Styxx obeyed and carefully placed his cloak on his desk. Stifling a groan, he sat down and sighed. Earlier in the day’s fighting he’d been kicked back into a broken wooden lance that had stabbed him through the armhole of his armor.
Next time Bethany gave him a token for protection, he’d make sure she included wooden objects.
And clumsiness.
“You told them my birthday had passed?” Styxx asked.
Galen shrugged. “I mentioned it in passing to Gaius three days ago. I had no idea they’d do this.”
Styxx felt tears prick his eyes over the unexpected gift that meant so much to him. But he wasn’t about to let Galen see him weeping like an old woman. “I hope you didn’t tell him my age.”
“I’m not a fool, Highness. While they know you are young, there’s no need in their learning just how green their esteemed victorious leader really is. It might send them screaming for home.”
It might indeed.
Ten-and-eight. Barely. And yet he felt ancient.
Changing the subject, Styxx took a drink of wine. “Have you heard from your Antigone?” They’d received a messenger earlier in the day, and it was rare for one not to have at least one missive or gift for Galen from his daughter.
Galen pulled a shell necklace out from under his cuirass then took a seat next to Styxx so that he could hand it to him. “She and my granddaughter sent this. They are all well and can’t wait to see my grizzled face again. What of your family?”
“All well,” Styxx guessed. Yet honestly, he didn’t know for sure. No one, not even his father, had contacted him. He assumed if Didymos had been invaded or something had befallen them, his family would have sent word.
But day after day, when messages came for him they were from other military commanders and kings, and had to do with the war, not with wishes for his health. Though to be honest, he liked to think that Bethany, in spite of her blindness, would have sent things to him had she known his real name. For all he knew, she’d tried numerous times.
At least that was he hoped and pretended.
Not wanting to contemplate his fear that she’d found another man in his absence, Styxx jerked his chin toward the table where his maps were spread out. “I was reviewing our progress. We should hit the mainland shore of Atlantis in four days.”
“I heard from the messenger earlier that the boats are being prepped. Our men are eager to dance in Apollymi’s hall on capital hill.”
Over the last months, they had conquered six of the outlying islands and held them until more Greek forces had been sent to occupy them while Styxx marched toward the Atlantean capital. He was the only one who’d had any kind of success against their stronger enemy. From what they heard through messengers, the rest of the Greek forces were being obliterated by their enemies at home.
But if Styxx and his army could make the Atlantean capital and breach the palace there, they would win this war in spite of the losses the other armies had taken. He couldn’t wait for it.
“Have you ever been to the Atlantean capital, Highness?”
Styxx tried not to think about the last time he’d seen his brother and the hurtful things they had both said to each other. “I have.”
“Is it as advanced as they say?”
Another thing he’d rather not have diverting his attention. “It is.”
Galen met his gaze over the map. “Do you really think we can win this, Highness?”
“Yes, I do.” And Styxx fully intended to ram his retribution down a number of aristocratic Atlantean throats.
Both for him and for Acheron.
August 10, 9530 BC
Bethany pulled back to watch the Stygian Omada break through another line of Atlantean defenses in spite of her people’s superlative abilities. While her brethren were winning the fight on Greek soil and annihilating their royal houses, Styxx was kicking the crap out of them at home.
How was it even possible? It was as if he could read their minds. Every tactic they used, he headed off with a skill that went far beyond his age. Over and over, he used maneuvers the likes of which none of them had seen before. Somehow he’d shorn up every weakness of Greek warfare her people had always relied on to ensure victory.
The bastard was invincible.
And over the last few battles, as she’d watched him overcome incredible odds and emerge victorious when he should have been put in his grave, she’d had a realization about his true identity.
It was the only thing that made sense.
How ironic really. The very child Archon had torn their kingdom apart to find had come marching home with a Greek army in his wake.…
Styxx of Didymos was Apollymi’s hidden son. She’d stake her life on it.
Wheeling her horse about, Bethany flew away from the battle where Styxx was busy driving the Atlanteans back, and went into the realm that her great-grandfather had ruled until the other gods had joined forces to make it Apollymi’s prison.
At least until Apostolos was dead.
Dark and dismal, Kalosis was not anyone’s idea of a vacation destination. Unless they were truly into terrifying death motifs. Ironically, this was where Bethany had spent most of her childhood, and one of her favorite places.
Which said much about her personality.
Bethany ignored the Charonte demons who watched her suspiciously as she made her way to the dark palace in the center of the hell realm. Barely dressed, the Charonte were a dangerous demonic race whose skin was made up of swirling colors—usually only two, but occasionally more. They had wings that matched the color of their horns and their eyes were always creepy.
“Where is Apollymi?” she asked the blue male demon closest to her.
“In the back courtyard,” he said in their unique singsongy accent.
She headed down the dark, reflecting hallway with curtains that billowed from a sourceless wind.
Bethany pushed open the large glass doors that let out onto a courtyard with high black marble walls.
Apollymi sat in front of the fountain that ran backwards up the wall. Dressed in a flowing black gown, the goddess of destruction was as breathtaking as she was lethal. Her long, white hair was braided down her back and her swirling silver eyes saw much more than others.
Archon was right to fear her. She was without mercy or compassion.
“Why are you here?” Apollymi snarled.
“I have learned the most coveted secret of all time and wanted your help in dealing with it.”
Apollymi smirked. “What is this secret you’ve found?”
“Your son is leading an army into our capital.”
Apollymi’s smirk turned into an arched brow and an innocent expression. “My son?”
“Prince Styxx of Didymos. He’s Apostolos, isn’t he?”
Apollymi laughed out loud then turned back to her pond. “Nice try. Wrong, but I give you points for creativity.”
Bethany didn’t believe her for a second. “I know it’s him.”
“Then why haven’t you betrayed me to the others?”
“Because lately I’ve come to understand … your sacrifice.”
This time, Apollymi’s laughter was cruel. “Are you seriously telling me that the goddess of misery and wrath is in love? You really expect me to believe that of you?”
“Why not? If the goddess of utter destruction can love … why not me?”
“Oh, Bet … you are naive and foolish. And if you were truly in love, we would all know it.” Apollymi ran her hand through the black water. “My son will return home soon, but he won’t need a foreign army to destroy this pantheon. Now go and leave me before I remember how much I hate all of you.”
“Fine, I’ll go. But I wanted you to know that the gods have gathered together, and they will kill Styxx the moment he steps foot on the main shore. In unison.”
“Doesn’t concern me in the least.”
Bethany wasn’t so sure about that. While Apollymi seemed to be telling the truth, there had been a
slight flare in her eyes when Bethany had first mentioned Styxx’s name.
The prince did mean something to the goddess. But if he wasn’t her son, what was he to her?
August 11, 9530 BC
The Atlantean gods sat together in their white marble hall as they discussed the advancing Greek army that none of their people had been able to quell or turn back.
“How?” Archon growled at the gods standing in front of his dais. “We are better armed. Higher tech. Our soldiers have psychic abilities, and yet this puny, putrid human and his army are able to outmaneuver us and kick our collective asses. For the love of us, can someone tell me how?”
They exchanged nervous and disgusted looks.
“A god protects him,” Bethany said, pushing her way through the crowd until she stood in front of Archon. “I don’t know who, but it’s a powerful one. Whenever I try to shoot him, it’s deflected as if he can see it … which we all know is impossible.”
“Apollymi?” Archon asked, going straight to her initial assumption.
Dikastis, their god of justice, shook his head. “Can’t be. There’s no way her son would be in Atlantis, leading an army, without our knowing it. He is using powers, but they’re not ours. We would all feel it if it were.”
“Maybe he’s just that much better trained and more intelligent than our armies.”
They all turned to glare at the sea god, Ydor. Tall and dark-haired, he stood apart from the rest of the group.
“What?” he asked innocently. “Tell me none of the rest of you have had that thought. Have you seen this kid? He’s a beast on the battlefield. There’s a burning fury inside him he unleashes the minute he takes a sword into his hand. I’ve never seen a mortal so fearless. It’s as if he’s daring us to kill him and wants to die.… He’s definitely not a god with that mind set.”
Archon returned his attention to Bethany. “You said he was Athena’s champion?”
She nodded. “But it’s not Athena protecting him in battle. It’s an older god. Surely the rest of you have felt it, too.”
Misos agreed with her. “She’s right, brother. I tried to strike him down with my own hand, and he broke my axe.”
His face turning red, Archon roared furiously. “Then how do we stop this little bugger prince?”
“Apollo.” Moving forward to speak, Epithymia swept her gaze around the gathered gods. “As much as it galls me to say this, that Greek bastard is our only hope.”
Archon snorted in derision of her proposal. “He wants this throne.” He punctuated the word with a slap to the armrest. “Why would he stop his best commander to help us?”
“Because if the Greeks take Atlantis, he’d have to share our domain. He’d be as he is now … just another god in the Olympian pantheon, ruling here, under Zeus.” Epithymia addressed the entire group. “As you said, his ambitions are bigger than that. He wants to sit on your throne, and we all know it. He doesn’t want the Greek pantheon here any more than we do. He wants us to conquer them, which is why we’re winning in Greece.”
Sitting back on his throne, Archon stroked his beard while he considered her words. “It makes sense, and you’re right about his ambitions. But we can’t tell him the truth about why we need his help to deal with that … human. He’d mock us. So how do we sway him to our cause?”
Epithymia gave him a droll stare. “Use his lust against him. For a god of moderation, Apollo’s licentiousness is well known and documented. He will nail anything. Animal, vegetable, mineral.”
Archon nodded thoughtfully. “It’s said the princess of Didymos is the most beautiful of all the Greek women. We can use the prince’s sister against him. If we tie her to Apollo, King Xerxes will recall his son and his army for the ceremony.… Let them think Apollo is switching sides to be with the woman.”
Epithymia smiled. “We tell Apollo we intend to use the truce to solidify our position for a larger attack on Greece in the future. But that we need time for it.”
“He’s dumb enough to buy that,” Misos said with a laugh.
“Bet’anya?” Archon pinned her with a stare. “You negotiate with the Greek.”
Was he serious?
Gaping, she was incredulous. “Do I look like Hermes or”—she gestured to the beautiful god standing on Archon’s right—“Hephaestion? I’m not a messenger god.”
“No, but you are more powerful against Apollo than we are. You have two pantheons you can call on. And while he disregards us, he fears your father … and you.”
Oh, right, throw that in her face. Like she could help it? But she knew arguing was futile. Archon was a prick that way.
Bethany held her hands up in surrender. “Fine. What do you want me to say exactly?”
“That if he helps us with this, we will tear down the gods of Olympus, and leave the entirety of Greece to him and his Apollites.”
And that would definitely appeal to the god and his massive ego.
Bethany sighed. “All right. I’ll go meet with him. But for my service, there is one thing I want.”
Archon arched his brow. “And that is?”
Bethany hesitated. However, at this point, she no longer cared if they mocked her for her love. In spite of her best efforts, she’d been unable to locate the one person whose life mattered to her. And she was not about to do this and put him in danger. “A Greek soldier named Hector from Didymos. He is not to be harmed in the fighting by anyone, god or otherwise.”
He inclined his head to her. “Agreed. Now go and let’s get this Greek bastard off our backs and out of our lands.”
* * *
Bethany paced outside of Apollo’s Delphian temple. While she could appreciate the architecture and beauty of the island, she hated this place and the god who claimed it as home base.
“My father will be with you shortly.”
She paused to study Strykerius. Like Apollo, he was tall and golden with vivid blue eyes to rival Styxx’s. The two princes were probably about the same age, too. Though to be honest, Styxx seemed much older and more worldly. “You’re part Atlantean?” She could smell it on him. Unlike the Olympian god, Apollo’s son held a lot of their powers.
“From my mother, the queen.”
Bethany scowled as she remembered Archon and the others slaying the infant Strykerius claimed to be. “I thought her son died at birth?”
“Strykerius!” Apollo barked, making the boy jump in response. “Go inside and leave us.”
There was something extremely strange about all of this, but she didn’t have time to worry about it. She had an idiot god to win over.
“What can I do for you, little cousin?”
She cringed at Apollo’s play on the rumors that the Egyptian goddess Isis had birthed him. But Bethany wasn’t fooled. Her aunt had much better taste than to get knocked up by Zeus. There wasn’t enough nectar or wine in the universe for that union.
“I have been sent to negotiate terms.”
Apollo smirked. “Tired of having your asses handed to you by a Greek prince?”
She glared at him. “Fine. I don’t need this. I can go home to Egypt and live quite happily while you take second throne to Zeus as you always do.” She started to leave.
“Wait!”
Bethany turned back to face him. “Yes?”
“What exactly are you asking me?”
“They want you to tup a Greek princess as distraction for your people and pantheon while we fortify our army and position to renew this war at a later time. We take Greece and overthrow your lovely family, and then hand it over to you to enjoy.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because Atlanteans, unlike Greeks, have never craved war. We’d rather live in peace. If Greece has a single god, he—or in this case, you—will be too busy to turn your eyes to our shores. So Greeks can be owned by your Apollites, your son will have a throne, you will rule Olympus, and we can be left alone.”
“And which princess do you want me to tup?”
�
��The one at Didymos.”
A full-fledged smile spread across his face. “Didymos? Really? I’d much rather have their prince than their princess.”
Bethany shrugged nonchalantly. “You can have them both for all I care. But I wouldn’t use the prince to negotiate over. Even Greeks tend to frown at offering up their sons as whores to their male gods.”
Apollo laughed. “You are wise, Bet’anya. And you are right.… By the way, tell Archon thanks for this leverage. I appreciate it and will remember it.”
She inclined her head to him. “Have fun with your prince. Just get that bastard off our shores.”
“Don’t worry. I will gladly do both.”
August 15, 9530 BC
With Galen by his side, Styxx watched in grim determination as their men boarded the ships that would take them to the shores of the Atlantis mainland.
Within hours, they’d set sail. By nightfall, they’d make shore, and come the morrow, they’d own Atlantis and every Atlantean would bow down to his Stygian Omada.…
“Prince Styxx!”
He turned at the sharp cry as a messenger came into camp at a dead run. The boy reined his horse, and jumped from it. He rushed to Styxx and knelt down then extended a rolled scroll toward him.
This shit can’t be good.…
Not given the boy’s expression or his hurry. Dread riding him harder than the messenger had his horse, Styxx took the scroll and saw six royal seals on it from the largest city-states who were their allies. Those seals included his father’s. Never in the last twenty-one months had his father sent anything to him. And nothing this official.
Styxx could sense in his soul that his day was about to be ruined.
He tore the scroll open and read it. And with every word, his jaw dropped more. No … Not after they’d come so far and gotten so very close.
You stupid sons of whores.
“Did something happen, my lord?” Gaius asked.
Styxx snapped his jaw closed. “We’re being recalled to Greece.” He enunciated each word with great irritation.
“What?” Galen roared.
Styxx (DH #33) Page 35