Styxx

"Styxx ... it will be fine. Trust me. You've spent too many birthdays with people who don't love you. The baby and I want to be here for this one."



Closing his eyes, Styxx wanted to curse her love for him. But how could he? It was too rare a commodity for him to spurn it. "Fine, but promise me that we will leave as soon as it's done. We will go to Egypt and stay there where your family can protect you until after the baby's born."



"If that is what you want then I'm agreeable. But it's not necessary."



"For my sanity, it is."



"All right. For the sake of your sanity." She kissed his cheek again.



He left her to dress and only then did Bethany feel a twinge of his fear.



But she dismissed it. After his birthday, she intended to drink Ma'at's serum and become fully human. In four days, they would be headed to Egypt and no one would ever be able to harm them again.



She would put his fears to rest and all would be right in the world.



June 22, 9527 BC



Styxx raked his hands through his hair as the voices of a thousand people screamed in his head. Because of the number of people his father had invited, he'd been in pain all day. So much so that his nose had poured blood throughout the morning. Honestly, he couldn't stand it.



The only person he wanted to see wasn't here yet, and a part of him hoped that Bethany would heed his fear and not show up at all.



His only saving grace was the fact that neither Acheron nor Ryssa had come near him. Rather they were sequestered in her rooms, no doubt wishing for his brutal demise.



Perhaps he should assign more tasters for his food tonight....



Smoothing his hair down, he returned his hated golden-leaf crown to his head.



Even worse than the feeling of dread that refused to go away was the grief he had over the absence of Galen. This was the first time in over a decade that he hadn't spent at least part of his birthday with the old man.



"You want an award for being born? What's wrong with you, boy? The world don't give out awards for births." For five years, that had been Galen's rant.



Tears choked him as he remembered the next anniversary.



His father had been a complete ass as Styxx had been forced to listen to court sessions all morning while trying to hide a vicious nosebleed. As for his "gift" from his father, it'd been a "personal" donation to the city for a monument to honor the king.



By the time Styxx had gone to practice, with his mother's and Ryssa's insults ringing in his ears, he'd been completely deflated and morose.



Until he'd gone in to change his clothes. Sitting on the shelf had been a pair of black and bronze vambraces that matched his armor.



Awed by the sight, he'd assumed they were put there by mistake.



"They don't bite, boy. Try them on. See if they fit."



Frowning, he'd turned to see Galen standing in the doorway with a wide grin on his face. "Who do they belong to?"



Galen had laughed. "You, Highness. They're my gift to you. Happy birthday, gios. I hope they always protect you in battle."



His eyes tearing from the memory, Styxx went to his chest and pulled them out. He wasn't sure who'd been prouder of them. Galen for the giving or him for the receiving. And they had served him well in battle.



"I miss you, Galen," he breathed, wishing he could see his mentor one more time.



But then he had a lot of regrets.



Sighing, he wrapped the vambraces back in their protective oiled cloth and tucked them in beside the wooden horse that Acheron wanted nothing to do with. He would give it to his own son to play with one day.



"Happy birthday, little brother," he whispered, knowing Acheron's perfect gift would be Styxx's head on a platter.



Suddenly, he heard a loud fanfare outside.



His rapid heartbeat pounded more pain through his head as he went to the windows to see who was arriving.



Bethany.



"I could strangle you for not listening to me." But the rest of him didn't agree with his brain. In spite of his common sense, he was thrilled she'd come.



He left his room to greet her and with every step, he prayed that she was right. That it was just his stupidity that made him dread this day so much.



June 23, 9527 BC



Bethany was laughing in bed with Styxx when she heard an ear-splitting scream that echoed through the ether, which only the gods and a few others could hear ... The horrified agony of utmost heartache. She knew the source of the sound in an instant.



Apollymi.



Had they finally found her son and killed him? That was the kind of grief that would explain it. Surely nothing else could warrant so much pain.



Styxx went rigid around her as if he'd heard it, too, but as a mortal, he shouldn't have any way to access those voices. Though he continued to be hard inside her, he was completely still in her arms.



"Are you all right?" she asked him.



He cursed under his breath. "Nosebleed."



It was the first time he'd had one while making love to her. He pulled back and left her to tend it.



She sat up and pulled the sheets to cover her.



After a few seconds, he returned to bed and sat down by her side, holding a cloth to his nose.



"Sorry, love. Really bad timing."



She sat up to brush her hand through his hair, which was finally long enough to have curls again. "I'm more worried about you. Have you any idea what caused it?"



Styxx fell quiet as he continued to hear the voice of a goddess in his head. It was one he'd heard many times while growing up. He didn't know her name, but when he'd been a small child, her voice had soothed him like a mother's lullaby.



Today, she was shrieking and furious, and he had no idea why. Worse, she was cursing and threatening him as if he'd done something to her.



I will find you and rip out your heart, you Greek whoreson! I'm coming for you and everything you hold dear. There is no place you can hide that I won't discover, and when I do, you will wish to your Greek gods that you had died at birth as you should have! How dare you not protect my son! I will bathe in your putrid entrails!



He had no idea what he'd done to deserve her hatred. Maybe it's not directed at you....



But it felt personal.



More than that, it felt like the same mood his mother had been in right before she'd stabbed him. And as Bethany brushed the hair back from his eyes, an image of Galen dying in his arms hit him like a vicious blow. Only this time, it was Bethany he saw dying.



"I need you to leave."



She froze instantly. "Excuse me?"



"Not permanently, akribos. You promised you'd go right after my banquet. Yet you're still here. I need you to get to Egypt as fast as you can so that your father and family can keep you safe for me."



"I don't want to leave you."



"I'll be right behind you. I'll probably catch up before you make it there."



Bethany hesitated. She started to tell him that she was a goddess and that he had no need to fear for her, but since she was giving it up in a few days to be with him, there was no need to mention it and risk his anger and condemnation. "I'm sure I'll be there first."



"Good. Now, please ... let's get you packed and out of here."



"Your nose is still bleeding. I can smell it."



"I've fought many battles with it bleeding worse than this. It's nothing. I'll be fine."



She curled up beside him with her belly resting against his ribs. Closing his eyes, Styxx savored the warmth of her there while his son kicked them both. She took his hand into hers and led it to her lips so that she could nibble his knuckles.



"You are the most important thing in my world, Styxx of Didymos, proud Ariclean prince. In my heart, I am your wife, and I need no contract or witness to validate it."



She placed his hand to her heart so that he could feel the soothing, strong beat of it. "In all my life, there has never been another man who has made me feel what I feel whenever I think of you. Your pleasure is my pleasure and your agony is a thousand times worse for me to bear than any I have ever felt on my own, because you are so much more important to me than I am. Every time you leave, I cannot breathe again until I know you're safe and back in my arms." She kissed his hand. "Against my wishes, I will go to please you, but know that I will live in absolute misery until I'm with you again." She bit his knuckle. "Don't make me wait, my love."



Realizing that she had started her Egyptian wedding vows by stating her devotion to him, and as such was asking him to marry her before she left, he pulled the cloth from his nose then brought her hand to his lips so that he could kiss her palm. "And you, sweet Bethany of Egypt, Princess of Thebes, are my kunosoura-"



"Your what?" She frowned. "Sorry, love. Not a native speaker and Greek is a very difficult language."



Laughing, he kissed her hand again then used the Egyptian word for the brightest star in the sky that soldiers and sailors used to navigate with at night to guide them to safety and home. "Thuban. On the worst day of my life, when I was lost and beyond hope or redemption, you came out of the darkest tempest unexpectedly. I was but an empty shell wandering the banks of the Phlegethon, trapped between Tartarus and the Fields of Punishment with nothing but reasons to die, and yet your kiss alone breathed life into my deadened heart and darkened soul. Until that moment when you first laid your gentle hand to my cheek, I knew nothing of kindness. Nothing of happiness. And absolutely nothing of love. That soft, tender touch that meant nothing to you, as it is in your nature to be thus, went far deeper than just my skin. It reached into the deadest part of me and set beating a heart I had never known existed. I can count every happy year of my life on one hand and all of them I owe to you. Without you, my precious Bethany, I have nothing. I am nothing. And all I ask is that you never send me back to the stygian hell you pulled me from. It was hard enough to suffer it before I knew you existed, but now that I know the face of Theia, I cannot go back to dwell in darkness alone. I need you, my love. Always."



He kissed her forehead. "You are not just my wife. You are what sustains me, and my only prayer is that I never bring even a shadow of hurt to your beautiful eyes or heart."



Bethany frowned as he placed a ring on her finger. "What is this?"



When he spoke, his voice was thick with pain. "It's the wedding ring Galen and I picked out for you right before he died."



Tears flowed down her cheeks as she smiled proudly. "And it will never leave my finger."



"And you will never leave my heart."



She pulled him into her arms and held him close. "How do you expect me to go when you speak to me like this? When I know how much pain you're in without me?"



He cupped her cheek. "Because you are taking the most important parts of me with you, Bethany.... My heart." He kissed her lips. "And my soul." He kissed her belly then he kissed away her tears. "Please, for my sanity. Every time in my life when things were going well, something horrific happened. I've already lost Galen. I cannot lose you and our son."



"All right. I will go. But not happily."



"And I will be counting down every beat of my heart until we're together."



Reluctantly, she left the bed and started dressing and packing.



His heart aching, Styxx helped her. In truth, he wanted to keep her by his side. But Thanatos was stalking him. He could feel the bastard's breath on his neck, and he knew if she stayed, she'd be caught in whatever storm was coming.



Too soon and not soon enough, he had her surrounded by men and on her way to Egypt. "I will leave tomorrow. I promise."



Bethany nodded. "I will be waiting for you. Do not tarry."



Styxx kissed her lips then held her hand to his heart while he kept his other hand on the area of her stomach where his son kicked. He was terrified of letting her go. Terrified he'd never see her again. But worse was the fear of her staying behind and being harmed because of his selfishness.



Smiling sadly, she breathed an Egyptian blessing in his ear. "May Ra be between you and harm in all the empty places where you walk."



He pressed her hand to his lips. "And I'd rather your grandfather walk with you and keep you safe every step of this journey."



She leaned down from her chariot to kiss his cheek. "Tomorrow."



"I will be hot on your heels. I swear." Styxx nodded to the driver, but he held her hand until they rolled too fast for him to keep pace.



As he watched her leave, it felt as if his heart was being ripped out of his chest. But he knew she had to go. It was the only hope they had.



June 24, 9527 BC



Styxx paused in his packing to glance around the palace he'd assumed would one day be his. In just a few hours, he'd be long gone from here and would hopefully never see it again.



Let Acheron or Ryssa have it, or share it happily for the rest of their lives.



I should feel something other than relief.



But he didn't. In truth, he couldn't get away from here fast enough.



As he was taking his laurel crown down to his father's office to leave it there, the front door opened and Acheron strode in with a confidence his brother had never before exhibited. Acheron normally skulked about like a beaten dog that didn't want to be seen by anyone.



Styxx frowned at the change, wondering what had caused it. Was his brother drunk?



Boldly, Acheron approached him with his chest puffed out. It was the kind of posturing soldiers had sometimes used when they wanted to dare Styxx to fight them. But those who had held that kind of stupidity had been quickly schooled that Styxx didn't play well with others, and most importantly ...



He didn't lose.



"Are you ill, brother?"



Acheron curled his lip. "Just sick of you, and the way you parade around like you own the world."



Styxx sighed heavily. If I only lived the life other people think I do. "I don't do that."



"Yes. You do. I see it every time I look at you."



His frown deepened as Styxx realized that he couldn't hear Acheron's thoughts anymore. How strange.



Not that it mattered. He had other things on his mind. Like getting the Hades out of here.



Styxx started for his father's study, but Acheron grabbed his arm.



"You fear me, don't you?"



Styxx bit back laughter at the ludicrous question. "No."



Acheron grabbed him again.



"Are you herbal, little brother?"



Laughing, Acheron shoved Styxx against the wall in the same manner as Apollo often did. Then he leaned to whisper in Styxx's ear. "I know you can't die, brother. Not unless I do. That means I can hold you down and cut out your heart over and over again and there's nothing you can do to stop me."



There, Acheron was wrong. The one thing Atlantis had taught him was how to fight against gods. But he wasn't in the mood to fight with his brother.



Not today.



"Is that really what you want to do?"



Acheron's hand tightened around his throat. "You're no better than me."



No shit. He'd never thought otherwise. "And you're no better than I am."



The hatred in those silver eyes seared him. But that wasn't what Styxx really saw. He saw the same bloodlust Acheron had held for him in Atlantis when his brother had helped Estes sell and torture him. Acheron had delighted in seeing him humiliated.



"You deserve it!"



His brother's angry voice still rang in his ears as his vision darkened.



"I have reached my majority, Styxx. Do you know what that means?"



"You can own property? Join the senate?"



Acheron's teeth elongated.



Styxx went cold as he finally understood all the bits and pieces of what had happened to him in Atlantis. Why he had held so much fascination for Archon who'd suspected this, but he'd held the wrong twin in custody....



"You're Apostolos."



Shock stole the hatred from Acheron's eyes. "How do you know that name?"



The two years he'd warred in Atlantis and the year he'd been with their gods passing him around had well schooled him on the knowledge of Apollymi's hidden son.



The Atlantean gods would give him anything for this information....



Anything.



Acheron's hand all but crushed his windpipe. "You tell anyone and I will kill you!"



Styxx laughed at the threat. "I don't want anything from you, brother. Except to be left the fuck alone." He broke Acheron's hold and ignored the pain it caused him. "I don't care what powers you think you hold, I can still beat you down."



"Acheron!" Ryssa gasped as she ran to his brother. "What are you doing?"



"We were talking. Right, Styxx?"



He rolled his eyes. "Sure."



Ryssa glared at Styxx then gently pulled Acheron away from him. "You know what Father would do if he caught you with him."



For the first time in his life, Styxx didn't begrudge his brother Ryssa's love. It made it easier for him to walk away from the entire family knowing Ryssa and Acheron had an unbreakable bond. "You two look after each other."



Ryssa paused on the stairs to give him a suspicious glower. "What's that supposed to mean?"



Could her tone be any more accusatory? "Nothing, Ryssa. Absolutely nothing."



Unwilling to deal with either of them, Styxx went to his father's study and placed his crown in the chest where his father kept his own. Intricately carved with images of the Fates, the gold chest was ancient in age. When he'd been a boy, he'd sometimes sneak into it to look at his father's ornate crown and imagine if he'd look so dignified wearing it as a man.



How long ago that seemed, and at the same time, it was yesterday. But sadly, neither crown would be a part of his future. And for that, he hated his brother and the Atlantean gods all the more.



To protect Acheron, Apollymi had thoroughly screwed up Styxx's life.



Damn them all!



But then the gods who'd been searching for Apostolos had been looking for a single child. Not twins. How ironic that Acheron had spent much of his life right under their noses while they tore the world apart trying to find him.



"I smell divinity on you, Greek. Whose byblow are you?" Archon's angry words as the god had tried to beat information out of him that Styxx hadn't been given still caused a shiver to run down his spine.



I should have recognized their voices when I met them. But then he'd heard so many different ones over the years that it was hard to break them apart and identify them when he didn't have a personal relationship with the thinker. Like the Atlantean gods, Styxx had assumed himself born of an Olympian. Why else would Athena and Apollo have taken an interest in him? He'd attributed it to nepotism.



Now, he suspected they had sensed whatever had attracted Archon and Asteros to him. Whatever Apollymi had done to protect her son must have lured them to him, too.



However, none of that mattered now. He had an Egyptian demigoddess to worry over and meet up with.



Closing the lid, he practically ran up to his room to collect his things and go. It'd already taken him longer to pack than he'd meant for it to.



It wouldn't be that long until nightfall. But he'd travel through it. They'd done many marches at night so as to hide their numbers and protect their troops. Plus it saved water not to travel during the heat of the day. The soldiers and horses had a lot less exhaustion.



Styxx turned to leave then froze as Apollo appeared in his room. He cursed under his breath at the god's inconvenient timing. "What?"



Apollo let out a bitter laugh. "Tone, prince. You still haven't learned the proper tone."



Grinding his teeth, Styxx really wanted to punch the bastard. "Aren't you bored with me yet?"



Apollo gave him a lopsided grin. "If you were your mewling, obsequious sister, yes. I'd be bored with you. But it's the fact that you continue to fight me even after all I've done to punish you for it that fascinates me. Most humans learn their lessons.... You don't. Why is that?"



Styxx reached for his saddlebags. "I'm dumber than most."



Moving faster than Styxx was prepared for, Apollo grabbed him and turned him around so that Styxx could see himself in the mirror with Apollo standing behind him. The Olympian didn't touch Styxx. Rather he locked gazes in the mirror. "If only you were, I could forgive you. But it's knowing how intelligent you are that fascinates me." Apollo touched his cheek.



Styxx jerked away, but Apollo refused to let him leave their reflection. He yanked Styxx back to the mirror.



"See what I mean? Why do you continue to fight me?"



"I have no stomach for men in general and you in particular. Your touch reviles me." How many times did he have to say it before Apollo got the message?



Apollo jerked Styxx against him. "And yet you're so beautiful ... even scarred as you are, I crave you."



Styxx cringed. "You gave your word to all that I was free."



"And I've never regretted anything more. Yield to me once ... just once.... Come to me as you would your betrothed, and bend to my will, and then I will leave you in peace. Forever."



Sure he would.



"I don't believe you."



Apollo tried to grab him, but Styxx caught his hand and jerked it away. It didn't deter the Olympian at all. He wrapped his arms around him and tried to kiss him. "I can't get you out of my mind. How many more people do I have to take from you before you bend to me?"



Styxx fought hard for his freedom. "You killed Galen?"



"Not personally, but yes. And I'll kill the rest if you don't give me what I want."



Styxx cried out as Apollo sank his fangs deep into his neck to feed.



The door to his room opened.



A sharp, feminine gasp froze him instantly. Eyes wide, Ryssa stared at them with horror etched into her fragile features. Styxx could only imagine the sight they made with Apollo's hand still pressed against his slave's brand on his groin and the god feeding from this neck.



Completely unperturbed, Apollo laughed and lifted his head then kissed Styxx's cheek while he cupped him in plain sight of his sister. "Would you care to join us, Ryssa?"



That set her off into one of her legendary shrieking fits as she began grabbing things in the room and hurling them at him and Apollo. Ducking the first clay vase, Styxx broke away from Apollo and glared at him.



Apollo sneered at Ryssa. "I am not putting up with this. I'll be back when you calm down." He flashed out of the room, leaving Styxx alone with the termagant.



She continued to scream out in a tone that rendered her words unintelligible as she sought to strip his room bare of projectiles.



"What in the name of Zeus is going on in here?" his father roared as he snatched the clay wine jug from her hand before it became another pile of broken fragments on the floor.



Sobbing in hysteria and ignoring the question, Ryssa kept her fury concentrated solely on Styxx. "How dare you! You disgust me! I wish you were dead!" She whirled about and stormed from the room.



His father returned the jug to the table as Styxx pushed himself up from the floor. "What did you do to her?"



"Nothing, Father. I didn't do anything to her at all."



His father moved to go after her. But Ryssa met him at the door. Without a word to their father, she crossed the room with a tranquility that concerned him. Expecting her slap, Styxx caught her left hand as she tried to deliver it. But the moment he did, he felt something sink painfully into his abdomen.



Stunned, he stumbled back to see the large bloody knife she'd hidden in the folds of her gown.



She lunged to stab him again.



Styxx grabbed her wrist and held it tight as his father finally realized what was going on.



Instead of calling for the guards, his father pulled Ryssa back and took the knife out of her hand. "What have you done, daughter?"



Styxx's knees buckled as the room spun around. While it never felt good to be stabbed, gut wounds had to be the worst. Breathing raggedly, he lay down and tried to focus.



"He's sleeping with Apollo! Selfish bastard! He's taken everything from me! Everything!"



Flat on his back, Styxx felt a tear slide from the corner of his eye as pain racked him while his father comforted Ryssa on the other side of the room. In spite of the agony, he laughed in bitter amusement.



Every member of his family, except his father and Bethany, had stabbed him.



But I'm young still. There's plenty of time for that to change.



Blood rushed between his fingers as he applied as much pressure as he could to the wound. Yet it was hard. His hands were shaking and he felt like he was about to vomit.



Still his father ignored him while the king dealt with Ryssa's hysterics.



"Father?" he breathed.



"Oh dear gods ... Guards!" His father finally left Ryssa to check on him. "Fetch the physician!" Swallowing hard, his father started to touch Styxx's blood-covered hands then refrained. "Does it hurt much?"



No, it feels fucking wonderful. I live for my family to stab me.



Was the man insane? Of course it hurt. His sister had just tried to gut him.



"However much it hurts, it doesn't hurt enough for what he's done. He's humiliated me for the last time! I wish you could die like a normal person, you bastard! You've been nothing but misery to everyone since the day you were born. If you died tomorrow no one would miss you except that Egyptian whore you found. And even she wouldn't care for long. You're nothing!" She ran for him.



His father stood up to catch her before she reached Styxx again. As his father pulled her back, she spat in Styxx's face.



He wiped it away with the back of his scarred, bloodied hand.



Why didn't I leave here sooner?



He shouldn't have wasted five seconds of time on his brother. The gods knew Acheron wouldn't waste it on him. I should have left that damned crown in my room and been on my way to Egypt.



Maybe he could still ride later tonight. He just needed someone to stitch the wound. As Ryssa had pointed out, it wasn't like he could physically die from it. Though to be honest, he died a little inside every time they attacked him.



The physician gasped as he saw him on the floor. "Highness?"



Styxx opened his eyes. He moved his hands aside for the man to examine the gaping hole. The physician pulled Styxx's chiton up so that he could tend it.



The physician sucked his breath in sharply at the amount of damage. Mostly because on anyone else, the wound would be fatal. Blood loss wasn't the problem. But Styxx had seen enough injuries like this in battle to know the inevitable outcome. Within a few days, the soldier always died in extreme and utter agony. Because of that, the soldiers with these wounds were often killed just to put them out of their misery. It was something that still haunted him. But during war they couldn't afford to waste their limited supplies on someone who wouldn't live anyway, and it was cruel to let them die slowly in agony when there was no help or hope for them.



His father finally returned. The horror in his eyes confirmed Styxx's dire prediction.



"It's bad, Majesty," the physician said as he worked to stop the blood flow. "Most don't survive a wound like this."



His father sank to his knees by his side. Tears welled in his eyes. "Styxx?"



He bit back a groan. "I'll live, Father. I've had worse in battle."



The physician appeared skeptical.



Styxx brushed his hand across the scars he bore. "Trust me."



For the first time, the physician nodded. "So it appears, Highness. I need to stitch this and I can't give you wine to drink."



Styxx turned his head toward the chest by the window. "Bring me that."



His father frowned as the physician complied. "What is in it?"



Styxx didn't answer as the physician returned with it and Styxx dug out the Morpheus root he hadn't used since Bethany had come back into his life. "Do you know how to prepare this?" he asked the old bald man.



"You heat it, but I don't know how much to use."



Styxx pulled out the right amount and handed it off to him so that he could begin the preparations while his father watched with an even deeper frown. Hissing in pain, Styxx clenched his teeth. "It's a drug, Father. One that won't take the pain away, but it'll make me not care that I feel it."



"How do you know about such things?"



Your perverted brother.



The words hovered on his lips, and were hard to bite back. His father had been blind to Estes, and while it angered him, what good would it do to scream at his father over his abuse now?



He'd killed the bastard and the eternal damage was done. No need to worsen it.



Luckily, the physician returned. Styxx inhaled the herbs and gave them a few minutes to take effect before he nodded at the man to start closing the wound.



Trying to distract himself, Styxx locked gazes with his father whose countenance was a mask of total disbelief.



"It dawns on me that I know very little about your life and even less about you."



What? Did his father want to play catch-up now? Given the amount of blood loss and pain, Styxx really wasn't in the mood for a lengthy father-son conversation.



But what really hurt were the memories of Galen standing by him whenever he'd been wounded. In his mind, he saw himself on that day when the wooden spike had torn through his side in Atlantis. Cocky and stupid, Styxx hadn't been paying attention. But the moment the spike went in, he'd cried out in utter agony. Galen had pulled him back and protected him from their enemies. Too weak to even hold a dagger, Styxx had been completely defenseless.



"I've got you, mou gios. Don't worry. Nothing's getting through me."



Even though Styxx was taller, Galen had carried him off the field of battle and held his hand the whole time they'd closed the wound. "Squeeze when it hurts, and don't worry about breaking anything, Highness. Trust me, if my deceptively strong Thia wasn't able to break it during her childbirths, there's no damage you can do. And at least you're not threatening to cut off my balls, fry them up, and feed them to me." Only Galen could have made him laugh while in that kind of pain and misery.



Afterward, the old man had gotten him drunk.



Gods, how he missed him.



Damn you, Apollo! Was it not enough that he'd killed Galen? Why torture Ryssa, too? She already held more than her fair share of hatred for him-why would Apollo worsen it?



I should have just fucked him and got it over with.



Not that it would have mattered. Had he given in, Ryssa would have seen a lot more than him trying to fight Apollo off. Maybe in time she'd calm down and realize what was really going on.



Who are you kidding? Ryssa would never take his side in any matter.



Once the physician was finished and had cleaned Styxx's wound thoroughly, his father called for the guards to help him to bed.



"It's not necessary," Styxx said, amazed that his speech wasn't slurred. "I can do it." Grinding his teeth against the pain that came through in spite of his drug, he pushed himself up and stumbled into bed. His head reeling, he lay there, trying to get the room to stop spinning.



He heard the sound of his father nearing his bed. "Is any of what Ryssa said about you and Apollo true?"



Opening his eyes, Styxx gave him a vacuous stare. His father really wanted to go into this right now?



What the Hades? Why not? It wasn't like Styxx was suffering in agony or anything.



Too high to care or hold back, he blinked at his father. "Yes, Apollo has buggered me. Repeatedly. No, I didn't instigate it. I damn sure never enjoyed it. And I really wish she'd keep him inside her so the bastard would leave me alone."



For once, his father didn't remark on his crudity. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"



If he didn't know better, he'd swear his father was on something, too. "I believe your exact words were for me to suck his balls and cock, and to bend over and take it wherever Apollo wanted to shove it so long as I kept him happy for you."



His father looked as horrified and ill as Styxx had been when the bastard had said it to him. I didn't mean it.



Little late for that thought.



"How long has it been going on?" his father asked.



"Since you put me in the Dionysion when I was a boy."



The color faded from his father's face. "I don't understand."



"They invoked the gods, Father," he said bitterly. "So they came for me ... in more ways than one."



"Is that why you hate me so?"



"It certainly didn't endear you to me, and neither is this fucking conversation. For the love of Olympus, Father, I've been stabbed by your daughter and it hurts. I just want to bleed and suffer in peace and silence, if that's not too much to ask? So please, have mercy on me for once in my wretched life."



"Forgive me." He finally left.



Drawing a ragged breath, Styxx stared at his saddlebags and cursed the Fates who'd forced him to stay another night.



"And you believe that lie, Father? Really?" He flinched at Ryssa's strident tone that carried plainly through his walls.



His father's reply was an unintelligible rumble.



"He's a liar. How can you not see that? He's always been a covetous liar since the day he was born. He couldn't stand that I had Apollo so he threw himself at him. You didn't see what I saw when I walked in on them. He was pressing Apollo's hands against his body parts. It was disgusting!" Her accusations went on, gaining ludicrousness with every one.



"I wish you'd let me kill him. It's what he deserves. How am I supposed to be with Apollo now, knowing he's slept with my brother? The brother I hate with every part of my being! How can I ever sit down at a table again with either of them, knowing what they've done to me behind my back? If this were in reverse and I'd slept with his whore, you'd have me whipped and exiled for it. Yet you intend to let him get away with this like he's gotten away with everything else in his spoiled rotten life. It's not fair!"



Was it too much to ask that his father pull the bitch to the other end of the palace so that he didn't have to listen to her jealous stupidity?



Unable to cope with any more insults and accusations that burned to the core of his soul, he reached for his chest and pulled out a sack full of herbs then he dumped them into a goblet of wine. He wasn't supposed to be drinking with this wound, but fuck it. Let him die. And if his stomach hurt, maybe that pain would be enough to distract his thoughts from his sister's extremely loud and ridiculous condemnation.



Gulping it down, he grimaced the moment the wine and herbs hit his stomach and made it cramp and burn in protest. For a second, he feared he'd be ill.



Yet within a few moments, it had him so disoriented that his sister's diatribe and screams became meaningless words that eventually lulled him to sleep.



But as he started dozing, his mind tried to fight it. For some reason, it wanted him alert. His instincts were trying to tell him something. Unfortunately, he was too far gone to comprehend the warning.