room again, Idika. I should have asked permission first. Forgive me." He hung his head down.
I wanted to reach out and touch him again, but I knew how much he hated that. "You don't have to ask my permission, Acheron. You may come here anytime you wish. You're free now."
He looked at his branded palm that held his slave's mark, then clenched it into a fist. "Idikos said that the king made him promise I would never leave the house."
I gaped at his disclosure. "You've been locked in your room since you arrived at Atlantis?"
"Not always. When idikos returns from a trip, I greet him in the receiving room. I'm always the first one he wants to see. Then sometimes idikos chains me in his office by my ankles or to his bed. And at night I go to the dining hall and to the ballroom when we have parties."
And every night he slept in Estes's bed. He'd already told me that much.
"But you've never been outside?"
He glanced at me, then averted his gaze. It was what Estes had taught him to do since so many people were put off by his swirling silver eyes. "I'm allowed to sit on the balcony between clients so that my skin isn't so pale. Meara will even let me eat out there sometimes."
I'd learned from him that Meara was the maid who'd written to me and who'd helped him escape. She'd been the kindest of his keepers and the only one who'd made sure that he ate and was comfortable . . . when not entertaining. The other thing I'd learned from him was that Estes used food to control him.
Acheron ate only when he was pleasing to others. How much he was allowed depended on how many clients he'd seen that day and how happy they'd been with him.
The very thought sickened me.
"You love Meara, don't you?"
"She's always kind to me. Even when I'm bad, she doesn't hurt me."
Bad. Defined by Estes as anytime a client was rough with Acheron and left a mark on his body. Acheron was charged with pleasing them in any way they wanted and yet if they wanted to be rough and he allowed it, he was punished for it. If he didn't allow them to hurt him, they were displeased and Estes punished him twice as hard for not giving them what they paid for. Acheron couldn't win this battle.
I clenched my hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch him. I just wanted to gather him into my arms and hold him until the nightmare that had been his life was completely erased from his memory.
But how? How could I make him understand that he was safe now? That no one would ever touch him without his explicit invitation? That he was free to make his own decisions and that no one would beat him for voicing his opinion?
Or for walking outside to feel the grass on his feet?
It would take time. "I'm going back to my room." I pointed to the doors that opened into my chambers. "You can stay out here as long as you like. When you're hungry, tell Petra, the tall older woman you met on our arrival, and she'll make you whatever you wish. If you need me, don't hesitate to come to my room. The day is yours, little brother. All I ask is that you please put on your shoes so that you won't fall ill."
He nodded and didn't move until I'd put enough distance between us that he was sure I couldn't strike him. I wanted to weep over that.
But there was nothing to be done except to show him that I meant what I said. His life was now his own.
Withdrawing, I returned to my room where I watched him as he put on the shoes he must have been holding under his cloak. Then he explored the small garden for hours. He must have touched everything that was there, feeling the texture and smelling it.
It wasn't until the sun had begun to set that he made his way back to his room. I waited a few minutes before I went to the kitchen and had Petra take him a tray of food.
"Highness?" she asked as I started to leave.
"Yes, Petra?"
"Our guest . . . is he all right?"
"He's fine. He's just bashful and quiet."
She nodded before she made his tray and left with it. Her
I wanted to reach out and touch him again, but I knew how much he hated that. "You don't have to ask my permission, Acheron. You may come here anytime you wish. You're free now."
He looked at his branded palm that held his slave's mark, then clenched it into a fist. "Idikos said that the king made him promise I would never leave the house."
I gaped at his disclosure. "You've been locked in your room since you arrived at Atlantis?"
"Not always. When idikos returns from a trip, I greet him in the receiving room. I'm always the first one he wants to see. Then sometimes idikos chains me in his office by my ankles or to his bed. And at night I go to the dining hall and to the ballroom when we have parties."
And every night he slept in Estes's bed. He'd already told me that much.
"But you've never been outside?"
He glanced at me, then averted his gaze. It was what Estes had taught him to do since so many people were put off by his swirling silver eyes. "I'm allowed to sit on the balcony between clients so that my skin isn't so pale. Meara will even let me eat out there sometimes."
I'd learned from him that Meara was the maid who'd written to me and who'd helped him escape. She'd been the kindest of his keepers and the only one who'd made sure that he ate and was comfortable . . . when not entertaining. The other thing I'd learned from him was that Estes used food to control him.
Acheron ate only when he was pleasing to others. How much he was allowed depended on how many clients he'd seen that day and how happy they'd been with him.
The very thought sickened me.
"You love Meara, don't you?"
"She's always kind to me. Even when I'm bad, she doesn't hurt me."
Bad. Defined by Estes as anytime a client was rough with Acheron and left a mark on his body. Acheron was charged with pleasing them in any way they wanted and yet if they wanted to be rough and he allowed it, he was punished for it. If he didn't allow them to hurt him, they were displeased and Estes punished him twice as hard for not giving them what they paid for. Acheron couldn't win this battle.
I clenched my hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch him. I just wanted to gather him into my arms and hold him until the nightmare that had been his life was completely erased from his memory.
But how? How could I make him understand that he was safe now? That no one would ever touch him without his explicit invitation? That he was free to make his own decisions and that no one would beat him for voicing his opinion?
Or for walking outside to feel the grass on his feet?
It would take time. "I'm going back to my room." I pointed to the doors that opened into my chambers. "You can stay out here as long as you like. When you're hungry, tell Petra, the tall older woman you met on our arrival, and she'll make you whatever you wish. If you need me, don't hesitate to come to my room. The day is yours, little brother. All I ask is that you please put on your shoes so that you won't fall ill."
He nodded and didn't move until I'd put enough distance between us that he was sure I couldn't strike him. I wanted to weep over that.
But there was nothing to be done except to show him that I meant what I said. His life was now his own.
Withdrawing, I returned to my room where I watched him as he put on the shoes he must have been holding under his cloak. Then he explored the small garden for hours. He must have touched everything that was there, feeling the texture and smelling it.
It wasn't until the sun had begun to set that he made his way back to his room. I waited a few minutes before I went to the kitchen and had Petra take him a tray of food.
"Highness?" she asked as I started to leave.
"Yes, Petra?"
"Our guest . . . is he all right?"
"He's fine. He's just bashful and quiet."
She nodded before she made his tray and left with it. Her
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