Styxx

Styxx Page 4

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

Chapter Four

 

  June 21, 9535 BC

  Styxx rubbed at his brow as boredom threatened to kill him while his father conferred with the musicians over what would be played during his sister's coming-of-age banquet later tonight.

  In spite of what Ryssa thought, she was by far their father's favorite. Even though his birthday was in two days, all preparations for his had been postponed in favor of hers. His father had even taken him aside three months ago to tell him as much.

  You understand, boy. She reaches her full majority and it's not that important for you this year.

  Truthfully, he didn't want any kind of celebration, ever again. Birthdays had never boded well for him, anyway. Neither his nor anyone else's.

  At best all they did was remind him that he shared his birthday with a brother he was forbidden to see. And it wasn't like he had any friends to invite. Only users trying to curry favor with his father or with him.

  Even if he had the delusion that someone might actually like him as a person, his ability to hear other people's thoughts quickly squelched that idiocy.

  Princes had no friends.

  Although, here lately, he had plenty of girls, and even full-grown women, from all social classes, who made numerous advances toward him. But they didn't care about him either. Rather they wanted to hold the bragging rights of being his first lover. Or better yet, become the mother to one of his bastard children so that he'd have to support them for their rest of their lives. He could barely move without one of them cornering him and stripping off her clothes or trying to fondle him, and while most men would welcome it, the fact that he heard their thoughts made him steer clear of their heartless traps. It was a total lust-kill when you knew beyond a doubt that the woman couldn't stand you, and that she'd be talking about you as soon as it was over, and not in a favorable way.

  He'd rather die virgin than suffer any more ridicule for his ineptitude.

  "Father!"

  Styxx cringed at Ryssa's angry shriek as she ran into the room, holding one of her elaborate himations in her arms. Whatever it is that ails her, please don't let it be directed at me. Ryssa blamed him for everything-including his mother's brutal attack on him last year.

  She wouldn't have stabbed you had you not deserved it! My mother is a gentle woman who wouldn't harm a soul. I know you, Styxx. You had to have said something awful to her to provoke it! She would never have attacked you otherwise. Admit it, you threatened or insulted her, didn't you?

  Zeus help him, but if it rained tonight during her banquet, somehow that, too, would be his fault.

  His father stepped away from the musicians to greet her.

  "Look!" She shoved the garment at him. "They've crushed the embroidery on my himation! What am I to do?"

  Go naked, dear sister. Oh wait . . . better yet, wear one of your two million other gowns. Not like she didn't have a dozen chests bulging with them.

  Their father cupped her cheek in his hand. The tender look on his face was enough to made Styxx's lip curl. If he dared to complain over something so trivial, he'd be publicly embarrassed at best, beaten at worst.

  "Don't fret. They can fix it, kitten. "

  "No, Father. It's ruined. " Huge tears fell down her cheeks. No wonder his father despised them. "I just won't attend. I can't. They'll all laugh at me. " She narrowed her icy blue eyes on Styxx, who stiffened as his gut clenched.

  Here it comes. . . .

  "You distracted my maid, didn't you?"

  He had to struggle to keep the venom from his voice. "No. "

  "You're lying! I've seen the way you watch her. It's revolting. "

  "I don't watch your maid, Ryssa. I don't even know which one was responsible for your dress. "

  "Then you don't know if you've distracted her or not, do you? Do you!"

  Styxx would throw his head back in exasperation, but he didn't want his father jumping all over him for disregarding her pain. Besides, Ryssa's hysterical tantrum was enough for anyone to deal with.

  "You've probably destroyed my sandals, too. You'd love for all of them to laugh at me tonight, admit it. " She stomped her foot at him.

  "I don't want anyone to laugh at you, lamb-head. I just don't care. " Styxx turned to walk away.

  But Ryssa wouldn't let it go. She grabbed his arm and jerked him around to face her. "Why can't you ever learn to be happy for someone else? Huh?"

  Honestly, I'd be thrilled if I could just learn to be happy for myself. "Unlike you, Ryssa, I don't waste my time worrying about other people. "

  "Exactly my point. You're so selfish and cold, it's disgusting. "

  "That's not what I meant," he said, but she was already gone. He started to fling his hands out in an obscene gesture then caught his father's angry glare and disturbing thoughts over the fact Styxx wasn't giving his sister due respect.

  Instead, Styxx held his hands up in helpless surrender while Ryssa cornered their father with her complaints against her brother who could do nothing to please her.

  Except die.

  "You see, Father! You see how he treats people with such blatant disregard of their feelings? How can someone so cold and heartless be king? Zeus help us all with him on your throne. "

  I know. I'm not fit to breathe your precious air and I should be killed where I stand.

  He was surprised she didn't come after him with a knife like his mother had. Gods save me from hysterical bitches.

  Styxx started to turn away, but just as he moved, a fierce, unbelievable pain went through his tongue. It was so bad that he couldn't breathe for it, and it sent him straight to his knees as his head reeled.

  What in the name of Hades?

  He felt like he was choking on blood, and instead of easing, it worsened. Unable to stand it, he cried out in utter agony.

  Oh gods, Acheron . . . what are they doing to you now?

  It was the only rational explanation. Over the years, he'd learned to hide the phantom pains that came when he wasn't expecting them. Most he understood. They were canings or beatings. Hair-pulling. Burns. Hunger pangs even though he'd just eaten . . . But others, like this, he didn't comprehend what caused them. All he knew was how bad it hurt.

  "Styxx?"

  He heard his father's voice, yet he couldn't respond. His tongue was too swollen. While he didn't often show the physical traces of Acheron's injuries, he would at times have peculiar handprints or swollen places on his body. But never had anything like this happened before.

  Arching his back, he tried to focus on something else. Yet it was impossible. Tears streamed down his face as his vision swam.

  "He's faking. " Ryssa snarled, kicking at his legs. "He's jealous that I'm getting all the attention and he can't stand it. "

  His father's senior advisor knelt on the floor beside him so that he could inspect Styxx's damaged mouth and swollen tongue. "Majesty, it's the bakkheia. " A type of insanity caused by Dionysus that was said to infect those who had offended the god of wine. "I think he's possessed. "

  No! Styxx tried his best to say the word.

  Nothing came out.

  His father knelt down on his other side. "What do we do?"

  "We must get him to the Dionysion and let the priests tend him. "

  Styxx shook his head, trying to stop them. While working at the temples, he'd heard too many stories about what befell those deemed mad. Or anyone who was believed to have offended a god.

  But no one listened. They couldn't understand him. Nor did they try.

  Before he could stop them, his father called for his guards and had him carried to the Dionysian temple in the middle of the city.

  Helpless against his inexplicable pain, Styxx listened as his father explained to the high priest how he'd been stricken for no reason. How he had a history of headaches, vomiting, and "imagined" ailments. That he seldom slept. And that his mother had gone mad shortly after his birth, and succumbed

to her cups, that in a fit of rage last year, she'd stabbed Styxx and then tried to kill herself in front of him.

  "It's a good thing you brought him here, Majesty. You are right. He is possessed and we can definitely make him better for you. "

  Styxx shook his head as terror held him tight to her bosom. "F-f-f-fa-fer?"

  "Shh, boy. The priests will help you. "

  Styxx clutched at his father's palla, desperate to go home, but his father pried his hands off his clothes while the priests came forward and put chains on him.

  The last words he heard from his father before they dragged him away sickened him the most.

  "I grant you and your priests full immunity. Do whatever you must to heal him. "

  June 21, 9535 BC

  Styxx choked as the priests forced a gag into his mouth. They'd already stripped him naked and hung him in the center of the temple so that they could begin "treating" him.

  One of the priests drew symbols in lamb's blood over his body while another brought out a pair of shears and a ceremonial dagger. They lit incense and candles while they chanted for the god's forgiveness for whatever sin Styxx had committed against him. Then to his complete horror, they started cutting off pieces of his hair and then burning the locks in a gold bowl.

  Screaming around the gag, he tried to stop them, but with his arms spread out and chained, there was nothing he could do.

  "Don't fight us, Highness. We're not the ones possessing you, and causing you this trouble and agony. We're only trying to help you. "

  The oldest priest nodded as he painfully sawed off a handful of Styxx's hair. "We have to make you less appealing for the demons who inhabit your body. They have no need for an ugly host and they will flee you once you no longer attract them. "

  Dear gods . . . what are you planning to do to me?

  Piece by piece, they removed all the hair from his head then shaved his scalp before painting more symbols there. The scent of burning hair made him ill.

  Look on the bright side. . . . You won't have to worry about your father pulling at your hair now.

  Or any more women coming on to him.

  "Should we bleed him first?"

  Styxx tried to shrink away from the priest who asked that question.

  "No. His case is too extreme. Light the rods. We'll have to scorch the demons from him. "

  Scorch? What the Hades was that?

  Two massively huge priests unlocked his hands. Styxx fought against them, doing everything he could to break free. But they held him fast and dragged him to a smaller room where he was placed on a cold stone table. His hands were stretched out and chained so that he couldn't move them at all. Next they locked cuffs around his ankles then spread his legs so wide that it felt as if they were breaking his hipbones.

  The oldest priest came forward and placed a hand to Styxx's head. "Shh, Highness. Stop fighting us. Accept what's being done. This is for your own good, after all. "

  Styxx's eyes widened as he saw them wheel in a cauldron of coals that had a dozen pokers in it. Please gods, no! He didn't even want to know where they intended to put those.

  A younger priest stepped forward with a long piece of white cloth.

  "Bind him tight," the oldest priest said. "We don't want to geld him by accident. "

  Geld? Geld!

  "While the king has given us immunity to treat him, he is our prince, we can't leave any marks that will show when he's dressed. "

  "If we leave no visible marks, how will that keep the demons from possessing him again?"

  "They see all marks. Even with them hidden beneath clothing, the demons won't want a scarred host. "

  In spite of the fact that it made his head pound more, Styxx screamed for them to stop this insanity. But the gag and his swollen tongue kept his words from being intelligible, which only made the priests believe all the more that evil daemons had control of him.

  Please! I'm not possessed. It was Acheron's pain he'd felt. And it hurt bad enough. He didn't need this added to it.

  They paid him no attention as the young priest used his cloth to tie Styxx's cock flush to his body.

  "There," the old priest said, moving the younger one aside. "We need access to the tenderest parts of his body, where it'll hurt most. Demons hate pain. "

  Well, there you go then. . . . He had enough that no demon should ever bother him.

  The priest went to the cauldron and pulled a thick leather glove onto his left hand. He stirred the coals with the tip of a poker before bringing it over. Whispering a prayer, the priest placed his hand against Styxx's scrotum, moving it aside before he laid the rod down on the uppermost inner part of Styxx's thigh.

  Styxx screamed so hard from the pain that it caused a vocal fold hemorrhage. Tears streamed down his face as the searing burn drove all other pain from his attention. It was the most excruciating thing he'd ever felt. The smell of his burning flesh made him heave as the priest pulled the poker off his leg.

  "That's it. Fetch me another rod. "

  Styxx tried to fight, but it was no use. All he could do was lie here and take whatever they did. And with every poker placed on him, he hated his father. But most of all, he hated the gods who had done this to him.

  And deep in his heart, he hated Acheron. If not for his brother, none of this would be happening. It was Acheron's silver eyes that betrayed their origins. Acheron who couldn't hide among people.

  Acheron's pain that had made him fall today.

  Banging his head against the stone, Styxx wished himself dead. Why hadn't his mother killed him last year? Why?

  But no matter how hard he prayed, the gods refused to take mercy on him. Prince or not, his sole purpose in this life was to suffer and to bleed.

  And he was sick of it.

  Please, gods . . . please someone help me!

  June 22, 9535 BC

  "Apollo?" Dionysus popped into his brother's open golden temple on Olympus to stand in front of him. "I know how much you love things of great beauty so I must show you this. " He flashed out of the room.

  Sighing in deep aggravation, Apollo set aside the lyre he'd been strumming when his half brother Dionysus had decided to annoy him. "Where are you, Dion? I have no intention of playing this game. "

  With short dark brown hair, Dionysus returned to stand in front of him. "Don't take that tone with me, brother. Trust me. You want to see what I have in my Didymosian temple. "

  This time, Apollo followed, and drew up short as he saw the beautiful young man someone had thoughtfully chained to the wall. Even with his hair sheared off, the boy had features that appeared to have been chiseled by the gods themselves. Never had he seen such handsomeness in the mortal realm.

  "Is he part god?"

  Dionysus shook his head. "Purely human. But look at those amazing eyes. Couldn't you stare at them forever?"

  Truly. They were a perfect, riveting blue. The same intense blue of the Aegean that Apollo had always favored.

  The young man's condition, however, was deplorable. "Why is he tied and bleeding?"

  Dionysus took a deep drink of his wine then passed the kylix over to Apollo. "The idiots think I've possessed him. "

  "Have you?"

  "No, but I was thinking you might want to. " Dionysus gave him a lecherous grin.

  Smiling, Apollo swallowed his drink before he returned the cup and approached the human male. It was quite true that he was attracted to any beautiful human, male or female. They each had their advantages and fun.

  And even scarred by the priests, this one was still well beyond the beauty of any Apollo had seen in a long time.

  Dionysus moved to stand next to him. "I know he's still a bit young, but-"

  "He's the age of Ganymede. " Like this one, Ganymede had been born a human mortal. A prince of Troy. His flawless beauty had attracted Zeus, who'd brought him to Olympus to serve as their cupbearer . . . among other things. Yet Ganymede was nowhere near as handsome as this boy. Even bleeding and in need of a bath, he made Apollo's mouth water for a taste of that golden skin. And those lips . . . Full and perfect, they'd been made for kissing.

  Dionysus moved to the opposite side of the boy. "He's the prince and heir to Didymos. I figured if nothing else, we could tag him for later use. "

  Apollo snorted. "Tag him? Dear brother, I want to nail him. "

  Dionysus slid his gaze down the prince's body. "He does have the nicest ass you'll ever see, and the priests were kind enough to secure his important parts from harm. " He drained his kylix. "And you'll be happy to know he's hung like a god. . . . Should I leave you two alone?"

  "Unless you wish to watch. "

  Dionysus arched a curious brow. "Will you share?"

  * * *

  Styxx scowled as the air around him stirred. One second he was alone. In the next, there were two men in the room with him. Tall and dark-haired, they were clean-shaven and dressed as noblemen and not priests.

  "Do you know who we are, prince?" the one on his right asked.

  Unable to speak past his raw and sore throat, Styxx shook his head.

  "You should. You've been summoning us for quite some time now. "

  Gods? Styxx tried to say the word, but nothing came out.

  The one on his right leaned in to whisper intimately. "Have you a name?"

  It took him several heartbeats to muster a sound. "Styxx. " It came out as a hoarse croak.

  "So, Styxx," the other one said, leaning in on his left side. He ran his hand down Styxx's chest, raising chills all over him. "You've been calling out to all the gods on Olympus for rescue. . . . Would you like us to free you?"

  Desperate to be away from the torture, he nodded.

  The other god began stroking his undamaged nipple. Licking his lips, he smiled down at Styxx. "For every favor you're granted, young prince, you have to give us something. But you don't appear to have anything to offer . . . other than yourself. " The god covered Styxx's lips with his own and kissed him passionately.

  Crying out, Styxx turned his head away and did his best to get free.

  The other god tsked at him. "Would you really rather be tortured than to have us free you?" It was his turn to kiss him.

  Styxx gagged.

  Offended, the god pulled back to glare at him. "Now that was just rude. " He jerked the linen off Styxx's hips, leaving him completely naked.

  Terror consumed him at what they intended. "Please don't," he breathed.

  The one who'd exposed him slid his gaze to the other. "Rape is your thing, not mine. Although, at the moment, I can see the appeal. Still. . . " He returned his attention to Styxx. "Your last chance, dearest. Who would you rather have play with this luscious body of yours? Me or the priests?"

  Styxx glared at him and answered without hesitation. "The priests. "

  "Very well. You have chosen. " He handed the cloth to the other god. "Troo to peridromo. " Eat a bellyful. . . .

  Then he vanished.

  Apollo bit his lip again as he ran his gaze down the length of the prince's bare body. He let it linger at the hipbone . . . one of his favorite things to nibble. "You would really rather be tortured than spend a day in my bed?"

  The prince nodded vigorously.

  Offended, Apollo sighed. "I should warn you. Bad things happen to those who deny me. " He pressed his body against the full length of the prince then buried his lips against his neck.

  Styxx fought him like a lion.

  Too bad. "Fine then, human. If I can't toy with you one way, I'll have you another. "

  Styxx's eyes widened as he saw the god's canine teeth elongate into a set of sharp fangs. The god lowered his head so that he could bite Styxx's jugular. Pain tore through him like fire. He would have cried out, but no sound came as the god drank from his blood. The room spun as wave after wave of dizziness consumed him.

  Time hung still as Styxx felt his willpower drain out.

  After a few minutes, he was so weak from blood loss that he could barely hold his head up. The bite left him panting and in excruciating pain. Smiling down at him, the god cupped his cheek and angled his head until their gazes locked. The god licked Styxx's blood from his lips then leaned in to lick the remnants from Styxx's neck.

  He nipped Styxx's chin. "I own you now, little human. You are forever bound to me. " He brushed his hand over Styxx's chest. "I could make you beg me to take you. But I think as punishment for your rejection, I'll let the priests do it for me. I shall leave you to their tender care, and when you tire of it, call to me for rescue and I'll grant it. " He kissed him again, only this time it was rough and extremely painful. "Just remember what the payment is for your release. You will willingly come to my bed for a week. And you will gladly take my cock wherever it is I wish to put it. "

  Sucking his breath in sharply between his fangs, he gave Styxx's body one last once-over. "I'll be waiting, little prince. But don't make me wait too long. Otherwise, you will regret it. I promise you. " Then he was gone.

  Even more horrified than he'd been before, Styxx hung by his arms, hating everyone, and everything about his life. So, the Olympian gods had answered him with something far worse than what he was facing.

  I can't believe it.

  Either way, he was going to have a rod shoved up his ass. . . .

  If he was smart, he'd accept the god's offer and be done with this place. Surely being a god's concubine would be better than the torture they'd been putting him through.

  Then again, given his father's careless disregard for his lovers. . . .

  Styxx definitely didn't want to be one of those. While the priests would scar his body, they did have fear of his father's wrath should they deform him too much.

  The god would fear nothing. And while the Olympian wouldn't leave physical scars, he'd leave them on Styxx's heart and in his soul. Something he knew would never heal.

  So be it.

  Like everything else in my life, I can suffer this in silence.

  He had no choice.

  August 26, 9535 BC

  Mentally numb and cold, Styxx stared at the wall before him while he lay on his side, aching all over. It even hurt to blink his eyes. He had no idea how long he'd been undergoing his "treatments" for madness. The torture sessions had long ago blurred together as the priests sought to drive the demons from him.

  In the end, it had done nothing except scar his body and make his headaches even more severe than they'd been before. Most of all, it made him hate every single member of his family. And every god who lived on Olympus.

  The door behind him opened.

  Tears filled his eyes as he waited for them to drag him back to the room he'd learned to despise with every part of his being. "Come, Highness. You have a visitor. "

  Visitor? Could his father have finally come to get him?

  Styxx tried to stand, but his legs were too weak to support his weight. The priest moved forward and covered his naked body with a rough cloak then pulled him up by his arm. Styxx let out a groan as his blistered side contacted with the priest's scratchy stola. Ignoring it, the priest helped him walk down the hall to the last room on the left. The priest opened the door then pushed him through it.

  His legs buckled as the door was shut behind him.

  "Styxx?"

  He lifted his head to find his uncle moving closer.

  "Dear Zeus, what have they done to you?"

  Styxx couldn't answer. His throat was too raw from the screams his treatments had wrung from him.

  Estes cradled him in his arms like an infant. "Can you speak?"

  Styxx shook his head, wincing as more pain went through him.

  "Here. " Estes pulled a small skin of wine from his belt and held it for him to sip.

  It burned, but tasted wonderful. He hadn't had anything but spoiled milk, fouled water, and other disgusting things that were designed to drive the demons from his body. Swallowing hard, he licked his dry, cracked lips. "P-p-please, Uncle," he whispered. "Take me home. "

  Estes ground his teeth as his eyes flared with anger. "I can't, little squirrel. Xerxes said that you have to stay here until you're healed. He would be furious if I took you home without his consent. "

  A tear slid down Styxx's cheek at those words, burning the wounds that were left from blows he no longer felt when they were given. So much for Estes's boasts of bravery in battle. In the end, he, who lived in a foreign country, was as scared of his father as everyone else.

  Fucking coward.

  "I'll speak to your father on your behalf. Has he been here to see you?"

  Styxx shook his head.

  "I will get you out of here, I promise. Gods, I can't believe Xerxes has condoned this. " Estes laid him back on the floor. "I'll be back as soon as I can. "

  Don't leave me. Please, Uncle. I can't take any more. I can't.

  I'm just a boy. . . .

  But his uncle was gone before he could get one word out.

  His breathing labored and pain-filled, Styxx realized that for the first time in months he wasn't locked up. If he could get to the door Estes had used, he might be able to escape. Seizing that hope, he forced himself to ignore the agony of his bleeding burns and wounds to crawl across the ragged cobblestone floor. It took several minutes, but he finally reached the door.

  Joy spread through him as he rose to his knees and touched the latch.

  Almost there . . .

  Styxx was so close to freedom now that he could taste it on his parched tongue.

  He'd just freed the latch when the door behind him opened. Terrified, he shoved against the wood and forced himself to stand. As he tried to run, someone slammed into him, knocking him to the ground.

  No!

  Roughly, a priest rolled him over and crashed Styxx's bruised body against the stone. "Where do you think you're going, Highness?"

  Back to Tartarus.

  Styxx turned his head so that he saw rays of sunlight through an open window in the temple hall. He hadn't seen the sun since his father had dumped him here. Without a word, he reached for it, wanting to feel it just one more time. But the priest seized him and dragged him back to his dark cell where he left him alone.

  Closing his eyes, Styxx did his best to remember what the sun had felt like on his skin as he heard the door lock him in his misery. He hadn't been crazy when they'd put him here, but with every passing day, he felt his sanity slipping. He did his best to hold on to it, yet what was the use?

  "Why? Why can't you kill me or take my mind?" Styxx silently asked the god who came so often to torment him.

  "All you have to do is say the magic word, little prince. You know my price. "

  Tears filled Styxx's eyes. "I will not be your whore. My freedom's not worth it. "

  "No?" the god mocked. "Well then have fun with your priests. "

  August 30, 9535 BC

  "We've had progress. But the evil daemons are attracted by his great beauty and wealth. They are fighting us hard. "

  Styxx opened his eyes as he heard the priest entering his torture chamber. For a full minute, he couldn't breathe as he saw his uncle and father with the old man.

  His lips quivered as hope went through him. Was it finally over? Surely his father couldn't leave him like this. . . . Not if he loved him.

  Estes rushed to his side and placed a tender hand on his bald head. "Styxx? Can you hear me?"

  He gave a weak nod.

  A tic started in his jaw as Estes looked back at his father. "See what I was telling you? They've ruined him. "

  Styxx met his father's gaze, but the lack of feeling there hit him harder than the priests' blows. How could his father not be indignant or horrified?

  Something . . .

  But the king stood there, stoically. Unsympathetic to his pain. "It's for his own good, brother. "

  For his own good . . .

  Styxx would laugh if those words didn't bite so deeply.

  "How can you say that? Look at him. They've scarred him abysmally. He'll never be the same. "

  "The scars are necessary, Highness and Majesty. They keep the daemons from coveting his young body. "

  But they didn't keep the gods from coveting it. The irony of that sickened him even more.

  Estes cursed. "This is insane, Xerxes. The boy needs to go home. "

  I don't want him home again until he's normal. Burn it all out of him.

  Styxx winced as he heard his father's cold, brutal thoughts.

  "Do you still suffer from headaches?" his father asked him.

  He knew better than to say anything other than what his father wanted to hear. "No, Majesty. "

  "You're lying. "

  Styxx panted in desperate panic. "Please, Father. I'll do anything you ask. Please don't leave me here. "

  "That's the daemon in him talking. Hear how his voice has changed, Majesty? How hoarse and deep?"

  Daemon? Was the old man as crazy as he accused him of being? He was hoarse from months of screaming.

  His father was pitiless. Now you understand what it means to be king. You can't allow your emotions to cloud your actions or judgments. You do what you have to. His father's thoughts made him ill. "You need to stay until the priests clear you of your daemons. "

  Styxx sobbed aloud at the horror his father was relegating him to. He couldn't help himself. The agony was too brutal for him to bear anymore.

  The king turned toward the priests with a curled lip. "And for the sake of all the gods, can you stop him from bawling like a woman? I'm sick of it and he's too old to weep like that. " How could I sire something so weak and pathetic?

  Styxx glared at him, hating everything about his father. Let me chain you to a stone and burn you to the marrow of your bones, you skatophage. See then if you cry or not. . . .

  Furious at Styxx for crying, his father stormed out with the priests trailing behind him.

  Estes touched his bruised cheek. "I'm so sorry, Styxx. I'll keep trying to convince him to release you. I will do my best for you, I promise. "

  And then Estes, too, was gone.

  Styxx's gaze fell to the old scar on his forearm where his father had cut him years ago. The king still didn't really believe he was his son. How could he leave him here to suffer if he thought it?

  I am alone in this world.

  Except for Acheron. That lucky bastard was with Estes, who had some love for them. Surely his uncle was taking better care of his brother than this.

  But the phantom pains he felt at times in horrifying places on his body made him wonder. Something caused injury to Acheron. . . .

  And it, too, was highly unpleasant.

  The door opened again. "Time to be bled again, Highness. "

  Styxx slammed his eyes shut so that he wouldn't see the leeches they were about to cover him with. His stomach heaved in revulsion as all reason abandoned him.

  I'm never going home. Unless he agreed to be a god's whore, this was his lot. He might as well learn to accept it. Hope was nothing more than a fickle bitch who mocked him daily.

  Grinding his teeth, he tried to block out the pain and the priests. To dream of a place where someone might learn to love him.

  But he knew such a place didn't exist. He had been damned from birth and there was no comfort for those the gods had damned. No peace.

  No haven.

  Bitter, and filled with hatred, he laughed out loud. "Go on and bleed me, you suagroi. Take all my blood. " If he was bloodless then maybe the god who kept coming to him would leave him alone.

  "Don't look at him. It's the demon taunting us. We're finally making progress. "

  No, they weren't. They were turning him into something he didn't want to be.

  His father.

  Cold. Callous. Unfeeling.