As if he had a choice?

At least this time, she put him back in his bed. But he was still bleeding from her dinner. Sighing, he got up to tend the wound.

"You're the only male she's ever had in her temple . . . besides my father."

Acheron spun around to see Satara standing near his bed. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to meet the man who would make Artemis risk everything."

He held his breath in sharp panic. "She would destroy us both if she knew you were here."

Satara shrugged nonchalantly. "She doesn't pay attention to the human realm. Trust me."

Acheron didn't move as she crossed the short distance between them.

Frowning, she studied him as if he were some deformed curiosity. "You are beautiful. Perhaps I'd risk my godhood for you too." She reached to touch his face.

Acheron caught her hand. "You need to leave."

"I would be a kinder lover to you than Artemis is."

As if he needed that.

"Look," Satara said firmly. "I can tell by your eyes that you're a demigod like me-the fact that your blood sustains her is proof of that. And I saw how Artemis treated you. I promise you, I wouldn't be so callous. Not to mention that with the powers I have, you and I could take hers. Imagine, two demigods with the power of a god. We would be invincible."

"There's no such thing as invincible. There's always something that flaws every being no matter how powerful they are. A weakness . . . You recognize me as Artemis's. Someone will know yours and they'll find mine. Right or wrong, I pledged myself to her and I will not back out on my word."

She sneered at him as if he were mentally defective. "Then you're a fool."

"I've been called worse."

She shook her head. "And you're content to be her lapdog?"

No he wasn't. But what choice did he have? "Again, I gave her my word and I will not be a liar."

She snorted in derision. "Then I'm sorry I misjudged you. However, I find myself in a bit of a quandary. If she ever finds out about this, she'll kill me, niece or not. But since you appear to be a man of your word, do I have your oath that you'll never tell Artemis what I've said today?"

"I don't like plotting another's downfall, not even yours. That being said, if you ever go after Artemis, then I will tell her what you've done. So long as she's safe, you're safe. I swear it."

She cocked her head as if baffled by his threat. "You're bartering with me to protect the same sow who would sooner beat you than treat you with the same loyalty you show her?"

Acheron shrugged. "I'm protecting my best friend. Right or wrong. I will stand by her."

Satara shook her head. "You and I have an accord then. I only hope you find her worth your loyalty."

So did he. But like Satara, he somehow doubted it.

With one last warning glare, Satara left him.

Acheron raked a hand through his hair as he tried to sort this out. So Artemis had as many people plotting her demise as his father. Damn. What was it about power that made everyone covet it so? Why couldn't people be content with what they had? Why must family and friends turn on each other over something so insanely innocuous? Something that in the long run didn't matter at all . . .

When love was shown to someone how could they let greed and selfishness spoil it? He just didn't understand that.

Love was so pure and innocent when given, especially unconditionally. Why couldn't those who received it see it for the beautiful gift it was? Why must they use it as a tool to hurt the one who gave it?

As Artemis did with him.

As Styxx with his father.

It was why he loved his nephew so. Apollodorus asked for nothing more than attention and when he hugged and gave a sloppy kiss to the cheek it was pure, joyful love. There was no subterfuge. No giving in order to get something back.

Why couldn't the world be like that?

Then again, who was he to ask those questions? His own mother had been incapable of showing even the most basic compassion toward him.

Love, unfortunately, was a weakness squandered on those who didn't deserve it.

Acheron grabbed the wine bottle from his table and uncorked it. There wasn't much solace here, but some was infinitely better than none. The gods knew he couldn't find solace anywhere else. Maybe he should have taken Satara up on her offer.

But what price would she have exacted? There was always a price for everything in life. For that wisdom, he could almost thank Estes.

Nothing in this world ever came freely.

Nothing.

"Acheron?"

He tensed at the sound of Artemis's voice. She was nowhere to be seen. But, he could feel her like a whisper on his soul.

She manifested behind him. "I'm sorry, Acheron. I shouldn't have treated you that way."

"Then why did you?"

Still invisible, she nuzzled his shoulder. "I'm afraid and I let my fear direct me."

"You're a goddess."

"I'm one of many and not as powerful as others. Do you know what they do to a goddess when they strip her of her powers? They cast her to earth to exist among the humans who abuse and mock her. Is that what you'd have for me?"

Why not? It was what she would have for him.

Unfortunately, he wasn't that cruel. "No. I only want what's best for you, Artie. But I'm tired of your taking everything out on me. I'm not a mindless doll you can beat when you're frustrated."

She materialized so that he could see the sincerity in those beautiful green eyes. "I know and I'm trying. I really am. Just be impatient with me."

"Impatient?"

She frowned. "That's the wrong word, isn't it? I don't know why I mix them up sometimes."

These moments when she allowed herself to be vulnerable were the ones that endeared her to him. They were the ones that had allowed him to love her.

Cupping her face in his hands, he gave her a tender kiss.

Artemis sighed as a wave of relief went through her. She loved him so much and yet she was so terrified of what loving him meant. She truly didn't want to hurt him ever. He was the only person she could be herself around. With other gods she had to be fierce and defensive and with mortals she had to be divine and intolerant.

Acheron was the one person who allowed her to laugh. He was the only one who held her and made her feel warm inside. But the problem was, whenever she opened herself up she felt the coldness inside him and knew that even though he was loyal to her, she didn't make him happy. That hurt the most. The pain inside him that she couldn't alleviate made her want to lash out in anger and hurt him for not being as open with her as she was with him.

Why couldn't he feel what she did?

Even now there was a reservation in his touch. A hesitation and she didn't understand why.

How could she make him love her the way he had when they first met?

She wanted to punish him for not loving her like she loved him. To make him beg her for her love. But how?

Pulling back, her gaze went to his neck and she cringed at what she'd done to him while she'd fed-it was something Apollo would have done to her. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Acheron held his breath at words that had been said to him so many times. Just once couldn't someone think of that before they damaged him?

"I'm fine." But the truth was, he wasn't. He'd never been all right with the pain. He'd merely grown used to it.

She brushed the hair back from his face. "You look so tired. I shouldn't have taken so much blood from you." She tugged him toward the bed. "You should rest."

True. There was no telling what horrors would be there for him on the morrow. Another gelding or beating, or just the emotional punching that Artemis excelled at.

He couldn't wait.

"Will you come to me tomorrow?" he asked again, desperate to not be alone while the whole world lavished well wishes on his twin brother.

Artemis hesitated. She wanted to come, but Apollo would be here for Styxx's celebration. She had to be careful. Because they were twins and gods, he could sense whenever she was near. If he felt her, he'd come seeking her and that could very well cost Acheron his life. "You know I have a festival. How can I miss it?"

He looked away and the hurt she felt from him sliced through her own heart.

"I'll visit the next day."

Acheron held his emotions in check. "I'll look forward to it then."

"Are you being sullen with me?"

"No." He was hurt. "I hope you have a good festival."

Artemis raked her hand through his hair. Will you think of me while I'm gone?"

"I always do."

She leaned down to kiss his cheek. "You always make me feel so special."

And she always made him feel like shit. She tucked her arm under his so that she could take his hand. He held it to his heart and let out a long sigh.

As he did so, a bad feeling went through him. Something was going to happen tomorrow. He could feel it with every part of him. Whatever it was, he was certain would change him and Artemis forever.

Akri di diyam.

June 23, 9527 BC

Acheron sat on the railing of his balcony completely drunk in the darkness as he watched the elaborately dressed guests arriving for the birthday party in the palace below. His back was pressed against the building while his legs were stretched out before him in a precarious balance. He wasn't sure how much he'd imbibed at this point.

Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to kill him. But if he were lucky, he might yet tumble from his perch to the rocks a hundred feet below and die horribly there.

That would definitely fuck up his brother's birthday celebration. For the first time in weeks, he laughed at the thought of Styxx dropping dead in front of the gathered nobles and dignitaries.

It would serve them right.

"It's my birthday too," he shouted, knowing no one could hear him. Even if they could, they wouldn't care.

Acheron turned his head and flinched as pain cut through him. He hated the fact that Artemis alone could give him so much anguish. He'd been so careful to shield himself from the callousness of others. But Artemis cut him on a level no one else could touch.

And like everyone else, she didn't care how much she hurt him.

Then again, he should be grateful. At least this year he wasn't celebrating the anniversary of his birth in prison . . .

Or a stew.

Ever alone. Even when he was in a crowd, surrounded by people, he was alone.

Truthfully, he was tired of it. No one wanted him. The only reason his so-called family cared whether he lived or died was because if he died, their beloved Styxx died too.

"I've had enough."

Even though he was only one and twenty, he was as tired as an old man. He'd lived beyond his years and wanted no more pain. No more loneliness.

It was time to end it.

The voices he heard in his head were louder now. They were calling him home . . .

Acheron stood up on the railing. The winds from below rushed up over him, fanning his hair out as he stared down at the black sea that beckoned him like a lover. He dropped his goblet and watched as it tumbled down below, vanishing from his sight.

One step.

No pain.

Everything would end.

"It's time," he breathed. There was no one here to stop him now. No Ryssa to pull him back. No father to tie him down and prevent it. No Estes to call for a physician.

Freedom.

Closing his eyes, he let go and stepped off.

Fear and relief whipped through him as he plummeted through the weightless air. In a moment, he'd have his long-sought-after peace.

Suddenly, something hard struck his stomach. Acheron gasped at the pain. He opened his eyes out of reflex.

Instead of falling, he was now rising, away from the sea. The sound of the waves crashing against rocks was replaced by the heavy fluttering of giant wings. He turned to see a female demon holding him. Just as the oracle had said.

"Let me go!" he shouted, trying to free himself.

She didn't. Not until she'd returned him to the balcony where he'd been.

Acheron staggered back as she perched on the railing and watched him closely. She had long straight black hair that fell over skin marbled white and red. Her eyes glowed in the darkness, white irises, surrounded by vivid red. Like her hair, her wings and horns were black.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice filled with venom.

"Akri should be more careful," she whispered kindly. "Had Xiamara been a moment later, you would have died."

"I wanted to die."

She cocked her head in a gesture that reminded him of a bird. "But why, akri?" She looked over her shoulder to where the people were still arriving. "So many come to celebrate your human birth."

"They don't come for me."

Xiamara frowned at him. "But you are the prince. Heir."

He laughed bitterly. "I'm heir to shit and prince of nothing."

"Nay. You are Apostolos, son of Apollymi. Revered by all."

"I am Acheron, son of no one. Revered only within the confines of a bedroom."

She stepped slowly down before him. Her wings tucked themselves around her lithe body. "You don't remember your birth. I understand. I was sent here by your mother with her gift for you."

He was trying to follow her words, but his mind was too numbed by drink. The demon was insane. She must have him confused with someone else. "My mother is dead."

"The human queen, yes. But your real mother, the goddess Apollymi, is alive and wishes you all of her love. I am her most faithful servant, Xiamara, and I am here to protect you as I've protected her."

Acheron shook his head. He was drunk. Hallucinating. Maybe he'd already died.

"Get away from me."

The demon didn't. Before he could escape, she placed a small orb to his heart.

Acheron screamed out as pain tore through him. Never in his life had he felt anything like this, and given the tortures they'd put him through, that said much. It was as if there was poisonous fire in his veins, ripping through his entire body.

From the center of his chest where the orb rested, his skin changed from tawny to a marbled blue . . .

As the pain and color unfurled through him, images and voices screamed out, piercing his eardrums. Scents assaulted his nostrils. Even his clothes burned against his skin. He fell to the ground and curled up into a ball as every sense he had was assailed.

"You are the god Apostolos. Harbinger and son of Apollymi the Destroyer. Your will is the will of the universe. You are the final fate of all . . ."

Acheron kept shaking his head in denial. No. It couldn't be. "I am nothing. I am nothing."

The demon lifted his head. "Why are you not happy? You are a god now."

Fury rode him hard as he grabbed her. He didn't understand his powers or anything else that was happening to him, but all the years of his life, all the degradations and horrors tore through him. Those he let travel from his mind into hers.

The demon cried out as she slung her head back. "Ni! This was not supposed to happen to you, akri. Not this . . ."

He grabbed her and forced her gaze to meet his. "It was bad enough when they thought me the human son of a god. Can you imagine what they'll do to me now? Take these powers away from me."

"I cannot. They are yours by birthright."

Acheron fell back, banging his head against the stone floor. "No!" he shrieked. "No! I don't want this. I only want to be left alone."

Xiamara tried to embrace him.

Acheron pushed her away. "I want nothing from you. You've done enough damage to me."

"Akri-"

"Out of my sight!"

Her eyes glowed with reluctance. "Your will is my own." The orb she'd held against him appeared as a necklace about his neck. "If you need me, akri, call and I will come."

Acheron pressed his hand against his skull that ached and throbbed with new voices and sensations. He felt as if he were going mad and perhaps he was. Perhaps the cruelty had finally shattered his sanity.

He heard the demon leave as unknown voices whispered and shouted through his mind. It was as if he could hear the entire world at once. He knew every thought, every wish, every fear.

His breathing ragged, he wanted an escape from it. He snatched at the necklace, but it wouldn't break. Instead, it glowed in his palm.

Crying out, he wanted to jump again. Unfortunately, he couldn't even stand. He was so dizzy. So ill . . .

What had they done to him now?

Apollymi paced the small courtyard in Kalosis, waiting for Xiamara's return.

"Where's the Simi's matera?"

She turned slightly to see Xiamara's youngest child in the doorway. Named for her mother, Xiamara, Simi-which was Charonte for baby-was almost three thousand years old and yet she looked no older than a four-year-old human child. Unlike humans and gods, Charonte demons were very slow to mature.

Apollymi knelt down and held her arms out for Simi. "She's not back yet, sweeting. Soon."

Simi pouted before she ran to her and threw her arms around Apollymi's neck. She put one small thumb into her mouth and buried her other hand deep in Apollymi's hair.

Apollymi closed her eyes as she hugged the small demon. How she wished she could have held her own son like this. Just once. Instead, she'd contented herself with lavishing her love on Xiamara's simi while she waited for her son to grow old enough to free her.

Simi laid her head on Apollymi's shoulder while Apollymi sang to her. "Why is akra sad?"

"I'm not sad, Simi. I'm anxious."

"Is anxious like when the Simi eats too much and her stomach hurts?"

Apollymi smiled and kissed the top of her head. "Not exactly. It's when you can't wait for something to happen."

"Ooo like when the Simi is hungry and she's waiting on her matera to feed her."

"Something like that."

Apollymi felt a movement in the air. She looked to the shadows to see the outline of Xiamara's body. For a full minute, she couldn't move as she waited for her best friend to join her.

But there was a hesitancy to Xiamara that made her heart stop. "What is it?"

Xiamara held her hands out for Simi who gratefully went to her mother. The demon held her daughter as tears fell down her cheeks.

Apollymi felt her own eyes mist as fear gripped her. "Xi? Tell me."

She clenched her eyes closed while she continued to rock her daughter. "I don't know how to tell you, akra."

The more she hesitated, the more fraught with worry Apollymi was. "Is he not well? I'm still a prisoner here so I know he lives."

"He lives."

"Does he not . . . love me?"

Xiamara shook her head before she set Simi down. "Go find your sister, Simi. I need to speak with akra alone."

Sucking her thumb, Simi skipped away from them.

When Xiamara faced her, Apollymi felt the blood drain from her cheeks. "What aren't you telling me?"

Xiamara sniffed back her tears before she placed her hand on Apollymi's shoulder and transferred the images Apostolos had given her. Disbelief and horror racked her as Apollymi saw what had been done to her child.

Those emotions gave way to a fury so profound, all she could do was scream. The sound of it echoed through the Palace of the Dead all of the way up to Katoteros where the rest of the gods made their home.

All activity stopped as the other Atlantean gods heard the sound of utmost heartache.

One by one, they turned to face Archon whose features blanched.

"Is she free?" Epithymia, the goddess of desire, asked.

Archon shook his head. "She'd be here already if she were free. No. Something else has happened. For now, we're safe." At least he hoped so . . .

Apollymi staggered away from Xiamara as image after image branded itself into her mind. What the humans had done to her son . . .

"I will kill them all," she growled through clenched teeth. "Everyone who laid a hand to him will die in flames, begging for my mercy and I will have none for them. None!" She looked up at Xiamara. "And Archon will know the full weight of my wrath. There is nothing inside me for him now."

Xiamara tucked her black wings around herself. "But Apostolos refuses to accept what's his. He refuses me."

"Go to him anyway, Xi. Comfort him and help him understand what he has to do. Tell him that when he comes to me all will be made right."

"I will try, akra."

Acheron lay in the darkness of his room, trying to breathe as he shook from the pain of his overwhelmed senses. Suddenly, he heard a soft, gentle voice in his head that drowned it all out. It was truly the most beautiful sound he'd ever known.

His breathing eased along with the fading pain.

"I am with you now, Apostolos."

"Who are you?"

"That is the voice of your mother."

He squinted in the dark to see the demon kneeling beside him. He curled into a ball, away from her. "I have no mother. She cast me aside when I was born."

"Ni, akri," the demon said softly. "I was the one who took you from your mother's arms while she wept in fear for you. Your mother, Apollymi, hid you in the human realm to protect you from the gods who wanted you dead. I swear to you on my life. Neither of us ever meant for you to be harmed. You were supposed to be raised as a prince. Pampered. Beloved. None of this should have happened to you."

He found that impossible to believe. "I don't understand. Why do the gods want me dead?"

"It was prophesied that you would be the end of the Atlantean gods. But you have to understand how much your mother loves you. She risked her life and defied the other gods to save you and keep you hidden until you were old enough to use your powers to fight them. Even now she sits imprisoned, wanting you to come to her. Free her, Apostolos and she will make right every wrong ever done to you."

"Make it right how?"

"She will destroy everyone who ever harmed you." The demon stroked his hair like the mother she described. "You are the most loved of any child ever born. Every day I have sat with your mother while she wept for your loss and ached to have you with her. Come home with me, Apostolos. Meet your mother."

He wanted to. And yet . . . "How do I know I can trust you?"

"Why would I lie?"

Everyone lied, especially to him. "For any number of reasons."

Xiamara. They come. Leave him quickly!

The demon shrank back from his bed. "The gods can't find me with you or they'll know who and where you are. Listen to your mother's voice and I'll return as soon as I can. Stay hidden, precious one." She vanished instantly.

Acheron lay alone, listening to the voices that tangled inside him. He heard laughter and tears, curses and screams.

Until his mother's voice soothed him again. He focused on that single tone and closed his eyes as it drove away all the other voices that made his head throb.

Had the demon been telling the truth? Dare he believe for one moment that he was the beloved son of anyone?

Surely it was preposterous.

He cupped the necklace in his hand and studied it. Some kind of stone, it appeared milky and iridescent. Then he glanced to where his slave's mark had been branded into his palm.

It was gone now without a single trace. How could this be?

I'm a god who was a slave . . .

Not just any slave. The lowest of all.

Acheron covered his eyes with his hand as shame overwhelmed him. And as he lay there, images tore through him . . . he saw the past, the present and the future through the experiences of thousands of people. He could hear their hopes and fears. Hear the very essence of the universe.

For the first time, he saw those who had it worse than he did. Those who seemed to have it better. The screams of mothers who'd lost their children. Children who had no parents. Beggars and kings . . .

Now he understood what Artemis had meant when she said she paid no attention to the human world. It was overwhelming. Horrifying. All these people who needed help and as he imagined helping them, he saw numerous outcomes play out in his mind.

But the one thing he couldn't see was his own life.

Or Ryssa's.

Not even Artemis. Why? It made no sense. As if any of this could possibly make sense. Acheron laughed at the absurdity of it all.

Opening his eyes, he realized that he was no longer on the ground. He was hovering over it. He gasped, then fell back to the floor. Pain shot through him as his skin again marbled to blue. His fingernails turned black and grew long . . .

Something wasn't right. His body was now alien to him. He stared at the marbled skin, trying to understand why it would be such a color.

How could he hide this from his family? Do you want to? A sadistic laugh went through him as he imagined the look on his "father's" face as he told him who and what he was.

"I'm a god."

Not half, but full-blooded. One with a bounty on his head, with an entire pantheon out to kill him. It was ridiculous. It defied belief, yet here he was . . . blue.

Acheron tried to get up, but a wave of dizziness sent him back to his knees. He looked at his bed, wishing he could make it to it. The next thing he knew, he was under the covers.

His eyes widened as the full implication of what he was hit him. He was a god with the same powers as Artemis.

Or maybe not. How did god powers work?

"Acheron?"

He tensed at the sound of Ryssa's voice in the room with him. Glancing down, he saw that his skin was again normal and he was grateful that the blanket covered him completely. "Yes?"

"Are you ill?"

Technically no. He wasn't even drunk anymore. "I'm just resting."

He felt her sit beside him on the bed and tug at the blanket. "Will you look at me?"

Terrified of what might happen while she sat there, he uncovered his head.

She smiled. "I haven't seen you all day and wanted to give you this." She held a small box out to him.

Her gift made his throat tight. "Thank you." Returning her smile, he opened it to find a small medallion on a bracelet. It was the symbol of a sun with three lightning bolts piercing it. He frowned at the emblem that seemed eerily familiar.

"I know it's strange, but I saw it in the market and it made me think of you. The jeweler said it was a symbol of strength."

"It's Atlantean." The sun design was that of Apollymi . . . his mother.

I've made him sad. Why did I pick this one? Oh no . . .

He heard Ryssa's thoughts in his head.

"It's beautiful. Thank you."

She reached for it. "I can-"

He covered her hand with his. "I love it, Ryssa."

He's only saying that. I'm so sorry, Acheron. I didn't mean to pick out something Atlantean. How could I have been so stupid?

It was so disconcerting to hear her thoughts so clearly while she held a false smile in place.

"If you're sure . . ."

He nodded. "I'm sure. Thank you," he repeated.

I'm such a fool. Here I tried to make sure he had at least one gift and I've ruined it with my stupidity.

The sincere love he felt in those words brought tears to his eyes. His sister really did love him . . . more than he'd ever guessed.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "You mean everything to me, Ryssa. You know that, don't you?"

"I love you, Acheron." And I wish I could make this day as special as it should be for you. It's not fair that you're here alone.

"Ryssa!" Her father's shout was enough to make Acheron glare at the door.

Ryssa frowned at him. Dear gods, what's wrong with his eyes?

Acheron averted his gaze, scared of what they might look like now. His body was still normal, but what of his eyes?

His door slammed opened to reveal her father. "What are you doing here? It's time to toast your brother."

She stood up and lifted her chin. "I was giving my brother his gift."

"Don't you dare be impertinent. Your presence is required. Now."

"Go, Ryssa," Acheron breathed. "Your father wants you."

You godless whore.

Acheron laughed at the king's thoughts. If the man only knew . . .

The last word anyone could use to describe him was godless. He had gods coming for him out of the woodwork.

The king didn't move as Ryssa stepped past him. He stood in the doorway, glaring his anger at Acheron. "So you've finally given up calling me your father?"

Acheron shrugged. "Believe me, I know you're not my father. And I'm sure your son is waiting below to hear your most precious ode to him."