He was right, and deep in my heart I knew it. All I'd done in my stupidity was to hurt him more. I had shown him a better life, one where he was respected and given choices.

Now he would have no say in anything about his life. He would be less than nothing in Atlantis.

I sobbed as a guard grabbed him roughly by his arm and forced him into a chariot. Acheron never looked back at me. I realized he must truly hate me for what I'd done to him and I couldn't blame him for it.

Heartsick, I stood there and watched as they rode away.

"Acheron!" Maia screamed as she came tearing out of the doorway.

Only then did he look back. His face was stoic, but I saw the tears in his eyes as he waved good-bye to her.

Falling to my knees, I pulled Maia into my arms as she sobbed with the heartfelt sadness that haunted me as well.

Acheron was gone and there was no hope of my ever freeing him again. Father would make sure of that.

Then I remembered the words the old priestess had uttered the day of his birth.

May the gods have mercy on you, little one. No one else ever will.

I knew just how right she'd been. Acheron was right, the gods had cursed him.

Otherwise we would have had our three days . . .

June 23, 9530 BC

It had been one year since I last saw Acheron. Maia and I sat in the orchard of the summer palace for hours this afternoon thinking about him. Wondering what he was doing. How he fared. I told Maia that I was sure he was fine, but in my heart I knew the truth. He was anything other than fine. There was no telling what was being done to him while the two of us sat nibbling on olives and cheese while playing in the warm sun.

I'd sent numerous letters to Acheron in Atlantis to no avail. No one would tell me anything of him. The maid who'd originally contacted me had died under suspicious circumstances-that much I'd overheard in a conversation between my father and my uncle not long after Acheron had returned to Atlantis.

Estes hasn't spoke to me since.

I'd attempted to ask my uncle on his last visit about Acheron. He brushed me aside with a bitter dismissal. He knows I know what he's doing and he will no longer acknowledge me in the least.

I'm dead to my uncle. Not that it really matters to me at this point. He died to me the moment I saw my brother tied to a bed because of Estes's greed.

But it made me wonder how Acheron felt about me. If he even thought about me anymore. Did he hate me over what had happened? Or was he so drugged now that he no longer even recalled my name?

There was no telling.

I had no hope of saving him again. Because of what I'd done, Father now keeps me under extreme guard at all times. I no longer have the freedom to travel without his express permission. Boraxis was reassigned to cleaning out the stables and replaced with another guard who refuses to even speak to me.

Even Styxx barely acknowledges my presence.

"How can you let your own twin suffer so?" I'd asked him barely a week after Acheron had been taken.

"Estes would never do such a thing. It's another of your lies designed to make us free Acheron. You should be grateful I'm not king yet. I'd have you whipped for such treachery."

I'd wanted to choke him for his obstinacy.

Even more upsetting were the rumors I'd heard of political trouble between Greece and Atlantis. Our truce seemed to be threatened. What would happen to Acheron should war resume? Even though Father and Styxx denied it, Acheron was still a Greek prince. He could easily be taken prisoner and executed . . .

I wondered if Father had considered the fact that if Acheron were killed, he'd lose his precious Styxx in the process. Most likely, he'd forgotten that bit of prophecy.

But I remembered and I ached for a brother I doubted I'd ever see again.

Acheron was lost to me now.

If only I could see him one last time . . .

September 21, 9529 BC

Estes died two days ago while he was staying with us on Didymos. Styxx and my father were naturally heartbroken. But I wasn't so stricken. While a part of me was saddened by his untimely death, another part rejoiced. Though Estes had been rather young to have had the seizure that claimed his life, I couldn't help but wonder if it hadn't been sent by the gods to punish him for what he'd done to Acheron. Perhaps it was uncharitable of me to think that. Still, I couldn't help but wonder.

We were headed now for Atlantis to collect Acheron and bring him home at long last.

Home where he belongs.

Because of the impending war with Atlantis, Father intended to close Estes's house and sell it. I couldn't be more thrilled by the prospect. And I was sure that Acheron would be even more so. No doubt he wanted to see it kept even less than I did.

Before we'd left home, a suite had been prepared for Acheron at the palace. I couldn't wait to see him again. What I could almost find humorous was that, after avoiding me for so long, Father and Styxx allowed me to accompany them. Of course that was only so that I could keep Acheron away from them. But I didn't care so long as I saw him again.

Just a few days more and we'd reach Atlantis. This time, when I collected Acheron, he would stay where he was safe.

September 26, 9529 BC

I was excited beyond excited when I saw Estes's house again. Not much had changed since my last visit. Even the same servant opened the door. He seemed surprised to see the three of us, especially my father.

"I've come to collect Acheron," my father announced. "Show me to him."

Without a word, the gloomy old man led us down the same hallway I'd traveled once before. Down to the room that had haunted my nightmares and thoughts.

My happiness died as we reached it and reality came crashing down on me.

Nothing had changed.

Nothing.

I knew it before the servant opened the door.

When it swung open my worst fears were confirmed with crystal clarity.

"What is this?" my father roared.

I covered my mouth with my hand as I saw Acheron on his bed with a man and a woman-all of them were completely naked and writhing entwined on the linen sheets. I was horrified by the sight of what they were doing to Acheron. Of what he was doing to them.

In all my life, I'd never seen such depravity.

The man pulled back from Acheron with a feral curse. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded in an equally imperious tone. I could tell by his bearing that he was an Atlantean of wealth and power. "How dare you interrupt us!"

Acheron gave one last playful thrust and lick to the woman's body before he rolled over onto his back. He lay unabashedly naked on the bed, smirking.

"Prince Ydorus," Acheron said to the angry man addressing my father. "Meet King Xerxes of Didymos."

That took some of the bluster out of the prince, but not much.

"Leave us," my father demanded.

Offended, the prince gathered his clothes and his companion and did as my father ordered.

Acheron wiped his mouth on the sheet. His skin once more had that sickly, gray cast to it. He was even thinner than he'd been the last time I'd seen him in this room, his features gaunt. He was again adorned with the gold bands on his neck, arms, wrists and ankles.

Worst of all, I saw the balls on his tongue flash in the light as he spoke. No longer did he clench his teeth as if embarrassed by what he was. Now it was as if he took pride in it.

"So what brings you here, Majesty?" Acheron asked, his tone mocking and cold. "Do you wish to spend time with me, too?"

It was then I realized the hurt boy I'd saved was gone. The man on the bed was bitter. Angry. Defiant.

This wasn't the youth who'd fearfully snuck out of his room so that he could feel the grass on his feet.

This was a man who had been used one time too many. And he wanted the world to know exactly how much he hated it and everyone who was part of it.

"Get up," my father snarled. "Cover yourself."

One corner of his mouth quirked up in a mocking expression. "Why? People pay five hundred gold pieces an hour to see me naked. You should be honored you get to look for free."

Father strode over, grabbed him roughly by his arm and pulled him from the bed.

Acheron covered Father's hand with his own and tsked at him. "It's a thousand gold pieces an hour if you want to bruise me."

Bile rose in my throat.

Father backhanded Acheron so hard he fell to the floor where he sprawled naked on his back.

Laughing, Acheron licked at the blood on his lips before he wiped it away on the back of his scarred hand. "It's fifteen hundred to make me bleed."

My father curled his lips. "You're disgusting."

With a wry grin, Acheron rolled to his side and gracefully pushed himself up from the floor. "Careful, Father, you might actually hurt my feelings." He walked around my father like a proud, stalking lion, looking him up and down. "Oh wait, I forgot. Whores don't have feelings. We have no dignity for you to offend."

"I am not your father."

"Yes, I know the story well. It was beaten into me years ago. You're not my father and Estes isn't my uncle. It saves his reputation if everyone thinks I'm some poor waif he found on the streets and gave shelter to. It's fine to sell a homeless beggar, a worthless bastard. But the aristocracy frowns on those who sell their blood relatives."

Father backhanded him again.

Acheron laughed, unfazed by the fact that his nose was now bleeding along with his lips. "If you really want to hurt me, I'll ring for the whips. But if you continue to strike my face, you'll make Estes unbelievably angry. He doesn't like anyone to mar my beauty."

"Estes is dead," my father roared.

Acheron froze in place, then blinked as if he couldn't believe what he'd heard. "Estes is dead?" he repeated hollowly.

My father sneered at him. "Yes. Would that it were you in his place."

Acheron took a deep breath and the relief in his eyes was tangible.

I could almost hear his thoughts in my head.

It's over. It's finally over.

Acheron's obvious relief made my father furious. "How dare you have no tears for him! He sheltered and protected you."

Acheron looked at him drily. "Believe me, I've paid him well for his shelter and concern. Every night when he took me to his bed. Every day when he sold me to whomever paid his price."

"You lie!"

"I'm a whore, Father, not a liar."

Father attacked him then. He beat and kicked furiously at Acheron who didn't bother to fight or protect himself. No doubt he'd been trained to take that too. I ran to Acheron, trying to shield him.

Styxx pulled Father back. "Please, Father," he said. "Calm down! The last thing you need is to tax your heart. I don't want to see you die as Estes did."

Acheron lay on the floor once more. His face covered in blood and bruises, had already started to swell.

"Don't," he said, pushing me away. He spat the blood from his mouth to the floor where it landed in a stark red splatter.

"Get out," Father snarled at him. "I don't ever want to see you again."

Acheron laughed at that and cast a look to Styxx. "Rather difficult for that, isn't it?"

Father started for him again, but Styxx put himself between them.

"Guards!" Styxx shouted.

They appeared instantly.

Styxx indicated Acheron with a jerk of his chin. "Put this trash on the street where it belongs."

Acheron pushed himself to his feet. "I don't need their help. I can walk out the door on my own."

"You need clothes and money," I told him.

"He deserves nothing," my father said. "Nothing but our scorn."

Acheron's battered face was completely stoic. "Then I am rich indeed from the abundance of that which you've shown me." At the door, he paused to smirk one last time at our father. "You know, it took me a long time to realize why you hate me so much." His gaze went to Styxx. "But then it's not me you really hate, is it? What you truly despise is how badly you want to fuck your own son."

My father bellowed in anger.

With his head held high, Acheron left the room.

"How could you?" I asked Father. "I told you years ago what Estes was doing with him and you denied it. How can you blame him for this?"

My father snarled at me. "Estes didn't do this. Acheron did it himself. Estes told me of the way he parades himself around. The way he tempts everyone. He's a destroyer just as they said at his birth. He will not rest until he ruins every person he's around."

I was appalled. How could a man renowned for his practical sense be so blind and stupid?

"He's just a confused boy, Father. He needs a family."

As always, Father ignored me.

Disgusted by him and Styxx, I rushed from the room, after Acheron.

I caught up to him as he was leaving the house and pulled him to a stop. The torment and pain in his silver eyes cut through me. There was no pleading from him this time. No asking me why. As with everything else, he merely accepted this as his due.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Does it matter?"

It did to me. But I knew he wouldn't answer.

I pulled my cloak off and wrapped it around his shoulders so that at least his nudity would be covered. I raised the cowl to shield his head and beauty, knowing it would be modest protection from the world around him.

He placed his hands over mine, then lifted my right hand to his bloodied lips and kissed the knuckles.

Without another word, he turned and left.

I stood in the doorway watching him as he walked through the crowded street and realized that he was wrong. He did have dignity. He walked down the street with all the proud bearing of a king.

May 17, 9529 BC

I was in the market square today, shopping with my maid Sera when I saw an exceptionally tall man pass by me. At first I thought it was Styxx, especially when a sudden gust of wind blew the cowl off of his head and I saw his incredibly handsome face.

But as I started to call out to him, I noticed that he wore the scarlet chiton of a prostitute-it was forbidden by law for prostitutes to appear in public wearing anything else and their heads must always be kept covered. If a practicing prostitute was caught mixing with people without that mode of dress to warn "decent" people what they were, they could be executed on sight.

Acheron quickly covered his head again as he moved through the crowd.

He looked much better than he had the last time I'd seen him. His skin was golden and tanned, and he was no longer painfully thin. His chiton covered one shoulder, leaving the other bare. An engraved golden cuff encircled his left biceps over an arm that finally had serious muscle to it.

My word, he was without a doubt the most handsome of men-even if he was my brother. I'd have to be blind not to notice.

Leaving Sera to browse over cloth, I followed after him, so grateful to find him alive and well.

But it broke my heart that he was still selling himself.

He met an attractive older woman at one of the booths who held a ring up to him.

"Does this fit?" she asked.

He handed it back to her. "I don't want a ring, Catera. But I thank you for the thought."

She returned the ring to the vendor, then ran her hand up and down his bare arm in an intimate caress.

A lover's caress.

He didn't react to it at all.

"My precious Acheron," she said with a laugh. "You're so unlike my other employees. You take only what you earn and nothing more and you tip every servant at the stew which is why they're so kind to you. I don't think I'll ever understand you." She took his hand and led him through the booths. "A word of wisdom to you, akribos, you need to learn to accept gifts."

He scoffed at her words. "There's no such thing as a gift. If I were to take that from you, sooner or later you would ask a favor from me in return. Nothing in life is ever truly given without expectation."

Catera tsked at him. "You are far too young to be so jaded. Whatever did they do to you to make you so suspicious?"

He didn't say anything.

But in my heart, I knew the horrors of his past. Knew what had stolen his trust. No doubt I was one of the key factors that had turned him into this bitter stranger I barely recognized.

As they walked, the woman chatted endlessly, trying to entice him to notice other trinkets and such. He would only look at them silently, then turn away.

I stayed back, making sure they didn't notice me. Not that it was difficult. Acheron kept his eyes cast down as if unwilling to look at anyone around him while Catera saw only him.

A man came up to them and pulled her aside.

Acheron wandered a few booths over while they spoke. It hurt me to watch him. To see the way the vendors curled their lips at his approach. The way "decent" people averted their eyes or looked scornfully at his clothes.

But even more horrifying than that was the way their expressions shifted the moment they saw his face. The blazing hot lust was undeniable. The intensity of it frightening.

Little did they know that but for an accident of birth and my father's unfounded hatred, Acheron would have been their future king.

It made me seethe and at the same time, there was nothing I could do to help.

How I hated being born a woman in a world where women were barely one step up from dirt.

Catera returned to his side.

Acheron glanced to the man who was still watching them. The man's eyes were hungry.

Acheron's were empty. "He wanted to purchase me." It was a statement of fact as if he were more than used to it.

She laughed at that. "They all want to purchase you, akribos. If I ever wanted to sell you as a slave, no doubt I would be richer than Midas."

A shadowed pain darkened his eyes at her words. "I should go back and prepare myself for-"

"No," she said, cutting him off. "This day is yours to do with as you please. You work too hard. You can't stay inside all the time."

His jaw flexed at her words. "I don't like being around people."

"And yet you don't mind having sex with them. I don't understand you."

He started away from her.

"Acheron," she said, pulling him to a stop. "I'm sorry. I just . . ." She paused and rubbed his hand. "You can't continue on the way you do. No one sees clients from waking to sleeping, day after day without stop. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the money you make for me, but at the rate you're going, you'll end up dead before you're one-and-twenty."

He gave a short, bitter laugh. "I told you, it's what I'm used to."

"And I told you that I wouldn't let you be hurt at my house. I take care of my people, especially those who are as popular as you are." She pressed a small purse into his hand. "Take the rest of the day and enjoy it. Go to a play. Go get drunk. Go enjoy being young while you can and I'll see you this evening."

The woman walked away from him.

Acheron gripped the purse in his hand before he tucked it inside his robes, then he headed in the opposite direction.

Torn, I stood there debating whom to follow.

I sent my bodyguard after the woman. I knew I couldn't meet with her openly lest someone see us together and report it to my father. So I had him invite her into a small hostel.

I paid the owner to let me into a small room in the back where I could speak to Catera without being seen.

A few minutes later, my bodyguard appeared with Catera by his side. He left us alone and went to stand guard outside the door.

"My lady," Catera said, shifting uneasily. "What can I do for you?"

"Please be seated." I indicated the chair in front of me.

Obviously nervous, she took a seat.

I softened my expression, hoping to calm her nerves. "I wanted to ask you about . . ." I hesitated at saying "my brother." Such knowledge might hurt him. "Acheron," I finished. "Where did you find him?"

She smiled knowingly. "He is handsome, is he not? But alas, he's not for sale. If my lady is interested in purchasing his services-"

"No!" I said, shocked at her suggestion. But then I realized it wasn't out of character for her to think that. "He . . . He reminds me of someone."

She nodded. "Yes, he's almost identical in looks to Prince Styxx. A lot of my clientele thinks so as well. It's been very lucrative for him."

Little did she know it was the most destructive part about my brother. "Where did you find him?" I repeated.

"Why do you want to know?"

I didn't dare tell her the truth. "Please," I said quietly. "I can pay you whatever you wish, I just need a few questions about him answered." I pressed a dozen gold solas into her hand.

She tucked them away. "I know not where he comes from. He refuses to speak of it. But by his accent, I assume he's Atlantean in origin."

"He came to you?"

She nodded. "He showed up at my back door several months ago. Dressed in rags and barefoot, he looked like any other beggar except that he was freshly washed and his clothes looked as if he had tried to keep them laundered. He was pale, thin and so weak from hunger that he could barely stand."

I was horrified by what she described.

"He said he was looking for work and wanted to know if I had anything he could do. I told him that I wasn't hiring, but he'd heard from another brothel that I was looking for a new prostitute. It was all I could do not to laugh at him. I couldn't imagine anyone paying for such a pitiful creature. My first impulse was to throw him out."

"Why didn't you?"

"I can't explain it. Even though he was ragged in appearance, there was something undeniable about him. Something compelling that sent heat over me. It made me want to touch him even though he was skinny and frail. Then he said the most unbelievable thing of all. He told me that if I would give him five minutes, he would give me three orgasms."

I gasped at her words.

She laughed at my expression. "I was surprised, too. I've been around plenty of boastful men in my time that such a claim was hardly unheard of. But I was a bit intrigued to hear that out of the mouth of someone so young. At first I thought he was like many of the young men who come to me, most of them with little to no experience, who think prostitution is an easy way to make money. They have no idea just how hard it is physically. How taxing it is spiritually. I figured he was from a farm and had come to the city to try and make it rich."

I swallowed in dread before I spoke. "You made him prove his words?"

She laughed. "My lady, at my age, I'm lucky to get three orgasms in a year. So I told him if he was as good as he said then I would hire him. What I found out was that even half-dead from starvation he was better than he claimed. I've been with the best and his skills are completely unrivaled."

My stomach clenched at her words. I knew only too well just how much practice he'd had. "So you took him in."

She nodded. "It's a decision I haven't regretted. I had no idea just how handsome he would turn out to be once he had a few meals in him and some rest. Nor that he would be so strikingly similar to Prince Styxx. I kept him for three weeks before I let him work. From the first night he was taking clients, he was so popular that we had to start a waiting list.

"If you're interested in purchasing an hour with him, I can put you on the list, but as it stands, it'll be at least ten weeks before there's an opening."

I sat there stunned by her words. Stunned by what had become of the small boy I used to hold on my knee and bounce while he laughed.

What had they done to him? How could this be his life? It wasn't fair and it made me want to cry.

"Is there any way I might speak to him privately?"

Catera looked skeptical at the suggestion. "He prefers not to speak with his clients."

"I don't want to be a client," I told her sternly. "I happen to know him personally."

She arched a brow at that. "A friend?"

"Something like that." I said, unwilling to let her know the truth of our relationship. I pulled out more money and handed it to her. "Please. I will pay you anything if you can give me just a handful of minutes alone with him."

She debated for several heartbeats before she answered. "Very well, if you can come by my stew tonight-"

"I can't be seen by anyone in such a place."

"I understand, but I doubt he'll go out to meet you. He refuses to see anyone off the premises. Today is the first day since his arrival that I've been able to get him outside at all.

"But," she said thoughtfully, "If you can come by right at dawn, there's seldom anyone around. We're cleaning up from the night and all our clients are gone. I could let you in to see him then."

Relieved, I smiled. "Thank you. I'll see you at dawn."

May 18, 9529 BC

The morning was cold as if it were as afraid as I was. Alone, I snuck from the palace and crept silently through the city, following Catera's directions until I found her stew.

As she predicted, there was no one around.

She let me inside through her back door, then led me quietly through the house to a room in the far back. I kept my head and face well covered and did my best not to look at the poor souls we passed.

She opened a door.

I stepped inside hesitantly, expecting to see Acheron. He wasn't there. Instead, I heard water splashing in the room set off to the side and knew he must be bathing.

The musty scent of sex hung heavy in the room and I tried not to look at the freshly made bed. I closed my eyes as I thought of Styxx and the way he lived his life in comfort and peace while Acheron was forced to this.

I couldn't imagine the degradation that Acheron must suffer every day. The pain.

He entered the room completely naked, toweling his hair dry. He pulled up short as he caught sight of me standing just inside the threshold.

"Forgive me, my lady," he said in that sultry, smooth voice of his that held just a hint of an Atlantean accent. I was grateful that at least the balls were no longer lining his tongue. "I thought I was through for the night."

I lowered my cowl.

Recognizing me instantly, he narrowed his gaze. "Well, if it isn't Sister Ryssa. Tell me, are you here to save me or to fuck me? Oh wait, I forgot. When you save me, you do fuck me, don't you?"

Tears pricked my eyes at his hostile disdain. But then who could blame him for it? "You don't have to be so crude."

"You'll excuse me if my manners are lacking. Being a whore, I'm not very well versed in how decent people speak. The only time any of them converse with me is to give me instruction on how to better screw them." He dropped the towel on the bed and moved to a chair by the window.

Ignoring me, he sat down and opened a box on the table. I watched in silence as he placed several strange weeds and flowers in a flagon. He lit them, then closed the lid. Picking up a small clay bowl, he held it to his face, covering his mouth and nose, and inhaled it.

"What are you doing?"

He took several breaths before he pulled the clay bowl away from his mouth. "I'm using Xechnobia." At my frown, he explained it to me. "It's a drug, Ryssa."

"Are you sick?"

He laughed at that, then inhaled more of it. "That's a matter of opinion," he said after a small pause. A tic started in his jaw as he watched me closely. "I use it so that I can forget how many pairs of hands I've had on me in one day. It allows me to sleep in peace."

I'd heard of such things, but in my world they didn't exist. No doubt it was Estes who'd shown him the drug. I wanted to weep at what had become of the Acheron who used to bake bread and play games with Maia.

"So why are you here, Princess?" he asked.

"I wanted to see you."

"Why?"

"I was worried about you. I saw you today in the market and wanted to see how you were doing."

Acheron added more herbs to the pot, then blew on them to stir the embers around them. "I'm well. Now you can go home and sleep in wealth and good conscience." The mocking sarcasm of his tone stung me soul-deep.

I shook my head as tears gathered in my eyes. "How can you do this to yourself?"

He arched a mocking brow. "I'm a trained dog, Ryssa. I'm only doing what I was well taught to do."

"This is so demeaning. How could you have gone back to this?"

His eyes stormy, I saw the rage he bore me. "Gone back to this? Why, big sister, you speak as if this is a bad thing. For me it's paradise. I only have to fuck ten to twelve people a night, generally only one at a time. I'm finally allowed to eat at a table, not off the floor or someone's lap. No one makes me beg for food or punishes me the few days a year when I'm sick and can't screw. If anyone hurts or beats me, Catera bans them from her stew. She even pays me for my work and I get a day off once a week. Best of all, when I go to sleep, I go to bed alone. I've never had it so good."

I wanted to scream at the horror he described. The fact that I knew it was the truth only hurt me more. "And so you're content to live like this?"

He set the clay pot down on the table and pierced me with his mercurial gaze. "What do you honestly think, Princess?"

"I think you're worth more than this."

"Well, aren't you special to be able to see me as something more than a whore? Let me educate you on what the rest of the world sees. I left Atlantis and was sick for weeks from the drugs Estes had forced down my throat."

I remembered well how ill he'd been when I had rescued him.

"I had nothing but the himation you gave me. No money, no clothes. Nothing."

"So you went back to whoring?"

"What choice did I have? I traveled far and wide, while trying to find work doing anything else, but no one would hire me to work. When people see me, they only want one thing from me and I happen to be very good at it. Tell me, Princess, if Father threw you out tomorrow, naked on the streets, what would you do? What do you know how to do?"

I lifted my chin. "I could find something."

"I defy you to try it, Princess." He gestured toward the door behind me. "Go ahead. I don't even know how to sweep a floor. All I know how to do is use my body to please others. I was sick and alone with no references, friends, family or money. I was so weak from hunger that even a beggar stole your himation from me while I lay on the ground, wanting to die and unable to stop him from taking it. So don't come here now with your disdainful eyes and look at me like I'm beneath you. I don't need your charity and I don't need your pity. I know exactly what you see when you look at me."

"Do you really?"

He stood up and spread his arms wide, showing me his perfect naked body. "I see it clearly on your face. What you see is the pathetic little boy who kissed his father's feet and begged him not to send him back to whoring. You see the whore who pleasured a prince and was then thrown from his home."

I shook my head in denial. "No, Acheron. What I see is the little boy who used to run up to me and ask why his parents didn't love him. The same little golden-haired cherub who chased sunbeams in my room and laughed when they filled his palm. You are my brother and I will never see anything bad about you."

The anger on his face intensified to the point I actually thought he might strike me. "Get out."

Covering my head, I turned and left.

I waited for him to stop me. He didn't.

And with every step I took, I cried harder for what I'd found this morning. My precious Acheron was gone and in his place was a man who wanted nothing to do with me.

The worst part was, I couldn't even blame him for it. This was all so unfair. He should be in his royal apartments with servants at his beck and call.

Instead he was locked into a nightmare that neither of us could release him from. Surely this wouldn't be his life. Surely Acheron was meant for more than this.

Yet how could I deny what I saw? He was right. People only wanted one thing from him. And unless Father was willing to protect him, Catera was better than nothing.

My little brother was a whore. It was time that I realized the truth.

August 23, 9529 BC

The day had dawned with the most wretched of meetings. I'd been told that my father and his senators had decided to try and placate the god Apollo with a human sacrifice.

Me.

Ever since war had broken out between Greece and Atlantis, the Greek kings had been trying to think of some way to stave it off. But the Apollites who ruled Atlantis hated us and were determined to make the whole of Greece nothing more than an Atlantean province.