Styxx (DH #33)

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  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.”

  Requests … He loved whenever his father used such words. As if Styxx had a choice in the matter. If he didn’t go, his father would be furious.

  He shook his head to clear it then pushed himself to his feet.

  The maid didn’t budge as he neared her. Instead of moving out of his way, she planted herself so that he’d have to brush up against her lush body to leave.

  Biting her lip, she gave him a hot, needful look. “Would you like for me to prep your room while you’re away, Highness? I could easily be here on your return.” I’d make the best mistress you’ve ever seen. I could and would gladly suck your nectar until you’re blind from it.…

  She was beautiful and tempting. But right now, his mark was still plainly obvious. He’d been lucky the physician hadn’t seen it. The last thing he wanted was her gossiping to the rest of the servants about their whore prince.

  “No, thank you.”

  She poked her lip out into a seductive pout. “Perhaps later, Highness?” If I could carry a royal bastard, I’d never have to work again.

  That quelled his erection better than an icy bath. Unlike his progenitor, he didn’t believe in abandoning the children he fathered. The world and people were far too cruel for that. “No. Thank you.”

  He left her and headed to where his father was waiting out in the bright sunshine that split his head with pain. Holding his hand up to shield his bloodshot eyes, he stopped next to the cushioned chair his father reclined on. “You summoned me, Majesty?”

  His father snorted. “I’d hoped it would take you longer to answer.”

  “How so?”

  “You were supposed to be enjoying the charms of the little minx I sent you. I’d hoped she would please you. She’s extremely talented. One of the best we have.”


  Great. Just what he wanted. One of his father’s cast-off whores.

  “Forgive me, Father. In the past, whenever I dawdled after a summons, you didn’t take it well.”

  His father laughed. “That is true. In the future, when I send a man or old woman for you, come swiftly. Should it be a winsome maid … take your time.” He gestured to the seat beside him. “Come and sit with me for a while. I have some things I wish to discuss with you.”

  His head still messed up quite a bit, Styxx moved to the chaise and did his best to keep his father from detecting his condition.

  A servant came forward to pour his wine then returned to a distance out of hearing range.

  “We may be going to war soon.”

  Styxx arched a brow at that. “With whom?”

  “The Arcadians. They’re encroaching on Corinth, and as you know, the Corinthians have long been allies of ours. King Clietus has requested a commitment of forces from me so that he can repel the Arcadians.”

  “Why are you conferring with me?”

  “I’d like to know what you would do if you were king.”

  “Meet with my advisors and not my inexperienced son.”

  His father actually laughed at that. “I have met with my advisors, and I’ve made my decision, but I wanted to know what you would do in my place.”

  Ah, that explained this futile lesson. “You’re testing me.”

  “I am, indeed.”

  “And if I fail?”

  “I’d rather you fail as prince than as a king.”

  Styxx took a small sip of wine and laid his head back while his thoughts whirled about. “What did your advisors say?”

  “That we owe it to the Corinthians to help them. They have been vital allies for a long time. They don’t believe we should make a new enemy when we don’t have to.… So tell me, boy, what would you do?”

  Make the decision when I’m not high.

  But he couldn’t tell his father that. So he answered to the best of his fogged mind with the lessons Galen had taught him. “The decision to go to war isn’t just about thinking what will happen if you win. It’s mostly thinking about what will happen should you fail, and weighing the benefits of winning against the consequences of losing. What I wouldn’t do is send good Didymosian men out to die for a king too weak to hold his throne on his own. If the Arcadians are set on Corinth, they won’t stop. They never do, and like the Dorians, their soldiers are fiercely trained professionals who are ruthless to their bitter cores.” Meanwhile the bulk of the Corinthian and Didymosian soldiers were ordinary citizens who only trained a few days each month, or two weeks a year. “The Arcadians hold much more territory and have four times the army of the Corinthians. Even if we send all we have trained, it won’t be enough to stop them, and the Corinthians will fall. Then, angry at us for our alliance and aid, the Arcadians will turn their sights to Didymos, knowing we’re now weakened from war, and unable to repel their greater army. Rather, I’d send an emissary, and tribute, to the Arcadian king to start an alliance with them. Especially since the Arcadians border the Dorians, who are our biggest threat. Should the Dorians ever turn their eyes on our wealth and lands, it would benefit us to have an alliance with the kingdom that borders them on the north and east while we have them on the south. Even with their greatly trained forces, the Dorians can’t win a war on three fronts against a united enemy with mutual disdain for them.”

  “Why should the Arcadians trust us after we’ve just broken an alliance with the Corinthians?”

  “What fool truly trusts an ally? The Arcadian king’s smarter than that, and he will understand and respect that you are too intelligent to be pulled into a losing war. Besides, he knows that an alliance with us could help him should the Dorians ever come after his holdings. If that’s not enough of a reason, the Arcadian king is recently widowed. Your virgin daughter is one of the most beautiful of all women in Greece. Offer her hand to sweeten the tie.”

  I should have thought of that.

  Styxx pretended not to have heard his father’s mental comment. “So what did you do, Father?”

  “I went with my advisors’ suggestion.” I wonder if we can call back the emissary.… He lifted his cup in salute to Styxx. “Perhaps it’s time I appoint you as one of my advisors.”

  Styxx scoffed. “Your advisors would be highly offended to have me in their ranks, given my age and war experience. They’d take it as a personal affront and think you’re mocking them with my presence.”

  His father frowned. “When did you become so good at diplomacy?”

  Birth. He’d been forced to navigate both his mother’s and his father’s capricious moods all his life. But his father had never asked his opinions before, and in the past, he’d been too sober to give them.

  His father narrowed his eyes at him. “Here’s my next question. Would you have the same answer if the Corinthians were led by a beautiful queen instead?”

  Styxx laughed at the thought.

  His laughter died an instant later as he looked up to see his sister approaching. By the pinched look on her face, he wondered if she hadn’t heard his suggestion to marry her off. She was in a fierce pique and didn’t care who knew it.

  That brought out the little brother in him and he couldn’t resist rankling her more. “Hey, it’s lamb-head. Where have you been, sweet sister?”

  “Away,” she snapped angrily with a glare that should have left him in bloody pieces on the ground. Rudely, she dismissed him and turned to address her king. “Father, might I have a word alone with you?”

  His father glanced at him before he answered. “Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of your brother. One day Styxx will be your king, too, and you will be answerable to him.”

  The expression on her face said that she couldn’t think of anything worse. If only she knew what true hell and misery were. But then no one had ever beaten her for any offense. And they’d never held her down and …

  Styxx winced at the vicious memories and lashed out at the one bitch who had slapped him every time she drew near. If not physically, verbally.

  He should be whipped, Father.… He’s nothing but a spoiled, selfish bully.

  Any time she could, she’d worsened his punishments. No doubt had she been on the hunting trip, she’d have encouraged them to be even rougher with him. Crueler.

  Had he been sober, he’d have probably said nothing to her. But today …

  “That’s right,” he said snidely, taking another drink of his wine. “That means you have to kiss my feet just like everyone else.”

  As if anyone ever had …

  His father laughed at him. “You’re such a scamp.”

  Ryssa bit her lip and pinned him with a glare that told him plainly she wished he were dead and burned. That she begrudged him every breath he took.

  “So why are you here, kitten?” their father asked. “Do you wish a new trinket or clothes?”

  “No. I want to bring Acheron home.”

  Styxx averted his gaze as those words went through him and made his heart skip a beat. Did she somehow know what Estes had done to them?

  His father sputtered indignantly. “Now see here, what has gotten into your foolish head? I’ve told you repeatedly how I feel. That monster doesn’t belong here.”

  Panicked terror spread through Styxx as he brushed his hand against the words Estes had branded into his groin. If his father sent for Acheron now, Estes might expose both of them just for vindictive meanness.

  And how could Styxx deny what was clearly branded onto his body?

  In fact, there was no telling what Estes would do, or Acheron, for that matter. His brother had gone crazy when Styxx had tried to free him. Acheron was completely docile and submissive to Estes’s every whim.

  What if Acheron said that Styxx had been a willing participant? That he’d begged them to whore him …

  Styxx curled his lip and spoke out loud before he could stop himself. “Why would you
want him here? He’s a danger to all of us.”

  “A danger how?”

  In ways you can’t even begin to fathom, little girl.

  The king glared at her. “You don’t know what a demigod is capable of. He could kill your brother while he sleeps, kill me, kill all of us.”

  Acheron could tell the entire kingdom that I’m a whore he helped to train.… No doubt, she’d enjoy seeing his humiliation made public. To know how he’d been degraded and abused.

  For Acheron, she’d weep. For him, she’d only laugh.

  I hope you get what you deserve.…

  Ryssa stamped her foot. “Why do you not fear for Estes?”

  “Estes keeps him under control.”

  Styxx ground his teeth as those words echoed in his head. So his father knew that Estes drugged his brother. For that matter, he might even know that Estes beat Acheron into submission. And why should he care? The gods had borne witness that his father had very seldom spared him a beating.

  For all he knew, his father had sent Estes the whips he used on Acheron. That thought sickened him to the point he almost vomited.

  What else did his father know?

  “Acheron belongs here, with us,” Ryssa said, her voice cracking with her emotion.

  Their father came to his feet. “You are a woman, Ryssa, and a young one at that. Your mind is best occupied with fashion and decorating. Planning your dress for a party. Acheron doesn’t belong in this family. He never will. Now go find your mother and gossip. Styxx and I have important matters to discuss.”

  She glared at them both. “Matters more important than your own son?”

  “He is not my son!”

  Those words slashed at Styxx’s heart. Every time his father said them, a part of him died. Because he knew the truth.

  There was no way to legitimately deny one twin and embrace the other. The scar on his arm testified to the king’s doubt where Styxx was concerned.

  Just like Acheron …

  Ryssa shook her head. “So that whole story you told me about protecting Acheron was wrong?”

  Their father scowled. “What are you talking about?”

  Her lips quivered before she answered. “You told me when they took Acheron away that you were doing it to protect him. You said that two heirs shouldn’t be raised together, as it would be an added target to enemies. You said you would bring Acheron home when he was old enough. You never intended to return him here, did you?”