The Dark-Hunters (535 page)

However, it made him appreciate how much space he needed in order to move. The rafters were so low, he’d almost given himself a concussion two seconds after he’d entered.

“Are you all right, Lord Acheron?” Merus asked.

Acheron nodded without moving his hand away from his forehead that throbbed from its collision with the wood.

“What happened?” Eleni asked in a panicked tone.

“As I said, Lord Acheron is extremely tall. He banged his head on the ceiling.”

Eleni’s eyes widened. She approached him with her hand waving in front of her.

Acheron took her hand in his and put it on his shoulder so that she could tell just how tall he was.

“Oh, my gracious,” she breathed. “You are huge. Like one of the gods.”

Yet another thing that made him a freak to normal people—it’d also made Estes and Catera a lot of money since those who were shorter liked the feeling of power they had over someone his size.

Moving with a grace that was unfathomable to him, Eleni crossed the floor as if she could see every item in it and pulled out a chair for him. “Best you sit, my lord. I can only imagine how stifling our tiny home must seem to you.”

“Not at all,” he said honestly. Though he was fearful of colliding with more objects, he rather liked her peaceful home.

“Fetch us some milk, Merus.”

The boy ran out the door.

Acheron watched as she went to her stove and stoked the fire there effortlessly. He was amazed at how she knew where everything was. There were no missteps or burns.

“My lord?” she asked as she pulled a knife from its holder. “May I ask you a prying question?”

“If you wish.”

“Why are you so sad?”

He started to deny it, but why? She didn’t know him and he didn’t know her. Honestly, he was stunned that she could pick up on his mood without any visual clues. “How can you tell?”

“The sound of your voice when you speak. I hear the weight of sadness in it and a strong lilt of Atlantean.”

She was unerringly astute as she cut, then placed bread on a stone trencher to warm. “Is it the loss of a person who saddens you?”

His gut knotted at the thought of Artemis. “A friend.”

“Then I weep with you,” she said, her tone comforting. “I’ve lost many friends over the years, and my children. Loss is always hard. But I have Merus and I take so much pride in his growth. He’s such a fine boy. You’ve no idea how much a son means to his parents. I’m sure yours must smile every time they look upon you.”

Unable to bear the wounds she opened, Acheron stood. “I should probably be going.”

She looked stricken. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” He didn’t want her to feel bad when her intent had been to comfort him. It wasn’t her fault that the only person who loved him was his sister and that his parents had both cursed him since the moment of his birth. “I was headed toward the stadium for a play when I stopped in the market. I should go before I miss any more of it.”

She took his hand in hers, then froze as her fingers touched his slave’s brand. Her grip tightened. “You’re a slave?”

He felt his face heat as humiliation washed over him. He wanted to curse at her accidental discovery. “I was. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.”

But she didn’t release him. She covered his hand with her other one and offered him a smile of friendship. “Take your cloak off and sit, Acheron. You’ve done nothing to apologize for. I admire you all the more for stopping to help us. It’s nothing for a nobleman to do so, yet they seldom bother to help those less fortunate. For a freedman to speak up in defense of another takes great courage and character. What you did is all the more noble and kind, and I would be honored to have you sit at my table with us.”

Acheron couldn’t breathe as emotions gathered to tighten his throat. He wasn’t used to anyone complimenting him outside of a bed. “Thank you.”

Smiling, she patted his hand before she let him go. “You know, my father used to tell me all the time when I was a child that when we first meet someone we never recall later what was said or what they wore. What we remember most is how that person made us feel. You made my grandson feel important by defending him and you’ve made me eternally grateful for that selfless act. Thank you, child.”

And the two of them had given him dignity. She was right. He’d remember that always.

Merus returned with a clay jug, breathless. “I’ve plenty of milk, Ya Ya. Is the bread ready?”

“Almost, dearest.” She took the milk from him and poured it into cups for them.

Merus brought a cup for Acheron and set it before him. “Have you fought many battles, my lord?”

He lowered his cowl to smile at the innocent question. “No, Merus. None, and please, just call me Acheron.”

“It’s all right, akribos,” Eleni said gently. “Acheron doesn’t like titles.”

Merus got his own cup and then ran back to the table with it. He climbed up on the chair next to Acheron. “Can you fight with a sword?”

“Not at all.”

“Oh…” He looked disappointed by that. “So what do you do?”

“Merus,” his grandmother chided. “We don’t interrogate our guests.” She shook her head. “Forgive him, Acheron. He’s only seven and still learning.”

“He doesn’t bother me. I’m nineteen and still learning.”

Merus squealed with laughter.

Eleni brought the bread to the table and set it before Acheron along with a jar of honey and butter. “You have a most generous spirit. That is rare in this day and age.”

Merus scratched his ear as if he was confused by his grandmother’s words. “But what if he’s not what he seems? You always tell me that people sometimes put on masks and we don’t know what’s inside them.”

Eleni ruffled his hair. “You’re right, scamp. We can never really see into the hearts of others. When I wasn’t much older than you, my father used to charge my brothers for their room and board. Everyone thought he was mean to do such a thing to his own children. My brothers hated him for it.”

“For being poor?” Acheron asked.

She shook her head. “No. My family actually had quite a bit of money because my father was a miser with every coin. People hated him for that too, yet what they didn’t understand was that as a boy, he and his family had been thrown out of their home for lack of coin. His baby sister, the one he loved more than anything, became ill from homelessness. She died of starvation in his arms and he swore then that no one he loved would ever die because of poverty again.”

Acheron felt for the poor man. Having known such poverty himself, he could understand the man’s reasoning. There was nothing worse than starving. Nothing worse than living on the street with no protection from the elements … or other people.

Merus cocked his head. “But why did he charge your brothers if he had plenty of money?”

Her features softened as she cupped his chubby face. “He was putting all that money aside for when my brothers were ready to wed.”

“Why, Ya Ya?”

She still didn’t lose patience with him. “Because you can’t marry until you can afford a bride price and you must have a home to take your wife to. When my brothers found those wives, my father pulled out all the money they’d paid him over the years. He’d put it aside for them as savings so that each of my brothers had a small fortune to set up a household when they were old enough. In the end, he wasn’t the mean person everyone thought him to be. What he did was for their benefit since it was money they would have squandered on foolishness. And it goes to show that we never know what’s in the hearts of people when we judge them. Actions that sometimes seem mean aren’t. Rather they are done by the ones we love in order to protect us without our knowing it.”

Merus held the plate of bread out to Acheron. “Ya Ya says that company gets first choice.”

Acheron smiled before he took a piece and buttered it. “Thank you, Merus.”

The boy served himself and then his grandmother. The normality of it all slammed into Acheron. Here he sat, with his head uncovered, and neither of them reacted to him at all. There were no furtive, lustful glances that they were trying to conceal. No nervous movements.

He was just another person to them. Gods, how much that meant to him.

“You’re right,” he said after he swallowed his bread. “This is the best I’ve ever eaten.”

Eleni lifted her chin in pride. “Thank you. I learned the art of it from my mother. She was the most skilled baker in all of Greece.”

Acheron smiled. “Surely in all the world. I can’t imagine anything better than this.”

“Her pastries,” Merus said around a mouthful of food. “They’ll make you weep.”

Acheron laughed. “I imagine a man would look rather strange weeping over food.”

Merus smacked his lips. “Trust me, it’s worth the humiliation.”

Eleni ruffled his hair. “Eat up, child. You need to grow strong and tall, like Acheron.”

Acheron didn’t speak as he finished the bread. He delayed as long as he could, but all too soon he was done and it was time to leave.

“Thank you again,” he said to them.

Eleni stood up with him. “Our pleasure, Acheron. Feel free to return anytime you’d like to try some of my pastries.”

Merus grinned at him. “I’ll have a hankie ready.”

“I’m sure you will.” Lifting his cowl, Acheron made sure to cover himself completely. “Good day to you.”

“May the gods be with you.”

If she only knew. Acheron carefully ducked out of the door and made his way back toward the hill where the palace was set. Strange, he’d set out to escape into the world of fantasy through the plot of a play and instead had his spirits lifted even higher by an unexpected encounter with real people. Eleni and Merus had given him more than an escape.

They’d given him normality. If only for a short while. And it meant everything to him. He felt better than he had in a long time.

At least until he returned home.

He hesitated in the foyer as he saw the large gathering of nobles and Senate members who were accompanied by their families. Not that it should be that much of a surprise, but no one had told him there was to be a party.

Had he known, he’d have stayed locked in his room. His experience with such events had never gone well. Of course, in the past, he’d been the main attraction/fascination for all the guests. A chill swept over him as he remembered the times he’d been paraded around and pawed at before someone in the group threw him to the ground …

Pulling his cowl lower, he kept to the shadows as he made his way to the stairs. With any luck no one would approach him.

Yet as he drew even to the ballroom, his father’s voice stopped him dead.

“Thank you all for coming to celebrate with me. It’s not every day that a king is so blessed.”

Acheron crept closer to the doors to see his father on a dais. Ryssa stood to his left with Apollo by her side. The god’s arm was wrapped possessively around her shoulders. Styxx was to his father’s right. He held hands with a tall, beautiful dark-haired woman.

“Let us all raise our cups in honor of my only daughter, the human consort for the god Apollo who is now expecting his child, and to my only son who will be marrying the Egyptian princess Nefertari. May the gods bless them both and may our lands forever flourish.”

A bitter jealousy tore through him as he listened. It stung so deep in his heart that it was all he could do not to lower his cowl and call out to his father that he did indeed have another son. But to what purpose?

His father would only deny him and then have him beaten for the affront and embarrassment.

Anger overrode the jealousy as his father proudly kissed Ryssa and then Styxx.

“To my beloved children,” he said to the crowd once more. “Long may they live.”

A deafening shout rose up from everyone except Acheron who couldn’t breathe from the weight of agony and rejection.

I am the eldest
 …

“You are a deformed whore and a slave.”
Estes’s voice echoed from his past.
“You don’t speak unless you’re addressed. You are never to look anyone in the face. You should be grateful I even tolerate you in my house. Now get on your knees and please me.”

Acheron wanted to die as shame filled him. His father was right. There was nothing about him worth loving and definitely nothing that warranted any kind of pride. Hanging his head, he made his way up the stairs and to his bedroom.

His heart heavy, he lowered the cowl, grateful there was no mirror here to remind him of why he deserved nothing save the scorn of decent people.

“Acheron?”

He froze at the whisper behind him. “What do you want, Artemis?”

“I want my friend back.”

Acheron closed his eyes against the tears that he hid inside himself. He wanted so desperately to have value to someone. Anyone. Not for what he earned for them, but because they cared for him.

Artemis moved to stand just behind him. So close he could feel her presence as if they were touching. “I’ve missed you.”

He wanted to rail at her. To scream out how much he hated what she’d done to him.

To beg her not to ever hurt him again.

But what was the use? All humans were the playthings of the gods. He was only a little closer to one than the others.

“Am I forgiven then?” he asked, hating himself for the subservient question.

“Yes.” She pressed herself to his back and wrapped her arms around him.

Grinding his teeth, he forced himself not to stiffen or shove her away. “Thank you.”

Artemis wanted to weep at the joy she felt. She had her Acheron back … She couldn’t believe how much she’d missed him. How afraid she’d been of his rejection.

Most of all, she wanted him to know how glad she was to have his friendship returned. “I promise, I will never hurt you again.”

Acheron didn’t believe that for one instant. She’d shattered his trust the moment she’d taken him by the hair, knowing how much he despised it. Knowing how demeaning that action was for him.

He’d have rather she just tossed coins in his face and walked out.

She pulled him against her and kissed him like a lover. He returned the kiss with all the passion of someone who’d been paid for it. How sad that she couldn’t tell the difference between a kiss he felt and one that was born of obligation. Then again, he was the best whore money could buy.