While Styxx went so far as to be obnoxiously domineering, often making people redo tasks just for the feeling of power he had over them, Acheron accepted anything done to him without complaint.
Wishing there was something I could do to make him feel safe and more comfortable, I left him in his room and went to rest in mine. I just needed a small break from the stress of worrying about him. The servants here were mostly elderly and the one thing I'd noticed was that older people seemed more immune to whatever it was Acheron possessed. Or if not immune, they were less likely to act upon it.
Not to mention, the staff would realize he was family and that alone would keep them away from him.
I hoped.
Weary, I went over to my desk and wrote a quick note to Father to let him know that I needed some time away from Didymos. He was used to my travels as I often visited my widowed aunt in Athens or would come here to the summer palace so that I could just be alone. Like Acheron, I valued my solitude. So long as I had Boraxis with me and kept my father notified of my well-being and whereabouts, my father was indulgent of my impulsive trips.
The only place he'd forbidden me to visit had been Atlantis—now I knew why. And to think, I'd honestly believed him when he'd told me it was too far and dangerous a trip for a girl my age to make without proper escort. Little had I suspected it was to protect his brother and his licentiousness.
I'd just finished writing the note telling my father I was in Athens, when I stood up and paused. My attention was caught by movement outside my window, in the garden. At first, I couldn't believe what I saw.
It was Acheron.
How unlike him to do anything without express permission. He would barely move unless he was told to do so. I had to blink twice just to make sure I wasn't dreaming. But no, it was definitely he . . .
Even though it was a mild winter, it was cold enough to need a cloak outside. Yet there he stood, barefoot, walking in the grass by the fountain. He had his head bent low and appeared to be curling his toes in the grass. It looked as if he was enjoying the sensation, but since he never smiled, it was hard to tell.
What on earth was he doing?
I grabbed my cloak and headed outside to check on him.
As soon as he saw my approach, he shrank from me until he was up against the far stone wall. With no place else to go, he sank to his knees and held his arm up as if to protect his head and face. "Forgive me, Idika. Please, I-I-I meant no offense."
I knelt beside him and took his face in my hands to soothe him. He tensed so much at my touch that it was a wonder he wasn't brittle from it. "Acheron, it's all right. No one's angry at you. You've done nothing wrong. Shh . . ."
He swallowed as his fright turned to confusion. Dear gods, what had they done to him that he should tremble so when he'd done nothing to warrant it?
"I was only curious why you were out here without your shoes on. It's cold and I didn't want you to catch a fever."
My concern baffled him as much as his fear baffled me.
He gestured toward his room that held a small terrace which, like mine, opened out onto the garden. The door was still ajar. "I didn't see anyone here so I thought it safe. I just wanted to feel the grass. I-I meant no harm, Idika. I was going to return to my room as soon as I finished. I swear it."
"I know," I said, stroking his face again before I released him.He relaxed a tiny degree now that I didn't touch him. "It really is all right. I'm not upset at you. But I don't understand why you'd want to feel the grass as cold as it is. It's all dried up this time of year."
He brushed his hand over it. "Does it not always feel like this?"
I frowned at his question. "You've never touched grass before?"
"I think I did when I was small. But I don't remember." He brushed his hand over it again in a gentle action that wrung my heart. "I only wanted to touch it once. I won't leave my
Wishing there was something I could do to make him feel safe and more comfortable, I left him in his room and went to rest in mine. I just needed a small break from the stress of worrying about him. The servants here were mostly elderly and the one thing I'd noticed was that older people seemed more immune to whatever it was Acheron possessed. Or if not immune, they were less likely to act upon it.
Not to mention, the staff would realize he was family and that alone would keep them away from him.
I hoped.
Weary, I went over to my desk and wrote a quick note to Father to let him know that I needed some time away from Didymos. He was used to my travels as I often visited my widowed aunt in Athens or would come here to the summer palace so that I could just be alone. Like Acheron, I valued my solitude. So long as I had Boraxis with me and kept my father notified of my well-being and whereabouts, my father was indulgent of my impulsive trips.
The only place he'd forbidden me to visit had been Atlantis—now I knew why. And to think, I'd honestly believed him when he'd told me it was too far and dangerous a trip for a girl my age to make without proper escort. Little had I suspected it was to protect his brother and his licentiousness.
I'd just finished writing the note telling my father I was in Athens, when I stood up and paused. My attention was caught by movement outside my window, in the garden. At first, I couldn't believe what I saw.
It was Acheron.
How unlike him to do anything without express permission. He would barely move unless he was told to do so. I had to blink twice just to make sure I wasn't dreaming. But no, it was definitely he . . .
Even though it was a mild winter, it was cold enough to need a cloak outside. Yet there he stood, barefoot, walking in the grass by the fountain. He had his head bent low and appeared to be curling his toes in the grass. It looked as if he was enjoying the sensation, but since he never smiled, it was hard to tell.
What on earth was he doing?
I grabbed my cloak and headed outside to check on him.
As soon as he saw my approach, he shrank from me until he was up against the far stone wall. With no place else to go, he sank to his knees and held his arm up as if to protect his head and face. "Forgive me, Idika. Please, I-I-I meant no offense."
I knelt beside him and took his face in my hands to soothe him. He tensed so much at my touch that it was a wonder he wasn't brittle from it. "Acheron, it's all right. No one's angry at you. You've done nothing wrong. Shh . . ."
He swallowed as his fright turned to confusion. Dear gods, what had they done to him that he should tremble so when he'd done nothing to warrant it?
"I was only curious why you were out here without your shoes on. It's cold and I didn't want you to catch a fever."
My concern baffled him as much as his fear baffled me.
He gestured toward his room that held a small terrace which, like mine, opened out onto the garden. The door was still ajar. "I didn't see anyone here so I thought it safe. I just wanted to feel the grass. I-I meant no harm, Idika. I was going to return to my room as soon as I finished. I swear it."
"I know," I said, stroking his face again before I released him.He relaxed a tiny degree now that I didn't touch him. "It really is all right. I'm not upset at you. But I don't understand why you'd want to feel the grass as cold as it is. It's all dried up this time of year."
He brushed his hand over it. "Does it not always feel like this?"
I frowned at his question. "You've never touched grass before?"
"I think I did when I was small. But I don't remember." He brushed his hand over it again in a gentle action that wrung my heart. "I only wanted to touch it once. I won't leave my
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