His back burned in sympathetic pain for his brother’s wounds. He still didn’t know how he’d made it through dinner without crying or screaming from the agony, but now that he was alone, he could writhe and moan in peace.
Why can’t I just die already?
Surely death would be better than living like this. How could one head hurt so much and not render the victim dead or brain damaged?
How?
Sucking his breath in sharply between his teeth, he heard someone at his door. He froze in panic. It couldn’t be Acheron. They were both in too much pain to leave their beds.
The door opened to show his father in the dim firelight. This couldn’t be a good thing. His father never disturbed him at night.
What have I done now?
That was a stupid thought. He’d done nothing. Rather, what does he believe I’ve done?
Styxx squeezed his eyes shut, feigning sleep and praying that his father would leave him in peace. Instead, his father sat on the edge of his bed. Styxx held his breath, terrified of what this meant. Why was he here? What could he possibly want with him at this hour?
I didn’t do anything.…
He’d been on his best behavior for weeks now. Only Acheron had been acting out lately. Not that he blamed his brother. They were both tired of how they were treated.
His father sank his fingers into Styxx’s hair. His hand was so large that he was able to cradle the whole of Styxx’s head in his massive palm.
Styxx’s eyes flew open as he waited for the pain he was sure would follow.
Yet his father began running his hand through Styxx’s blond curls, toying with them, brushing them back from his face. Maybe he wasn’t angry with him, after all. Hoping for the best, he met his father’s gaze in the firelight, but didn’t dare speak a word. There was rare tenderness in his father’s gaze, mixed with concern.
“You remind me much of Estes when he was a boy. Things you say and do … It makes me think of our childhood together and how much I miss it. Even this was his room back then.…” His father brushed his thumb over Styxx’s brow and smiled at the memories. Suddenly, the smell of alcohol on the king’s breath hit him hard. His father was terribly drunk.
Biting his lip, Styxx prayed that his father wouldn’t fly into one of the legendary rages that his mother had whenever she fell too deeply into her cups.
“He was my only friend. He still is. You’ve no idea what it’s like to have a brother like him. One you can trust who would never do anything to betray you.”
His father was wrong about that. Acheron was the best friend anyone could ask for. Not even Estes could equal him.
Leaning closer, his father squinted at him while he held his chin in his hand. He turned Styxx’s head so that he could study his face from different angles. “You look like us … but are you really my son?”
“Father—”
“Don’t speak to me!”
Styxx clamped his jaw shut as another wave of terror washed over him. What would his father do?
His father pulled the blanket back so that he could rudely inspect every inch of Styxx’s entire body. “You look so human.…”
Styxx wanted to scream as pain racked him hard whenever his father touched the areas of his small body bruised by Acheron’s beating. But he didn’t dare let his father know he was hurting when there was no obvious reason for it.
His father rolled him onto his back. Styxx’s jaw quivered as tears filled his eyes. There’d been a good reason why he’d been lying on his stomach. His breathing labored, he watched as his father pulled the knife from his belt.
Is he going to kill me?
“But are you human? I have to know.” Before Styxx could move or react, his father seized his forearm in a merciless grip then he violently slashed it open. Unable to hold back, Styxx cried out as blood covered his arm and soaked his sheets.
“Sweet Hera,” his father breathed. “What have I done?” He clutched at Styxx’s wounded arm, trying to stanch the blood flow. “I’m so sorry, Styxx. Forgive me, child.”
His hands shaking, his father wrapped Styxx’s arm with cloth he tore from Styxx’s sheets then he pulled him into his arms and rocked him while Styxx silently sobbed. “Shh, little one. It’s all right. It’s all right.…”
But it wasn’t and Styxx knew it. From the moment of his birth, his father had questioned his parentage. If not in words, then by the unguarded glares Styxx would see whenever they were alone.
“It’s not your fault, child. It’s that demon bastard. He’s to blame for all of this. He’s the one who makes me doubt you. Every time I see his face … It fills me with such violence.”
Not just Acheron’s face. It was his face, too.
His father cupped his head in his large hand and kissed his brow then his cheek. “You are my baby boy. The heir I prayed and sacrificed to the gods for. I know you are. I know it.” Tears filled his eyes as he cast a suspicious glare at Styxx. “Aren’t you?”
How could he answer a question when he wasn’t sure either? His father sensed the very thing he knew for a fact. That he wasn’t right. He wasn’t normal. While Acheron had the eyes of a god, Styxx was the one who felt phantom pains from wounds given to his brother. He was the one who heard stray thoughts of random people. Heard the voices of gods much louder than Acheron did. He sensed other people’s emotions and intended actions, even when they tried to conceal them, and he knew the weather without fail.
But the worst were the merciless headaches that plagued him all the time.
Maybe I’m not human.…
In all honesty, Acheron seemed to be far more normal than he did.
“Answer me!” his father growled. “Are you my son?”
There was only one answer to give. Right or wrong. “Y-y-yes.”
His father placed Styxx’s head under his chin and wept while he continued to rock him. He didn’t let go again until well after dawn. Then, he laid Styxx down on his bed and tucked him into his bloodstained sheets as if nothing had happened. Kissing Styxx’s brow, he gave his shoulder a light squeeze then left him alone.
Scared and hurt, Styxx stared at the makeshift bandage his father had wrapped and knotted around his forearm. His hand shaking, he peeled it back to see what he’d suspected … he was already healing from the vicious wound. By the end of the day, it would be almost completely gone, with only a scar to mark its location.
I’m not human any more than Acheron is.
And his father would absolutely kill him if he ever learned the truth of it.
August 30, 9541 BC
Styxx opened his bedroom door to find Acheron on the other side of it. He let out a relieved breath. “Thank the gods it’s you.”
“Why is your door locked again?”
He shrugged, not wanting to tell Acheron or anyone else about the midnight visit from the king. Since February, he’d made sure to lock and block his door every night lest he receive another unwelcomed surprise.
“What are you doing here?” Styxx asked, trying to deflect his brother’s attention away from a question he had no intention of answering.
“I brought your present to you from Estes. You left it downstairs. After what happened last year, I wanted to make sure you got to keep this one.”
Styxx took the wooden horse from Acheron’s hand and offered a smile he didn’t feel.
You deserve nothing until you learn how to conduct yourself civilly and with honor. His father’s cruel words still haunted him.
“Thank you, Acheron.” Styxx moved to place the horse on the chest by his window where he kept his collection of them. After last year’s nightmare, he hadn’t felt the same about his wooden horses. Instead of being a source of pride and pleasure, all they reminded him of was his father forcing him to burn the beautiful Atlantean horse Estes had brought him while his legs had ached from his beating and his ego from wetting himself. And all the while Ryssa had smirked in pleasure of his being forced to destroy his gift over his “insu
lt” to her.
Sighing, he moved away from the chest. “A set of beads from us both.”
Acheron scowled. “What?”
Styxx met Acheron’s deep frown. “What what? You asked me what I got Mother for her birthday.”
“No, I didn’t. I only thought about asking you.”
Styxx ground his teeth as he realized that he’d read Acheron’s mind. You better be more careful. Such a slip around someone else could be fatal. “It must be our twin blood.” That was always a safe bet whenever he was with Acheron. His brother accepted that explanation without question or malice.
Grabbing the small wooden box from his table, he took it over to Acheron. “You want to give it to her?”
He shook his head. “You better do it. She’d prefer it from you, I think.”
And he’d prefer not to see her at all. Most of the times he was with their mother, she looked at him as if she could go through him. “Shall we get this over with?”
“I’m game if you are.”
Honestly, I’d rather have my eyes gouged out and fed to me.
But part of being a king was doing things you didn’t want to without complaint or hesitation. Head high. Back straight. Show no emotion. Even if you were only seven years old.
Styxx clutched the box to his chest, dreading it already. “Maybe she’ll still be passed out and we can leave it with her maids.”
Hoping for the best outcome, he took Acheron’s hand and led him through the back hallways of the palace to their mother’s rooms.
At the door, Styxx hesitated for so long that Acheron moved around him and knocked in his stead. A few seconds later, the oldest maid opened it to stare down her nose at them.
Styxx ignored her disdain. “We’ve come to wish the queen a happy birthday. Is she awake?”
Without a word, the maid stepped back, opening the door wide enough to allow them to enter the room. Their mother sat in a chair near the window, staring out it.
Unsure of her mood, Styxx hesitated. Why did his powers always fail him when he needed them most?
“Is she sober?” Acheron whispered in his ear.
“I don’t know.”
Their mother let out an exasperated sigh. “Will you two stop whispering. Either come in or leave. Preferably the latter.”
Styxx started to go.
Acheron pushed him forward.
Thanks, brother.…
Crossing the room, Styxx held the box out toward her.
She frowned at it. “What’s this?”
“Happy birthday, Mother,” they said in unison.
A rare smile lit her face as she took the box and opened it to find the shell bead necklace Styxx had bought in the marketplace. Hoping to please her, he’d traded one of his carved horses for it.
“Thank you.” She pulled him into a cold, mechanical hug.
Bug-eyed, Styxx met Acheron’s gaping stare. Before he realized what Acheron was doing, his brother stepped forward.
“Happy birthday, Mother.” Acheron moved to hug her.
Shrieking in outrage, she slapped him hard across his face. “Get away from me, you repulsive monster!”
Styxx’s nose exploded with blood as pain permeated his cheek, skull, and eye. Damn, for a sot, his mother could pack a wallop.
She continued to rail against them as they ran for the door and then down the hallway. They didn’t stop until they’d reached the bottom of the stairs.
His breathing labored, Acheron turned to face him. “Why do they do that to me?”
“I don’t know. They’re crazy.”
“What in the name of Zeus happened to you?”
Styxx flinched at the sound of his father’s angry voice as he wiped at the blood on his face. He cringed over the sight of blood droplets on his white chiton. Few things upset his father more than for him to be disheveled in public.
“Did you hit him?” he accused Acheron.
Acheron shook his head.
“Liar!” He moved to take his arm.
“Father, no!” Styxx blocked him from attacking his brother.
Acheron ducked then ran like mad up the stairs and out of sight.
His father started after Acheron, but Styxx grabbed his arm and held him in place. “He didn’t do it, Father. It’s just another nosebleed. I get them all the time.”
“Xerxes?”
Styxx glanced past his father to see his uncle closing the distance between them. “Uncle, please tell him that Acheron didn’t harm me. It’s nothing.”
Estes passed a skeptical look from Styxx to his father. “It doesn’t look like nothing to me, child. Rather, that’s a severe injury on your face. It’s obvious someone hit you.”
“It wasn’t Acheron.” Styxx let go of his father so that he could hold his nostrils together to contain the bleeding. “I shall be fine, Father. I’m sorry for the mess.” Hoping he’d given Acheron enough time to hide, he left them and went to his room to clean his nose and change his clothes.
He’d barely finished dressing a few minutes later when he heard Acheron and Ryssa yelling. What in the name of Olympus?
Normally, he was the one screaming with Ryssa. It wasn’t like Acheron to get crossed up with her for anything. But as he left his room, he realized it was something far worse than a fight between siblings.…
Soldiers were dragging his brother down the stairs, toward the front door. Terrified, Styxx ran after them. He didn’t catch up until they were in the drive outside. He tried to reach his brother, but his father held him back while Estes carried Acheron away in his arms.
Styxx glared at his father. “What’s going on?”
“Estes is taking him to live in Atlantis.”
That was an even harder blow than the one that still stung his face. “What? No! No!”
Styxx tried to break out of his father’s hold to get to his brother, who was fighting Estes every bit as hard.
“It’s for the best. He’s a danger to all of us, especially you.”
How could they be so stupid? His brother was the only one who would never intentionally hurt him. “Acheron! Please, Father! Don’t take my brother from me! Please!”
“Styxx!” Acheron held his hands out toward him while Styxx did everything he could to get to him.
No one listened to them. Nor did they take pity or mercy on the boys.
Heartbroken, Styxx fought his father’s hold and watched as his uncle and brother rode out of sight. And as they went, he knew that Estes hadn’t just taken his brother from him.
He’d taken everything.…
* * *
Completely devastated by the loss of Acheron’s company, Styxx pushed the door open to Ryssa’s room. Her sobs had been relentless. For hours now, he’d listened to her give free vocal rein to the same emotions that flogged him. But if he cried as she did for Acheron, his father would have him beaten for it.
The desolate loneliness was terrible. It was as if someone had cut off his arm and thrashed him with it. He felt bereft and betrayed. Without Acheron, he had no one to turn to. No one to talk to. No one who would hug him or make sure he was all right when he hurt.
He was all alone and completely desperate for something to hold on to, even if it meant embracing the big sister who hated him.
“Ryssa?”
She pulled away from her nurse who’d been holding her, trying to comfort her pain. Drawing a ragged breath, she glared at him as if it was his fault Acheron was gone. “What do you want, you selfish little beast?”
Styxx bit his lip in indecision. Her mood was extremely volatile. But what did he have to lose now? “I could be your little brother, too … like Acheron.”
She curled her lip as more tears fell down her face. “You? You’re the reason they took my brother from me. Just because you look like him, it doesn’t make you what he is. You could never be my Acheron. You’re just a poor copy of him. Get out of my sight. You sicken me.” Wailing, she buried her head against her nurse’s shoulder. The old woman p
atted her lovingly while they ignored him entirely.
“But I could love you, too, sister. If you’d let me.”
Shrieking, she shot from her nurse and grabbed his arm. “I don’t want your love, you brat. You know nothing of loving others. Only yourself.” She shoved him out the door and slammed it shut in his face.
Styxx’s lips quivered as he stared at the closed door with tears in his eyes. “I could learn to love if only one of you would teach me how,” he whispered.
But none of them wanted to love him and he knew it. The only person who’d loved him was gone now. Stolen away from him.
I have no one. And he hated being alone. Twins weren’t born to be apart. He was only one half of a whole.
Brothers, forever and always.
That had been their pact. Styxx wiped at the tears in his eyes as he went to Acheron’s room. But there was nothing here. Like his heart and soul, it was empty. The only possession left behind was Acheron’s flat, worn pillow.
With tears streaming down his face, he went to the bed and pulled the pillow into his arms then went to his own room. He held his fist to his mouth to stifle his sobs as he placed Acheron’s pillow on the floor next to the wall. Lying down on it, he pressed his spine to the wall and then his feet, trying to pretend it was his brother at his back. But the wall was so cold, and while the pillow smelled of Acheron, it just wasn’t the same.
It couldn’t hold his hand or speak to him with comforting words. It was just a pillow.
His brother was gone from his world. The grief and agony were so fierce he couldn’t bear it. It felt as if someone had reached into his chest and yanked his heart out.
“What am I to do?”
Styxx glanced at his wooden horses and saw the one Acheron had brought to him earlier that day. Rage clouded his sight. How dare Estes give him that and then take Acheron. Did he think a stupid horse could replace his brother’s love?
Did he?
Unable to stand it, he ran to the chest and smashed all of the finely carved horses to pieces. He stomped them on the floor until they were splintered. He didn’t want to see them again. Ever!
When he came to the last whole one, he stopped. It was the horse Ryssa had given Acheron for their birthday two years back.
Styxx (DH #33) Page 5