My father had taken him?
Of course he had. I should have realized that myself. No doubt he'd sent his men the same day he'd overheard the senators talking. What kind of fool was I not to check on that?
But then I'd been too busy thinking about my impending doom with Apollo. Shame on me for not putting Acheron first. There was no telling what they had done to him.
My only comfort was the knowledge that father couldn't kill him. Not without killing Styxx too.
Catera picked up my wrapped present and handed it back to me.
I thanked her out of habit and left.
Acheron had to be somewhere in the palace. No matter what it took, I was going to find him and get him out.
June 23, 9529 BC
It was midday before I finally found Acheron's whereabouts. I knew better than to ask my father for his location-that would only invite his anger toward me, and learn me nothing I didn't already know, so I resorted to bribing the palace guards.
Even that was easier said than done since most of them knew nothing at all and those who did were too afraid of my father's wrath to speak of it.
But at last, I had the answer. My brother had been taken to the lowest part of the palace, beneath the foundation where they kept the worst sort of criminals: rapists, murderers, traitors . . .
And one young prince whose father hated him for no reason other than he'd been born.
I didn't want to go down there where you could hear the cries and moans of the damned, where you could smell their rotting flesh and torture. It was only the knowledge that Acheron was there that made me find the courage I needed to visit.
I was quite sure that if he'd been given a choice he wouldn't have been there either.
I walked down the twisting corridors, pulling my cloak ever closer to me for warmth. It was so damp and cold here. Dark. Unforgiving. Not even my torch could banish the dankness.
As I passed the cells, those who could see the light called out for my mercy. However it wasn't my mercy they needed to be free. It was my father's.
Unfortunately, he had none to spare.
The captain of the guards led me to a small door at the very end of the corridor, but he refused to open it. I could hear the sound of water dripping from inside, but nothing else. There was a fetid stench permeating the air and choking me. I had no idea what caused it. Truly this was a frightening place.
"Just hand over the key to me. I swear no one will ever know."
The guard's face paled. "I cannot, Your Highness. His majesty made it clear that anyone who opens this door will be sentenced to death. I have children to feed."
I understood his fear and had no doubt whatsoever that my father would indeed kill him for the affront. The gods knew, he'd killed men for far less. So I thanked him and waited for him to leave me alone before I knelt on the cold, damp floor and opened the small trap door that had been designed to pass food from the hallway into the cell.
"Acheron?" I called. "Are you in there?"
I lay flat on the filthy floor to peer through the small opening, but could see nothing. Not a single bit of flesh or clothing or light.
Finally, I heard something rustle ever so slightly.
"Ryssa?" His voice was weak and scratchy, but it filled me with joy.
He was alive.
I reached my hand through the opening as an offering to him. "It is I, akribos."
I felt his hand take mine. It shook ever so slightly. His fingers were thin, skeletal, his grip gentle.
"You shouldn't be here," he said in that raspy tone. "No one is allowed to speak to me."
I closed my eyes at his words and drew a ragged breath. I wanted to ask him if he were well, but I knew better. How could he be all right living in a small cell like an animal?