was blood encrusted around the gold band on his wrist. But he didn't seem to notice as he shoved chunks of bread into his mouth.

"Are you all right, Acheron?"

He only continued to eat ravenously.

When the bread was gone, he attacked the wineskin with the same fervor. It was several minutes before he lowered the skin and let out what sounded like a relieved breath.

I reached for his injured arm.

He didn't move as I sat forward and pulled the band back to uncover a nasty wound there. As I looked at his bloodied wrist, I noticed more bruises on his forearm.

And then I saw his face.

I gasped in alarm. Before I could think of what I was doing, I jerked the cowl down. His skin was still that dull, ashen gray, his hair lank and matted.

But it was his face that held me transfixed. Dark purple circles ran underneath both eyes as if he hadn't slept at all. His lips were chapped, raw and bleeding. Both of his cheeks were bruised as if someone had slapped him repeatedly. One eye was red from broken blood vessels.

His clothes were torn and dirty.

"What happened to you?"

He gave me a true, insolent glare that cut through me. "I'm a trained tsoulus, Idika, that you left unprotected for four days. What do you think they did to me?"

Horrified, I called for Boraxis as Acheron replaced his cowl.

The herio stopped immediately. Boraxis came down and opened the door. "Yes, Highness?"

"Take me back to the ship."

"May I ask why, Highness?"

"They . . . they . . ." I couldn't even bring myself to say it. "I want everyone who touched Acheron to be put into chains!"

Boraxis frowned.

I pulled the cowl down again and showed Boraxis Acheron's battered face. "Look what they did to him."

Acheron met Boraxis's gaze and something strange passed between them.

"Highness," Boraxis said in a low, calm tone, "I'll take you back if you wish it, but only Acheron's rightful owner can demand restitution for his damage."

I ground my teeth at him. "He is not a slave."

"He's marked as a slave, Highness. That's all that matters."

"So that gives them the right to abuse him?"

"And again, Highness, I repeat, only his rightful owner can demand restitution. All the law will give you for what they did is financial compensation for his use. No free man will be punished for using a slave."

"A slave can be beaten for hurting him like this! And I want it so."

"Highness, a slave wouldn't have dared touch him like that."

I gulped. "What are you saying?"

Boraxis looked past me to Acheron. "Acheron? Who hurt you?"

"The sailors, and when they were done with me, they sold me to noblemen they brought below the decks."

Boraxis returned his gaze to mine. "You are a noblewoman and I your servant. No one will care what we think any more than they will care what was done to a slave."

Then an awful fear went through me. "Did you know they'd do this to him?"

"No, Highness. I assumed he'd be left alone with the other slaves. Had I any inkling they would have harmed him, I would have warned you."

I believed him.

Even so, I'd never been so angry in all my life. If we were in my father's kingdom . . .

But we weren't. Boraxis was right. Here, outside my father's realm, I had no voice.

Sick over the matter, I nodded. "Find us someplace where we can have his bands removed, Boraxis."

"You can't remove them," Acheron said in a panicked voice. "It is a death sentence to any tsoulus for anyone other than their idikos to remove their bands."

"You're not a slave and I will not have you marked as one!"

He shrank away from me.

Sighing, I looked back at Boraxis. "Acheron needs more food and someplace safe to rest and bathe. He could also use fresh clothes."

"I'll ask the driver for such a place, Highness."

I nodded at him. He left us and climbed back up. It was a few seconds later that we started forward again.

"No one is going to hurt you anymore, Acheron."

Tears gathered in his eyes before he pulled the cowl back up to shield his face from me.

"Speak to me, little brother. Tell me what thoughts you have."

"My will is your will, Idika."

"Stop calling me that! I am Ryssa. I'm not your owner."

And again he had no response to that.

Aggravated, I left him to himself while we traveled for the next hour until Boraxis found us a large hostel where I could rent Acheron a room so that he could bathe and rest.

A short time later, Boraxis brought a smith to the room.

I knocked on Acheron's door, then pushed it open to find him lying naked on his bed. I motioned Boraxis and the smith to stay in the hall while I entered.

"Acheron," I said softly, reaching to shake him awake.

I paused as I saw the myriad of scrapes and bruises that marred his perfect skin. There were places where entire handprints were still visible from his abuse. Gods, the horror he must have faced alone in the belly of the ship.

My stomach churned at the sight of my failure to protect him. How could I be so worthless? I pulled a blanket over him before I shook him very gently and promised myself that he wouldn't be hurt like this again.

He came awake as if terrified.

"All's well," I assured him.

He looked about as if not quite sure he should believe me.

"Boraxis?" I called.

He entered with the smith behind him. As soon as Acheron saw the tools in the smith's hands, he panicked and tried to run.

"Stop him."

Boraxis did. He grabbed him and held Acheron down on the floor while the smith brought a large pair of clips forward to snip through the bands.

Acheron screamed and fought as if we were cutting off his limbs.

"Please, stop!" he begged hoarsely. "Please!"

His pleas tore through me, but this was what must be done. I didn't want anyone else to mistake him for a slave. "It's all right, Acheron. You're free."

Still he fought until the last band had been removed. Then he lay without moving, his eyes dazed.

"Keep the gold," I told the smith, who then thanked me and left.

I looked at Boraxis, stunned by Acheron's actions. "Why would he not want them removed?"

"You took his registration shield. If a slaver finds him now, he doesn't have to be returned to his owner. Anyone can claim him."

I growled at words I didn't want to hear. "He's not a slave."

"He's branded as such on his hand, Princess. If anyone sees that mark, they'll know he's not freeborn."

I frowned. "What brand?"

Boraxis held Acheron's right hand up to show me a jagged brand in his palm that looked like an X through a pyramid. How odd that I hadn't noticed it before. But it made no difference to me.

"No one will know."

"The smith knows, Highness. For that reason, I would suggest we leave here as quickly as possible and reach your father's kingdom before we're stopped again."

My jaw slackened. "You're not serious?"

By his face, I could tell that he was. "Please, Highness. Listen to me in this. The last thing I want is to see either one of you harmed. We need to leave."

"Why didn't you tell me about the brand before the smith removed his bands?"

"Highness, I'm a freed slave. It's not in my nature to question my betters. I love and serve you and should the gods decree, I'd give my life for yours."

He was right. I'd seen my father and Styxx beat many a servant for hesitating after they'd given the servant an order.

Nodding, I went to Acheron who still hadn't moved. "Come, Acheron, we must hurry."

He looked at me then with his eyes filled with despair. "Idikos will punish me harshly for this. Have you any idea what you've done?"

"Estes is not going to hurt you ever again. I'm your sister and my word to you, you are safe."

He shook his head in denial. "He will find me. He always does."

"How many times have you escaped?"

"Enough to know it's not worth it."

"This time, it will be." At least that's what I was hoping. And by all the gods, I intended to make it so. No one deserved to live in fear. No one deserved to be mocked and abused. Especially not a boy who had been born a prince.

But even as I promised myself I'd protect him, a part of me wondered if I could.

Like Acheron and Boraxis, I, too, was prisoner to my station. And even against my will, my wings were often clipped.

November 15, 9532 BC

It had been a week since we'd left Atlantis. A week I'd traveled with my brother who didn't know laughter or smiles. Or even how to form an opinion of his own. Whenever I asked, his response was always the same. "Your will is my will, Idika."

It was enough to make me scream.

The last part of our trip was again by ship, but this time we purchased a private vessel to take us to the island where our father ruled as king. I didn't want to take any more chances with Acheron or his safety. And the longer I was with him, the more I understood. He held an unnatural sexual magnetism.

Everyone who saw him wanted to touch him. To possess him. It was why he kept himself completely covered whenever we ventured into public. Why he cringed whenever someone neared him. Not even I was fully immune to whatever that unholy draw was and it sickened me that I could feel that way toward my own brother. The worst part was, I could tell when he knew my thoughts. He would tense as if bracing himself for my attack.

But I would never hurt him or touch him in such a manner. Still, he didn't trust me and honestly I couldn't blame him for it given his experiences.

He said Estes protected him. I knew the truth. There was no protection in what our uncle did, he only controlled how many people attacked Acheron at once.

May the gods punish Estes for it.

How could I have been so blind to such a monster all these years?

How could my father ever allow this? I preferred to think he didn't know anything about it. It was the only way I could live. And I hoped with every part of myself that I never laid eyes on my uncle again.

It was our fifth day into the journey that Boraxis finally explained to me why Acheron was so pale and given to attacks of extreme sweating and vomiting.

It was the drugs Estes had used to control him. The orange scent I'd smelled was from the aphrodisiac they used to make him crave sex and the other was an inhaled substance to make him more pliant and accepting of what was done to him.

Acheron was so weak now that it frightened me. We needed to find a physician who could help. Boraxis kept telling me the best thing would be to buy our own supply of the drugs and keep him on them. But I couldn't do that to my own brother. He needed to live his life free of such things.

Surely he wouldn't continue to be ill from them. They had to pass out of his system eventually. Yet every day he seemed to grow weaker and weaker.

And now at last, we were home.

The palace loomed before us as we approached in a covered chariot. I didn't dare travel with Acheron in the open where any stray breeze might blow his cowl back and expose him. People could become quite violent at the sight of him and we'd already had to have Boraxis get rough with several of the more persistent.

I swallowed as we entered the palace gates and drew near the entrance. After all my bravado of telling Acheron how welcomed he would be by his family, I felt my courage wavering.

What if he was right? What if Father didn't care? For all I knew, Father was aware of what Estes was doing to him. He might even condone it. The very thought made me ill, but it was something I had to prepare myself for. It was possible.

Acheron had been hurt so much already that I was afraid of hurting him anymore. Trust was a fragile thing and he was only now beginning to trust me. I didn't want anything to damage that.

Or him.

So I took him through the side entrance and led him to my chambers where no one would disturb him.

"I'm going to Father. You wait here and I'll be back very soon."

Acheron didn't speak. He was shaking uncontrollably again. Instead, he nodded before he went to a corner and sat down on the floor with his back against the wall. He was so well covered that he looked like a sack of grain on the floor.

I picked up a clay urn from beside my hearth and placed it beside him. "Should you get sick."

Again, he didn't respond in any way.

Saddened by that, I turned to Boraxis. "Stay with him and make sure no one disturbs him."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Hoping for the best, I left them in my chambers and went to speak to Father alone.

I found him in the outer courtyard with Styxx. The two of them were reclining on cushioned chairs while they ate a light repast of honey and bread as Father instructed Styxx on matters of state. They were surrounded by servants who were attending their every need. How lush a sight they made.

Styxx's blond hair gleamed in the sunlight. His skin glistened with vitality. There was no grayish cast to it from his being forced to take drugs so that others could abuse him. Even from my distance, I could see his arrogance as he ordered everyone around.

I thought of Acheron and wanted to scream at the injustice.

"Hey, it's lamb-head," Styxx said as he saw me. The little ogre had always mocked my curly blond hair. "Where have you been?"

"Away," I told him. The troll didn't need to know my business. "Father, might I have a word alone with you?"

He cast a smug glance toward Styxx. "Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of your brother. One day Styxx will be your king, and you will be answerable to him."

The thought made my blood run cold.

"That's right," Styxx said snidely. "That means you have to kiss my feet just like everyone else."

Father laughed at him. "You're such a scamp."

I bit my lip to keep my silence. How could he not see what a spoiled, obnoxious little troll Styxx was? But then Father had always been blind to Styxx's apish ways.

"So why are you here, kitten?" Father asked. "Do you wish a new trinket or clothes?" The man had always indulged me. At least on anything that didn't involve Acheron.

"No. I want to bring Acheron home."

Father sputtered at my request. "Now see here, what has gotten into your head? I've told you repeatedly how I feel. That monster doesn't belong here."

Styxx curled his lips. "Why would you want him here? He's a danger to all of us."

"A danger how?" But then this was so familiar an argument, I could answer with their excuses before they did.

My father curled his lip. "You don't know what a demigod is capable of. He could kill your brother while he sleeps. Kill me. Kill all of us."

How could he say that? Acheron had never once made any attack on me. He didn't even raise his voice. "Why do you not fear for Estes?"

"Estes keeps him under control."

With drugs. So Father had known about that part of it. It was all I could do to keep my anger from showing. And it made me wonder what else he knew about Acheron's treatment.

"Acheron belongs here, with us."

Father came to his feet. "You are a woman, Ryssa, and a young one at that. Your mind is best occupied with fashion and decorating. Planning your dress for a party. Acheron doesn't belong in this family. He never will. Now go find your mother and gossip. Styxx and I have important matters to discuss."

Like which of the serving maids Styxx would bed next . . . Matters so much more important than his eldest son's life.

I glared at him. "Matters more important than your own son?"

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