Acheron

'Can you get my guard to this room without being seen?' I asked her.

The maid nodded.

She left me and I waited in my corner too afraid to move.

When she returned with Boraxis, I finally found the courage to stand.

Boraxis frowned as he helped me to my feet. 'Are you all right, my lady?'

I nodded numbly. 'Where is Acheron?' I asked the maid.

She led me into his bedchamber.

Again I saw the bed that was still mussed and bloodied. Averting my gaze, I followed her to a door.

When she opened it, Acheron was inside, kneeling on a hard pad that had rough bumps on it so that it would bite into his knees, causing him pain. The inner room was so tiny, that I knew it had been built for no other purpose than to be a punishment for him. He was naked, his body bruised and bloodied. His wristbands had been joined together behind his back, but what captured my attention most was the bottoms of his feet.

They were blackened by bruises.

Now I understood the sound I'd heard. What better place to punish someone when you didn't want their body damaged? No one would see the bottoms of his feet.

As gently as we could, the overseer and I took him from the room. There was a strange strap buckled around his head. As the maid removed it, I realized it held a large barbed ball underneath his tongue. There was fresh blood leaking from the corners of his mouth.

I cringed as she pulled it away and he hissed in pain.

'Put me back,' he said between his clenched teeth as the maid freed his hands.

'No,' I told him. 'I'm getting you out of here.'

Still he kept his teeth firmly clenched. 'I'm forbidden to leave, my lady. Ever. Please, you must put me back. It's only worse when I fight them.'

My heart broke at his words. What had they done to him that he was too terrified to even attempt to leave?

He tried to return to his torture room, but I cut him off and forced him back.

'I won't let them hurt you anymore, Acheron. I swear it. I'm taking you home.'

He looked at me as if the word was alien to him. 'I have to stay here,' he insisted. 'It's not safe for me outside.'

I ignored him and turned toward the maid. 'Where are his clothes?'

'He doesn't have any, my lady. He doesn't need any for what they use him for.'

I winced at her words.

'So be it.' I wrapped him in my cloak and with Boraxis's help, we took him from the house even while Acheron protested every step of the way. My legs and hands were shaking in fear that we would be discovered any moment by Estes or one of his servants.

Luckily the maid knew every back way through the house and out to the street.

Somehow, we made it to a rented enclosed herio behind the house. Boraxis got up on top to ride with the driver while Acheron and I rode inside. Alone.

Together.

I didn't really breathe again until Estes's house had faded and we were outside the city walls, across the bridge and on the road that would eventually take us to the docks.

Acheron sat in the corner, looking outside through the small windows and saying nothing.

His eyes were dead. Lifeless. As if he'd seen one horror too many.

'Do you need a doctor?' I asked.

He shook his head no.

I wanted to soothe and comfort him, but wasn't sure if anything on this earth could do that.

We rode in complete silence until we reached a small village. The driver changed horses while we entered a small home to wait. I rented a room from an older woman so that we could wash and rest in peace.

Boraxis somehow found or bought Acheron clothes. They were somewhat small for him and rough in texture, but he didn't complain. He merely took them and dressed himself inside the rented room.

I noticed Acheron had a limp as he came out of the room to where I waited in the narrow hallway. My heart ached at the thought of his walking on his bruised feet and yet he still said no words of complaint.

'Come, Acheron, we should eat while we can.'

Panic flared in his eyes. It was instantly followed by a look of resignation.

'What's wrong?' I asked.

He didn't respond. He merely pulled the cowl of his cloak over his head as if to shield himself from the world. With his head held low and his arms wrapped around himself, he followed me to the small dining room below.

I headed for a table in the back, near the hearth.

'Who do I have to pay for the food?' Acheron asked quietly, his face completely shielded by his cowl.

I looked up at him with a frown. 'You have money?'

He looked as baffled by my question as I was by his.

'If he can't work, he can't eat. He hasn't earned his food this day.' My stomach shrank as I remembered what Estes had said. Tears choked me.

He thought I wanted him to…

'I will pay for our food, Acheron, with money.'

The relief on his face tugged even more at my heart.

I sat down. Acheron moved around the table and knelt on the floor to my right, just behind me.

I scowled at him over my shoulder. 'What are you doing?'

'Forgive me, my lady. I meant no offense to you.' He scooted back on his knees several more inches.

Completely flabbergasted, I turned around to stare at him. 'Why are you on the floor?'

He looked immediately disappointed. 'I shall wait for you in the room.'

He moved to leave.

'Wait,' I said, taking his arm. 'Aren't you hungry? I was told you hadn't eaten.'

'I am hungry,' he said simply from between his clenched teeth.

'Then sit.'

Again he knelt on the floor.

What was he doing? 'Acheron, why are you on the floor and not sitting at the table with me?'

His look was empty, unassuming. 'Whores don't sit at tables with decent people.'

His voice was steady as if he were merely repeating something that had been said so often it no longer had any meaning to him.

But the words cut through me.

'You're not a whore, Acheron.'

He didn't argue verbally, but I could see the denial in his pale, swirling eyes.

I reached out to touch his face. He stiffened ever so slightly.

I dropped my hand. 'Come,' I said softly. 'Sit at the table with me.'

He did as I told him, but looked terribly uncomfortable, as if he feared someone would wrench him up by his hair at any moment. Over and over, he pulled at the cowl as if to protect himself.

It was then I realized the second way to punish someone when you didn't want any visible marks. The head. How many times had they wrenched his hair?

A servant came to take our orders.

'What would you like, Acheron?'

'My will is your will, Idika.'

Idika. An Atlantean word that a slave used for his owner.

'Have you no preference?'

He shook his head.

I ordered our food and watched him. He kept his gaze on the floor, his arms locked around his body.

When he moved to cough, I caught sight of something strange in his mouth.

'What is that?' I asked.