He wasn't there either.
But as I climbed up, I caught sight of him lying on his back on the sand with the waves rushing over him. My breath caught. He didn't appear to be moving at all.
Soaking wet, he lay in the surf with his eyes closed.
Terrified of the sight, I scrambled down and rushed to his side. Even before I reached him, I could see the pallor of his beautiful face.
"Acheron!" I shouted with fearful tears in my eyes. I was terrified he was dead.
To my instant relief, he opened his eyes to meet my gaze. Still he didn't move.
"What are you doing?" I asked as I sank to my knees beside him. My gown was completely wet and ruined now, but I didn't care. My vanity didn't matter at all. Only my brother did.
He clenched his eyes shut before he spoke in a tone so quiet I could barely hear it over the surf. "The pain isn't so bad if I lie here."
"What pain?"
He reached out to take my hand. His own trembled to such an extent that it returned my fear to me tenfold. "The voices in my head. They're always excruciating on this day, every year."
"I don't understand."
"They keep saying that it's the anniversary of my birth and that I should come to them. But Apollymi is screaming at me to hide and not listen. The louder she shouts, the louder they shout. It's. Unbearable. I just want them to go away. I'm going mad, aren't I?"
Clutching his hand, I wiped his wet hair from his brow and realized that he hadn't shaved. A full day's growth of beard stubbled his chin and cheeks-something he never allowed. Acheron was always impeccably groomed and dressed. "Today isn't the anniversary of your birth. You were born in June."
"I know, but they scream just the same. I fell trying to reach the rocks and discovered that in the sea the voices are muffled."
That made no sense to me. "Why would that help?"
"I don't know. But it does."
A wave rushed to shore, completely covering him. He didn't move at all even though it knocked me sideways. I straightened myself and watched as he coughed up water. Still he made no move to leave the sea.
"You'll catch a chill lying here."
"I don't care. I would rather be sick than hear them yelling at me so loudly."
Desperate to help soothe him, I moved to his head and sat cross-legged on the ground before I pulled his head into my lap. "Is this any better?"
He nodded as he again laced his fingers with mine and led my hand to his heart where he held it. By the tight grip, I knew his head was still aching unmercifully.
We didn't speak for hours as he lay there with my hand on his chest. My legs lost all feeling, but I didn't care. We were gone so long from the house that Petra came out to check on me. She was as confused by Acheron's explanation as I was, but she dutifully left us alone and brought food and wine.
Acheron was in too much pain to eat even though I forced him to nibble at some of the bread.
By nightfall, the voices quieted enough that he was able to push himself up. He was unsteady on his feet.
"Are you all right?" I asked in concern.
"Just a little dizzy from the voices. But they're not so loud now." He draped one arm over my shoulders and together we made our way back to his room.
I had Petra draw him a hot bath while I wrapped a towel around him. He was still pale, his features pinched.
Maia came running in with two glasses of warmed milk. "I was worried about you, Acheron," she admonished.
"I'm sorry, bit. I didn't mean to concern you."
"Are you feeling better?"