Authors: Sherrilyn Kenyon
Estes had taken him down a lot more than that.
Tears filled his eyes and spilled over his cheeks. He didn’t feel like this was his just deserts, but maybe it was. He’d ruined his mother. And if he was the real godspawn and Acheron wasn’t, he’d ruined his innocent brother, too.
Out of everything Styxx had screwed up in his life, that was the one real regret he had. He should have spoken up and told his father the truth. That he had the god powers while Acheron only had divine eyes. Then they would have been hated equally.
Together.
What do I do now?
I just want to go home
.
It was wretched there, but it was the only place he had.
You should run away and leave it all behind
.
And do what? He had no practical skills. He was a prince who knew diplomacy and languages. Useless in the real world. Besides, if this was how his family treated him, how much worse would strangers be?
“Wherever you are, Acheron … I hope you don’t feel the way I do right now.”
But he knew better. There was no way Acheron could be used like this and not feel the same.
Worthless. Powerless. Despised.
Yet the worst was the self-hatred.
You are a prince!
his mind shouted at him.
Heir to the Didymos throne. Get your ass up! Now! Who are you to complain about your fate?
“I’m a used whore,” he breathed as pain racked him again. How could he ever hold his head up after this, knowing what they’d done to him for a solid week? It’d been bad enough when the priests had held him down and tortured him as they tried to drive out the demons that didn’t exist. And the unknown Olympian had made lecherous offers he’d baited with the promise of freedom.
This was so much worse.
I should have let the god have me
. At least that would have seen him released from the Dionysion faster. Had he only known then what his fate was, he’d have embraced it. Then the god would have protected him from them …
Maybe.
Sick to his soul, Styxx left the water and dressed so that he could put this behind him as quickly as possible.
If he could just get home, Estes and the others would leave. No one would ever know what had happened to him here. He could keep the secret. He was good at that.
I just have to get home.
Styxx didn’t speak a single word the whole way back. While they rode, his gaze kept going to the guards who had been sent along to protect him. Guards his uncle had bribed …
Not with coin, but with Styxx.
Even now, he could hear their mocking laughter. They thought what had been done to him was funny, and they had watched and participated with a glee that was nauseating.
Spoiled son of a king … Here’s for all the times I’ve had to lower my eyes to you and your father. Let the royal prick take a prick in the ass for all the pains I’ve had to suffer.…
Next time I avert my gaze from you, Highness, know that it’s banging your sweet ass I’ll be thinking of.
Styxx didn’t know if he’d ever be able to leave his room again, knowing they were in his father’s service. How could he face anyone ever again?
And when his father met them at the palace steps with a wide smile, shame and humiliation slapped him even harder. How would his father look at him if he knew how he’d been used?
Styxx’s gaze fell to the scar on his arm that his father had given him. And he knew the truth.
His father would hate and blame
him
for it.
“How did it go?” his father asked with a delight that sickened Styxx even more.
Estes laughed. “We rode mostly. I tell you, brother, there’s nothing better than feeling your favorite royal stallion under you.”
Bile rose in Styxx’s throat.
“Styxx took his first buck and we made a man of him. It’s been a great week, brother. One we’ll all remember for the rest of our lives, is that not right, Styxx?”
Styxx cringed at the double entendres he now fully understood.
His father frowned at him. “Are you all right, boy?”
He wanted to tell him the truth, but one glance at Estes and he knew his uncle was right. His father thought the world of his brother and was suspicious of a son he wasn’t really sure belonged to him. It was why he favored Ryssa so. With her birth, there was no doubt.
Styxx would never hold his father’s full confidence or love.
“Prince Styxx was stuffed with too many rich figs this past week for his taste, I’m afraid.”
Styxx winced at Nestor’s bold reference to their rape that went right over his father’s head. It was meant to shame him, and that arrow hit its target dead on.
Estes ruffled Styxx’s hair. “Nestor’s right. He partook too much of our potent nectar, brother, and is still sick from it. Forgive me for corrupting your heir and opening him to more manly activities than he was ready for. Still, the event has stretched him quite a bit and taught him things he won’t soon forget.”
Every single word cut him like jagged glass across his heart. All of them openly mocked his pain and degradation at their hands. Worse, they reveled in it.
Styxx ground his teeth to keep from showing any emotion whatsoever. Estes was testing him and he knew it. Throwing what they’d done in his face to see if he’d break and betray them while Estes was here with his friends to lie against Styxx should he say one single word about what they’d done.
That was why Estes had brought them along. Who would ever believe one mad boy against two princes, one of whom was a decorated war hero, and four noblemen? They would stand united to call him a liar so that Estes could have him returned to the temple. And from there …
He felt his stomach cramp with utter misery.
His father pulled him into his arms and clapped him on the back. “My poor Styxx. The first hangover is the worst of all. But you have to learn to work past it. Or never get another.” Kissing his forehead, he released him and went to greet his brother.
Styxx glared at his uncle as his father embraced Estes, resenting the affection his father had for him. Over his father’s shoulder, Estes raked him from head to toe with a lecherous, taunting grin. Averting his gaze, Styxx caught the smug smiles of his uncle’s friends. And when Nestor winked at him and dropped his gaze to Styxx’s groin as he licked his lips, he all but ran up the stairs and into the palace.
Ryssa met him just inside the door and swept his body with a sneer of her own. “You must think you’re something truly special now. Having gone off with Uncle and his friends like you’re their noble equal. But you’re not a man, Styxx. You’re still a pathetic, spoiled child.”
He’d never wanted to punch her more than he did right then. How could she look into his eyes and not see the horror inside his heart? Not see how shaken and upset he was? It took everything he had not to put her through the wall behind her. “And you’re a stupid bitch.”
She gasped as he stormed past her. Shrieking, she ran to tell on him.
Honestly, he didn’t care. There was nothing worse his father could do to him now. No beating that could possibly hurt more than this did.
He started past the upstairs larder then paused and opened it to grab two jugs of wine. With them in hand, he retreated to his room and bolted himself in. He had no intention of leaving the safety of these four walls until long after Estes and the others were gone.
Pulling the pillow from his bed, he placed it on the floor to cushion his sore body and guzzled down the undiluted wine, wanting it to take away his shame. But all it could do was create a very temporary shelter and he knew it.
Over and over, against his will, his mind kept replaying the utter misery he’d just survived. No matter what he did, he heard their voices and felt their hands on his flesh.
Please, gods, talk to me and drown it out.
But all he heard was Estes and the others laughing and mocking him. How ironic that the only thing he’d found to fully silence the sounds in his head were memories he’d sell his soul to banish.…
August 30, 9533 BC
For two full days, Styxx stayed barricaded in his room until he heard the horses gathered in the drive for his uncle’s departure. Making sure to stay out of sight, he opened his window only enough to look down and verify the sounds.
Thank you, gods, they’re leaving.…
“Where’s the prince?” his father demanded on the steps below.
Ryssa made a derisive face. “No one’s seen him, Father. Most likely he’s off impregnating a servant. After all, he went a whole week without one. Gods forbid.”
Styxx despised her for that.
Estes shrugged Styxx’s “rudeness” off. “Don’t worry about it, Xerxes. I’m not offended. I’m sure he feels like he’s had enough of me this past week. Give him my regards when you see him and tell him that I can’t wait until my next visit. I look forward to being his riding partner in the future.”
Styxx’s stomach shrank at those hated words and the veiled threat beneath them.
“You are far too kind, Uncle.” Ryssa kissed him lightly on the cheek. “May the gods speed you home.”
“May the gods overturn your chariot and spill your guts, far and wide,” Styxx snarled. “Or better yet, send your boat to the bottom of the sea.”
“Gods speed you, brother.”
Styxx didn’t feel like he could breathe again until he saw his uncle and his entourage ride out the gates. Only then did he lean back and relax. He expelled a long breath.
His nightmare was finally over. The bastard was gone and couldn’t touch him anymore.
He was safe again.…
But his relief was short-lived as guards pounded on his door. At first he wasn’t going to answer it at all, but when he heard them calling for a battering ram, he knew if he didn’t come out, his father would never be placated with a simple apology.
Forcing himself to stand strong, he opened the door to find four burly guards waiting to escort him down to his father’s study.
Styxx braced himself for his father’s fury and lecture.
They marched with him all the way inside his father’s study and didn’t pull back until he neared his father’s desk where the king sat with Ryssa standing behind him. His father glared at him with a venom Styxx wished was lethal.
“What have you to say for yourself, boy?”
“I don’t feel well, Father. Please forgive me. I think I caught something.” And hopefully it wouldn’t be some venereal disease.
“Do you think I care how badly you feel?”
No. Of course he didn’t. He never cared when Styxx was ill.
“Is this to be your answer when you’re king? To crawl into your bed anytime you don’t feel well and let the kingdom rot while you rest?”
It was all Styxx could do not to mock those words in time with his father’s recitation of a lecture perpetually branded in his mind.
His father rose to his feet and stormed his way to stand before Styxx. “And what is this I hear about your calling your sister a bitch?”
He cut a murderous glare to Ryssa who smirked at him. “She misunderstood me.”
His father backhanded him. “Don’t you lie to me! And is that alcohol I smell on you? Is it?”
No, the alcohol wasn’t the pungent smell. Rather it was the aphrodisiac Estes had forced down his throat for nine days straight then forced him to vomit up. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get rid of the rancid odor. “It’s some medicine Estes gave me.”
His father shook his head. “You disgrace the name of Didymos and our noble Ariclean ancestors. I give you every luxury and consideration a man can give his son, and how do you repay me? You lie in bed like some wastrel. I won’t have it, Styxx. I won’t!” He shoved him back into the arms of the largest guard. “Take him to the scold and see that he’s given fifty strikes. More if he cries.”
Styxx winced at the severity of his punishment.
“How many more, Majesty?”
“As many as it takes to make him stop.”
Styxx met the smug expression on Ryssa’s face.
“I think he should have more, Father, for what he said to me. It was completely uncalled for.”
“Fifty is sufficient, kitten. Besides, he always cries like a woman.” He sneered at Styxx. “I should put a dress on you.”
Why not? It was the only degradation Estes had spared him.
“Get him out of my sight.”
Styxx didn’t bother following the guards. He led the way. After all, he was intimately acquainted with the path to the scold.
The instant he entered the guard’s room, the scold looked up with an arched brow at his sudden appearance.
“Fifty,” Styxx growled. “More should I weep.”
He scowled. “How many more?”
“Until I stop, and yes, you’re pardoned. Now just get it over with.” Styxx went into the room and tried to blot out the guards’ voices in his head as they waited outside for the scold to beat him. They were relishing his punishment even more than his sister did.
He took the leather piece from the scold and placed it in his mouth then assumed the position he knew so well. A slow smile curled the scold’s lips as he secured Styxx’s hands to the post.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to wet myself.
He’d long passed that point.
Brushing Styxx’s hair back from his eyes, the scold lowered his face until their gazes met. “I am fully pardoned, Highness, for my actions against you?”
Styxx frowned. “Yes,” he said around the leather. Was the man daft? Why did he need him to repeat it?
The scold picked the largest cane then moved around so that he could expose Styxx’s scarred and sore buttocks.
Placing his cheek against the cold stone, Styxx held his breath and waited for the cane to be rubbed against his skin as a signal that the whipping would begin. Instead, he felt the scold’s calloused hands pushing his legs apart so that he could run his hand down Styxx’s inner thigh over the scars the priests had given him.
“My brother said you had the sweetest little ass he’d ever ridden. I’ve never had a nobleman’s ass before, never mind such a pretty royal one. But I have to say that I have dreamed of doing this to you for years.”
Screaming in terror, Styxx tried to break free, but the ropes were knotted too well.