so that I could tell nothing about his features and yet something seemed oddly familiar about him.
It wasn't until the play ended and the man got up that I realized why he was familiar.
It was Acheron.
He pulled the cowl down lower, but I'd already glimpsed the beauty of his face and I knew Styxx would never deign to come to something as common as a midday play. Even if he had, he'd
I excused myself from my friends to go after him.
'Acheron?'
He hesitated an instant before he pulled the cowl lower and continued on his way.
Rushing to catch up, I pulled him to a stop.
He looked at me coldly. 'Are you going to tell him?'
'No,' I breathed, knowing the him he meant was our father. 'Why would I?'
He started away, but I stopped him again.
His expression was exasperated. 'What, Ryssa?'
'How did you come to be here? The guards-'
'I bribed them,' he said in a clipped tone.
'With what? You have no money.'
The look he gave me answered that question plainly. I was nauseated with the mere thought of what he'd used to get out of the palace.
He narrowed his eyes at me. 'Don't look so horrified, Ryssa. I've been bartered for much less than an afternoon of freedom. At least they're gentle with me.'
Tears stung my eyes. 'You can't keep doing this.'
'Why not? It's all anyone wants me for.'
'That's not true.'
'No?'
I watched as he angrily lowered his cowl. I could feel the ripple that went through everyone around us as people caught sight of him.
The sudden silence was deafening. It was tangible and there was no mistaking the attention that was immediately focused on him.
Solely him.
Women's heads came together as they giggled and tried to remain inconspicuous in their ogling. Men weren't so subtle. There was no denying the fact that every one of them stared at him with longing. With desire.
I was no more immune to his unnatural allure than they were, but mine was tempered by the fact that we were family.
'Do you really want to know why your father hates me?'
I shook my head. I knew the answer. Acheron had said it the day Father had banished him. Because he, too, was attracted to Acheron and he despised the boy for it.
Acheron pushed past me, out of the stadium. With every step he took, he was dogged by offers and invitations. Even once he'd replaced his cowl, people didn't stop calling out and pursuing him through the street.
I hurried after him.
'Don't be like that,' a man said as he trailed behind Acheron. 'I would make you a most beneficial mentor.'
'I have no need of a mentor,' Acheron said as he continued walking.
The man grabbed him roughly. 'What do you want?'
'I want to be left alone.'
The man lowered Acheron's cowl. 'Tell me your price. I'll pay anything to have you.'
That hollow, empty stare came into Acheron's eyes as he shoved the man away from him.
'What is this?'
My blood went cold as I recognized the hostile, demanding voice of my father. I'd been so intent on Acheron and the unknown man that I had failed to realize Father and his entourage were traveling past.
Now Father's full attention was riveted on Acheron whose face had turned to stone.
Father roughly snatched the cowl back over Acheron's head and shoved him toward his guards who were ordered to take him into custody. Acheron was escorted back to the palace where Father had him beaten for his disobedience.
I tried to mitigate the punishment, but Father wouldn't listen. They dragged Acheron into the courtyard outside my father's throne room that was reserved for punishment. The guards stripped Acheron bare and delivered sixty-five strokes to his back. I couldn't watch, but I heard every whistle of the whip as it traveled through the air and every lash that cut through his flesh.
Acheron would grunt and several times I heard him fall, only to have my father order the guards to make him stand again. Never once did he cry out.
When it was finally over, I turned to see Acheron leaning against the post, bleeding, his hands still securely tied. The guards threw a coarse blanket over him before his ropes were cut and he was dragged back to his room and locked inside.
All I could do was hold Acheron afterward. For once, he didn't turn me away. He lay with his head in my lap as he used to do when we were children. When he would beg me to tell him why his parents hated him so.
I waited for someone to come and tend his ravaged back.
No one did.
It was only later that I learned Father had forbidden it. So I sat with Acheron for hours, holding his head as he quietly wept from the pain.
But whether he cried from the throbbing wounds of his back or the deeper ache in his heart, I didn't know. Gods, how I wanted to take him back to that day in the orchard when it'd been just the three of us playing and laughing. Away to some place where he could be free and lackadaisical, where he'd be a normal boy of nineteen as he should have been.
When he finally fell to sleep, I continued to brush my hand through his golden hair as I stared at the ragged welts on his back. I couldn't imagine a pain so severe.
'I love you, Acheron,' I whispered, wishing my love was enough to spare him from this.
December 10, 9529 BC
After that day, I never spoke again of the fact I knew Acheron continued to slip out of the palace to go to plays. Many days I followed him just to make sure no one bothered him. That no one knew what it was he did.
He kept to the shadows, his identity and beauty carefully guarded. His head was always hung low, his gaze on the ground as he passed through the unsuspecting crowds.
Acheron risked much to go. We both knew it. I'd asked him once why he dared so much and he'd told me simply that it was all that comforted him.
He liked to watch the characters in the plays. Liked to pretend he was one of them. How could I fault him for that when so little brought joy to his life?
As my union with Apollo drew critically near, I spent more and more time in Acheron's chambers. He alone didn't treat the event as some magical moment that I should be anticipating with relish and enthusiasm.
He saw it for the horror it was.
I too was being whored. Only Father saw my whoredom as noble and wonderful.
'Will it hurt much when he takes me?' I asked Acheron as we sat on his balcony that overlooked the sea below.
I was on the ground while Acheron sat up on the banister as he always did. He balanced precariously over the edge of it which dropped down to the raging sea.
