Authors: Sherrilyn Kenyon
Tears streamed down his face as he remembered being a boy and cocooning like this whenever he was hurt and aching. Only then, he used to pretend the blanket was his mother and that she was hugging and consoling him.
As he lay there, he heard Ryssa’s muffled voice through the wall as she tended his brother. “Don’t worry, Acheron. I’ll take care of you.”
Closing his eyes, Styxx pretended that he was Acheron and that Ryssa was in here with him. But just like when he’d pretended the blanket was hugging him and all the times he’d made up friends to play with, he knew the bitter truth.
Without Bethany, he was completely alone.
And no one cared about the prince.
Not even him.
January 29, 9528 BC
While his brother and sister laughed through the walls, Styxx stared at his gaunt and bruised features as he shaved in the mirror. He looked like utter Hades. For all his cowering, Acheron could hit. Styxx’s right eye was completely red and his brow cut.
But what did it matter? There was no one to look at him. No Bethany to run her gentle hands over his face now and sympathize with his pain.
And as Styxx pulled the razor over his chin, he tried not to remember anything about her. Tried not to think at all.
But still those memories surged.… He could see her so clearly in his mind the day she’d fingered the center of his chin and scowled at what she found there.
“What is this?”
“A goatee.”
She’d made an adorable face at him. “The goat part is right. Why would you intentionally do that to yourself?”
“I thought you’d think it manly and sexy.”
She’d scoffed until he’d shown her what he could do to her with those whiskers. Then she’d been all behind his keeping it.
Tears filled his eyes, but he blinked them away. He missed so many things about her. Yet it was the loss of having someone to laugh with that burned most.
Unable to deal with it anymore, he lowered his hand and pulled the razor across his forearm, careful to pick an area he knew he could cover with his ornamental gold cuffs so no one would see it. He hissed in pain, allowing the physical to overshadow the mental anguish as he made several long cuts there. It’d been awhile since he’d done this.
Not since he met his Bethany. With her, he hadn’t needed the painful distraction.
Styxx glanced at the scars on his thighs and arms where he’d cut himself repeatedly when he’d been younger … anything to divert his emotions and thoughts from what really hurt. Most of the scars were so faint and fine, they were only visible whenever his skin darkened from the summer sun.
A sudden knock sounded. “Highness?”
He set the razor aside and went to answer his door. It was one of his father’s scribes.
“Sorry to disturb you, Your Highness. His Majesty requests you join him downstairs in his study immediately.”
“I’ll be there in a moment.” Styxx shut the door and finished dressing, making sure to cover the cuts he’d made in his forearm with the thick gold cuffs he wore for decoration then went to see what his father wanted.
The instant he entered the room, a feeling of dread consumed him.
This won’t please you, boy.
His father gestured toward the chair in front of him.
Shit.
Styxx sat down while everyone withdrew to leave them alone.
Double shit.
Worse than the haste with which the room was vacated was the expression on the king’s face. One of controlled fury that had never boded well for Styxx in the past. “Father?”
“What is this I hear about your interference with the soldiers’ pensions?”
Interference? He’d merely seen to it that they’d been paid properly. “They weren’t getting what was owed them.”
“Pensions are only awarded to those who are killed in battle.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you authorize payment to be given to those killed in a whorehouse?”
“They—”
“You do not speak!” his father roared. “You listen!”
I thought you wanted me to answer.…
“Have you any idea the drain you’ve put on our resources?”
Styxx kept his gaze on the floor.
“Have you?”
“You told me not to speak.”
His father backhanded him. “I should have you whipped for going behind my back as you’ve done and draining my finances with such frivolity. How dare you!” He growled furiously then kicked at Styxx’s chair. “Get up!”
Careful to keep his expression blank, Styxx stood.
“Since you think it’s funny to spend my money so recklessly, I’m selling your farm and your horse.”
The farm he’d bought with his own coin from the blood of his own brow and back … for Bethany.
Styxx ground his teeth as pain racked him. But he didn’t dare let it show. He knew better.
“You are being stripped of your military rank. And your armor, hoplon, and swords were sold and melted down this morning. Furthermore, you are cut off financially. Since I can’t trust you to spend wisely, I’ll treat you as I do Ryssa. You will have to come begging to me for every obolos, and then only if I deem your need worthy will you get one. I’m increasing your daily obligations for work and you will pay back every single bit you authorized paid for such rampant stupidity. Now what have you to say for yourself?”
Don’t do it.…
Stay silent.
But he couldn’t. He was too raw and angry. Glaring at his father, he pulled the gold cuffs off and slammed them down on his father’s desk. Next he removed his fibula and chlamys then his shoes.
The king curled his lip. “What are you doing?”
“This is about punishing me, is it not? You’re stripping me of everything I own to pay for
your
soldiers. Fine. Take it. Sell it all. I don’t want it, anyway.” Styxx dropped his silk chiton to the floor. With his gaze locked on his father’s, he jerked his signet ring off and slammed it down next to the cuffs.
Completely naked and with what little pride he possessed, he turned and walked out of the room. Ignoring everyone who turned to gape at his horrifically scarred and marked body and speculate over it, Styxx headed out the main doors and descended the steps.
With no place else to go and too sick to walk very far today, he went to the barracks. Thankfully, they were empty of Didymosian soldiers.
Galen rose to his feet as soon as he saw him nearing his headquarters. “Oh dear gods, son…” Pulling his cloak off, he wrapped it around Styxx. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Galen frowned, but didn’t question him further as he guided Styxx into a chair. “Your eye should have had stitches.”
“I know. But there was no one there for it.”
Galen poured a cup of wine and handed it to him. Then he went to fetch him clothes.
Styxx didn’t say a word as he dressed. Unfortunately, Galen’s shoes were too small for freakishly large feet. “Would it be all right if I bunked with you for the night?”
“Of course, son. You know you’re always welcome wherever I am.”
“Thank you, Master Galen.”
“Highness—”
Styxx held his hand up to stop him. “I’ve been disowned, Galen.”
His old mentor gaped. “What?” he asked incredulously. “When they came for your armor and equipment this morning, I thought it was for you to be dressed in it.”
He shook his head. “I’ve been decommissioned. The king has sold off my armor.”
“This is outrageous! Why?”
Styxx refused to tell him the reason. Galen would feel guilty for his part in it and Galen was not at fault at all. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You should go to your Bethany.”
“She’s gone, Galen. She left me … a while ago.” Styxx bit back a sob at the loss of the only thing that really mattered to him.
That and his horse. He was really going to miss Troian. Bethany more, but he’d been through a lot with that horse.
“What can I get for you?”
“I’m fine, Master Galen.”
“You’re not fine, Styxx. I’m old, not stupid.”
“And I’m stupid and not old.”
Galen laughed at him. “You look like you’ve been swallowed by Charybdis and spat back out. Come with me and lie down and rest for awhile.”
Styxx started to argue, but he had a bad fever and vicious sore throat from being chilled last night after his fight with Acheron. Coughing, he followed Galen to his quarters.
Styxx lay down on the bed and Galen pulled the covers up around him and tucked them close to his body. Strange, it was the only time in his life someone had done this for him.
“Sleep if you can. I’ll be back to check on you soon.”
“Thank you, Galen.” Closing his eyes, Styxx tried to sleep, but it was useless. Too many voices and too many bad memories tormented him. And the worst were the memories of a gentle hand in his hair that he’d never know again.
January 31, 9528 BC
“Get up!”
Styxx flinched as someone slapped at his head. His fever was so high that at first he couldn’t focus on what was happening. Finally, his vision cleared enough that he saw his father standing over him.
“I said, get up, you worthless dog!”
When Styxx didn’t move fast enough to suit him, his father jerked him to his feet.
“You ever pull another stunt like this and I will have you killed while you sleep. You understand?”
No. He didn’t. Scowling, he looked from his father to Galen. “What are you talking about?”
“He doesn’t know, Majesty. He’s been burning with a fever for two days and hasn’t left the bed except to piss.”
Styxx was stunned that Galen would speak to his father like that. “What’s going on?”
His father curled his lip. “Get him cleaned up and returned to the palace.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
His father stormed off.
The instant he was gone, Galen helped Styxx back to bed. “Rest, boy. Don’t worry about anything.”
“But my father said—”
“He’s only angry because he learned a frightening lesson over the last two days.”
“Galen, I’m too ill to follow. Please don’t riddle me.”
Laughing, Galen took a cloth from the basin by the bed and ran it over Styxx’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“Very confused … has it really been two days?”
“It has. About three hours after you fell asleep here, the armorer took your equipment back to your father and refused to melt it.”
“What? Why?”
Galen poured wine for Styxx. “His youngest nephew is Darian and his son was Sandros.” Sandros was one of the men who’d died on their return. As with Gaius’s family, his widow and children had been denied his pension and Styxx had paid it. “He was the same man we bought the armor from originally, and he remembered how thrilled you were when he laced you into it the first time. And how you didn’t have the money yet for the helm or greaves, but humbly asked him if he would save them and allow you to make payments.” When the armorer had refused, Galen had stepped forward to loan him the money until Styxx had paid them off. “He told your father that he would never dishonor you by destroying something you’d worked so hard for and paid for with your own coin. That it wouldn’t be right to melt down a hero’s armor or sell it to another. And when your father had it taken to another armorer, he also refused once he learned it belonged to you.”
“Why?”
“He was at Halicarnassus with us … and said that having seen your bravery and skill firsthand, he would never dishonor you by dismantling your armor.”
“I still have it?”
Galen nodded. “The third armorer brought it to me and said that he’d pay the king the value of it out of his own pocket to make sure it was returned to you intact. And then, while you slept, word from the armorers went round to the soldiers and veterans that you’d been stripped of everything because of what you’d done for us and for the families of our fallen. That your father had taken your rank, your armor, your horse and titles, and left you unclothed to wander the streets. One by one, every single member of the Stygian Omada came and threw down his weapons and stripped naked in front of the palace in protest of what had been done to you. More to the point, they vowed that they would see Didymos fall before they picked up another weapon to follow any man save Prince Styxx into battle.”
Styxx was stunned that they would dare his father’s wrath for him. “And I slept through all of that?”
“You did, indeed.”
Honestly, Styxx didn’t fully believe him until an hour later when he got up and dressed not in Galen’s clothes, but his own that had been left for him and headed outside. There in the arena, his army had gathered, and as they saw him, they struck their shields with their swords and chanted his name.
Amazed and awed by their actions, he turned around, looking at them in disbelief. Every shield there had been repainted with his personal emblem on it. A black phoenix rising. It was an act of complete solidarity. The ultimate show of their support and respect.
For the first time in his life, Styxx felt worth something. Not much …
But worth something more than the dirt under his father’s feet.
* * *
“
We have a
serious problem.”
Apollo arched a brow at Zeus’s dire tone. “And that would be?”
“Have you been to Didymos lately?”
“Of course.”
“Did you see the uprising?”
Apollo snorted. “You mean the army stripping naked? Yes. It was rather amusing.”
“Yes, well, what isn’t amusing is that little bugger of yours who doesn’t respect us, leading an army of men who are willing to overthrow their king for him. Can you imagine what they’d do if he wanted our temples burned?”
Apollo rolled his eyes at Zeus’s unwarranted fear. “I’ve got him in hand.”
“I don’t think you do. Nor do I think you appreciate how dangerous he could prove to be. Didymos is one of our richest city-states and she was hard won from Atlantis. The last thing we need is to lose her to them again.”
“You’re not going to lose Didymos.” But hopefully soon, Zeus and the rest would lose all of Greece.
Provided Apollo’s pact with the Atlanteans held.
Apollo knew just what to do to make sure that everyone was kept in their rightful place.