Styxx (DH #33) (21 page)

And while he had no memory of what Estes had done to him these weeks past, he had full knowledge of the hunting party, the scold and the journey home.

I will never be the same.…

Styxx opened his purse and pulled out the herbs his uncle had sent home with him. Wanting to get away from everything, he went to his bed. But not even that was comforting.

His father had placed all of his linens and pillows in here, not knowing that the smallest pillow on that bed had belonged to Acheron.

Styxx ground his teeth as a wave of pain so severe it left his heart bleeding ravaged him. They had been so close as boys. Best friends. He’d shared everything with Acheron.

And now …

Acheron hated him as much as Ryssa did. His brother had no use for him whatsoever.

He winced as he remembered Estes’s confessed perversions about his time in Atlantis. He still didn’t know if it was true or not.
I hope to the gods that I never know
. Because he wasn’t sure he could handle it if it was the truth.

Dropping his cloak, he looked down at the bruises that verified his use. Why wouldn’t the damn things heal already? Not that it would matter. Even once they were gone, he’d still be branded as a whore.

That mark would be with him forever.

Unable to deal with it, he dropped a handful of herbs into the kylix near his bed and poured wine over them. The sooner he could drug or drink himself into oblivion, the happier he’d be. He gulped it all down in one shot and then glared at the pillow that reminded him of the childhood he’d lost. The love and friendship he’d never have again.

The innocence.

Most of all, it reminded him of the fact that when he’d risked his life to save Acheron, Acheron had called out for Estes and caused Styxx to be taken. While he’d tried to free Acheron, Acheron had trapped him.

“You fucking bastard!” he snarled, grabbing the pillow. His rage spurring him, he threw it into the fire and let the flames burn it to embers.

Then he sank to his knees on the floor and tried his best to blot out everything. But it was useless. The new memories tortured him even more than his old ones had.

I am damned
.

And there was no escape from his mind that flogged him a thousand times worse than any scold ever could.

October 30, 9533 BC

“Did you say or do something to your sister?”

It took Styxx a moment to make sense of those words from his father. He’d only seen her once since his return. She’d asked him about Acheron and he’d refused to speak a word of anything to do with Atlantis. She’d called him selfish, slapped him, and left.

Blinking, he looked up from his breakfast and shook his head. “No, Father. Why?”

“She’s gone to visit my sister in Athens. I know she gets her whims and travels, but this one seems more sudden than normal.”

Styxx rubbed at his brow as his head spun. While the herbs Estes had given him made his thinking fuzzy, they removed the pain and voices. It was worth the delayed reaction time to have that small peace.

“Ryssa doesn’t talk to me about such things. Perhaps you should ask Mother.”

“She flies into a rage if I go near her.”

But she never tried to stab
you
in the heart
.

“Then I’m at a loss, Father. I’ve never understood Ryssa’s mind.”

“I wonder if it has anything to do with her maid.…”

“Her maid?”

“The one you impregnated. Ryssa’s been in a foul mood since the chit confessed it. She dismissed her immediately.”

“I didn’t—”

His father held his hand up to silence him. “I took care of the matter. Don’t let it concern you.”

If he were sober, he probably would, but as it was … whatever.

His father left him.

“I still didn’t sleep with her,” he mumbled, reaching for his kylix of wine. He’d never touched a woman and now he doubted if he ever would.

Even his wife.

The last thing he wanted was to risk anyone seeing the word on his groin. And with a woman, if she did, she’d run and tell everyone about it because that was what they all did. He had yet to meet one capable of a maintaining a secret unless it protected
her
.

As for men?

He’d rather die than
ever
do that again. So here he was, a well-trained tsoulus who was celibate. He would laugh if the entire matter didn’t sicken him so.

Estes had taken much more than his virginity and innocence … more than his little brother, he’d stolen part of Styxx’s soul and all of his future.

How could he ever trust anyone now?

All of his dreams of finding a woman who could love him … gone as fast as Estes had drugged him that first time.

He would hate his uncle if he had any room left for it. But he hated himself too much to hate anyone else.

Fuck it, he snarled silently as he reached for his pouch and pulled out more of the herbs. He was getting low on them. Later, he’d go into town and see if he could find someone who peddled them.

For now.

He sucked his breath in sharply as a sudden pain went through him, and placed his hand to his groin where the brand still hurt at times. The moment his fingers accidentally brushed against his cock, he jerked his hand away.

I can’t even masturbate now.
Because every time he touched himself, even to bathe or piss, he remembered Estes holding him with their hands entwined.…

Grimacing in distaste and horror, Styxx grabbed the rest of the herbs and dumped them in his cup. “I just want to forget everything.”

He downed the entire contents of the cup and cursed out loud. Why, when Estes had the ability to remove it, had his uncle left him with the memory of the nine days he’d spent with them in the woods?

Because he’s a fucking sadistic whoreson.

And Styxx was his well-used whore.

November 4, 9533 BC

Styxx clenched his hand before his father saw it shaking uncontrollably. They were holding open court sessions for the nobles and citizens, and he knew well how his father reacted whenever he tried to excuse himself. He ground his teeth to keep them from chattering.

What is wrong with me?

He felt ill and disoriented, and for once, he hadn’t drugged himself. Theoretically, he was sober. But it sure didn’t seem that way.

“Majesty? Is His Highness all right?”

Styxx cringed at the senator who’d asked the question. Why did someone always have to pull him into a fire?

His father glanced over at him then gaped. “Styxx? Are you ill?”

He wiped at the sweat in his eyes. “I’m fine, Father.”

To his shock, his father came over to him. “Look at me.”

He obeyed as his father placed his hand to his brow.

“Fetch a physician!” His father stepped back. “Teris? Carry the prince to his bed and be quick about it.”

He must be near death for his father to be
this
concerned. “I’m fine, Father. We can continue.”

His father shook his head as Teris, his father’s personal guard, moved to pick Styxx up. “Have the rest of the sessions canceled with my apologies. Tell them we’ll resume in the morning.”

When Teris reached to touch him, Styxx bolted from his throne. “I can walk.” But it wasn’t easy. He was so dizzy.

“At least let Teris help you.”

Styxx shook his head. He
never
wanted to feel another pair of male hands on his body again. They could all rot in Tartarus.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Galen appeared by his side. “Give me your arm, Highness.”

Styxx relaxed at the presence of the one and only person he trusted, and did as Galen ordered. At least when Galen knocked him around, he was open about it.

And Styxx always had a weapon in his hand.

Galen draped his arm around his shoulders and walked him to his room. Without a word, he put Styxx to bed then withdrew as the king came forward to stand next to Styxx.

“Galen?” Styxx called.

The old man turned at the door. “Yes, Highness?”

“Thank you.”

He saluted him. “Any time you need me, good prince. I am ever at your service.”

His father touched Styxx’s brow again. “I don’t understand why it is you sweat, but your skin is so frigid.”

He didn’t know either. For the last couple of days, he’d broken into a sweat and shook for no apparent reason. It never lasted that long and, thankfully, he’d been able to hide it.

Until today.

He wasn’t sure what made this different. All of a sudden, he sneezed and his nose poured blood. He cursed, pinching his nostrils together as he sat up in spite of the spinning room. The whole side of his face burned. In that instant, he knew what was happening.

Acheron
. Someone had struck his brother’s face. Hard. So much so that Styxx had several loosened teeth from it.

But he couldn’t let his father know that.

“Here.” His father gave him a towel. “I thought your nosebleeds had stopped.”

“No, Sire.” He’d just gotten better at hiding them from his father over the years.

Styxx wiped at his face. His eyes flew wide as he felt a new pain in the last place he wanted to feel one. It took every bit of strength he had not to cry out as something impaled him. What was Estes doing to his brother?

He was desperate to get to the drawer where he kept the numbing gel, but he didn’t dare use it while his father hovered so close. Nor could he allow his father to see his discomfort. And it was merciless. Like he was being cleaved in half.

“Finally,” his father said as the physician joined them.

The physician bowed low to his king. “Your Majesty. I was told the prince is unwell?”

“He is.” His father stepped away so the physician could examine Styxx’s body.

Styxx cringed every time the man touched him.

“Where did these bruises come from, Highness?”

“Training,” he lied.

His father scowled. “I didn’t think you’d been training since your return.”

“Master Galen wasn’t there. I trained on my own.”

Frowning, the physician pulled back. “Then how did you bruise yourself?”

“It was with the staff and spear,” Styxx quickly added.

The physician sighed before he spoke to the king. “I think to be safe, we should bleed him.”

“No!” Styxx roared as raw, pure fury burned through his veins. After what the priests had done to him, he couldn’t bear the thought of being bled again. Never mind the matter of his having suckled a god on his blood.

“Styxx!” his father snapped.

“Beat me. Kill me. I do not care. I will
not
be bled. Ever!”

The physician shrank away from the bed as if terrified. “Is he possessed again, Majesty?”

Styxx’s fury gave way to panic. “No. Father, I am fine. I swear to all the gods.”

The doubt in his father’s eyes set his heart to pounding.

“Please, Father. I beg you.”
Don’t send me back there. Please, I can’t.…

Time hung still until his father shook his head. “If you need to be bled—”

“My nose bleeds. Surely there’s enough on the bed already.”

“Sire—”

His father held his hand up, cutting the man off. “I will defer to the prince. But if he’s not well by morning, we will proceed with your remedy, physician. Now leave us.”

With a curt bow, he departed.

Scowling, his father moved to stand next to the bed. “What is wrong with you?”

“I was bled to the brink of death by the priests, Father.”

“And they healed you.”

You stupid bastard
. “No, Father. It weakened me in ways I can’t explain. Suffice it to say, I’ve had enough of a cure I know for a fact doesn’t work. This will pass on its own, please trust me.”

“And if you’re possessed?”

He could almost laugh at that. How could he be possessed by the gods that had abandoned him? “Father, please. I’ve had nosebleeds the whole of my life. As for the other … a stomach ailment. I’ve felt unwell since this morning and didn’t want to bother you with the complaint. It’s nothing.”

His father inclined his head. “I shall defer to you then. And I’ll send a servant to tend you.”

“I’d rather be alone.”

He scowled. “You’re—”

“Father, please … I don’t want someone in here, disturbing me in any way. I shall be fine on my own.”

“I will leave someone posted at your door. Call if you need anything.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as his father was gone, Styxx rolled out of bed to the chest where he’d hidden his small purse. His hands shaking, he seized one of the suppositories and quickly administered it, along with the numbing gel.

His breathing ragged, he returned to bed and sighed even though he could still feel the very thing that was causing both him and his brother pain. Closing his eyes, he wished he was still ignorant of what it was. Because now that he knew exactly what was being done to Acheron, he understood the true horror of what his brother lived with.

And there was nothing he could do about it. He’d tried to free his brother and Acheron had refused.

Damn him for it.

Styxx gasped as another pain stabbed him and then he laughed bitterly. His brother wasn’t the only one damned. It was both of them. Two lives tied together in complete and utter misery.

November 15, 9533 BC

Styxx raked his hand through his hair as his head reeled. He was so high right now that he’d give his mother a good run. The herbs he’d bought in town had been even stronger than Estes’s mixture. The merchant hadn’t been kidding when he’d told him it would ease whatever ailments plagued him.

But honestly, he didn’t want to feel like this. He just wanted to be normal again.

What do you know of normal?

Nothing. He’d never been normal. Not like other people. And all because of his brother. If Acheron had just been born with human eyes, no one would have ever known. Neither of them would have been tortured …

A knock sounded on his door.

“Yes?” He lifted his head to see a small pretty maid there.

She bowed low. “His Majesty requests you join him in the outer courtyard, Highness.”