Having eaten a large breakfast on the ship, I wasn't hungry. I could feel Acheron's stare, but he still kept himself covered by his cloak. "Would you care for a bite?" I asked, handing the food to Acheron.
As the herio started forward, he tore into the cloth like a starved animal. It wasn't until he moved to eat that I finally saw a glimpse of his forearm.
There was blood encrusted around the gold band on his wrist. But he didn't seem to notice as he shoved chunks of bread into his mouth.
"Are you all right, Acheron?"
He only continued to eat ravenously.
When the bread was gone, he attacked the wineskin with the same fervor. It was several minutes before he lowered the skin and let out what sounded like a relieved breath.
I reached for his injured arm.
He didn't move as I sat forward and pulled the band back to uncover a nasty wound there. As I looked at his bloodied wrist, I noticed more bruises on his forearm.
And then I saw his face.
I gasped in alarm. Before I could think of what I was doing, I jerked the cowl down. His skin was still that dull, ashen gray, his hair lank and matted.
But it was his face that held me transfixed. Dark purple circles ran underneath both eyes as if he hadn't slept at all. His lips were chapped, raw and bleeding. Both of his cheeks were bruised as if someone had slapped him repeatedly. One eye was red from broken blood vessels.
His clothes were torn and dirty.
"What happened to you?"
He gave me a true, insolent glare that cut through me. "I'm a trained tsoulus, Idika, that you left unprotected for four days. What do you think they did to me?"
Horrified, I called for Boraxis as Acheron replaced his cowl.
The herio stopped immediately. Boraxis came down and opened the door. "Yes, Highness?"
"Take me back to the ship."
"May I ask why, Highness?"
"They . . . they . . ." I couldn't even bring myself to say it. "I want everyone who touched Acheron to be put into chains!"
Boraxis frowned.
I pulled the cowl down again and showed Boraxis Acheron's battered face. "Look what they did to him."
Acheron met Boraxis's gaze and something strange passed between them.
"Highness," Boraxis said in a low, calm tone, "I'll take you back if you wish it, but only Acheron's rightful owner can demand restitution for his damage."
I ground my teeth at him. "He is not a slave."
"He's marked as a slave, Highness. That's all that matters."
"So that gives them the right to abuse him?"
"And again, Highness, I repeat, only his rightful owner can demand restitution. All the law will give you for what they did is financial compensation for his use. No free man will be punished for using a slave."
"A slave can be beaten for hurting him like this! And I want it so."
"Highness, a slave wouldn't have dared touch him like that."
I gulped. "What are you saying?"