He kissed her forehead. “You are not just my wife. You are what sustains me, and my only prayer is that I never bring even a shadow of hurt to your beautiful eyes or heart.”
Bethany frowned as he placed a ring on her finger. “What is this?”
When he spoke, his voice was thick with pain. “It’s the wedding ring Galen and I picked out for you right before he died.”
Tears flowed down her cheeks as she smiled proudly. “And it will never leave my finger.”
“And you will never leave my heart.”
She pulled him into her arms and held him close. “How do you expect me to go when you speak to me like this? When I know how much pain you’re in without me?”
He cupped her cheek. “Because you are taking the most important parts of me with you, Bethany.… My heart.” He kissed her lips. “And my soul.” He kissed her belly then he kissed away her tears. “Please, for my sanity. Every time in my life when things were going well, something horrific happened. I’ve already lost Galen. I cannot lose you and our son.”
“All right. I will go. But not happily.”
“And I will be counting down every beat of my heart until we’re together.”
Reluctantly, she left the bed and started dressing and packing.
His heart aching, Styxx helped her. In truth, he wanted to keep her by his side. But Thanatos was stalking him. He could feel the bastard’s breath on his neck, and he knew if she stayed, she’d be caught in whatever storm was coming.
Too soon and not soon enough, he had her surrounded by men and on her way to Egypt. “I will leave tomorrow. I promise.”
Bethany nodded. “I will be waiting for you. Do not tarry.”
Styxx kissed her lips then held her hand to his heart while he kept his other hand on the area of her stomach where his son kicked. He was terrified of letting her go. Terrified he’d never see her again. But worse was the fear of her staying behind and being harmed because of his selfishness.
Smiling sadly, she breathed an Egyptian blessing in his ear. “May Ra be between you and harm in all the empty places where you walk.”
He pressed her hand to his lips. “And I’d rather your grandfather walk with you and keep you safe every step of this journey.”
She leaned down from her chariot to kiss his cheek. “Tomorrow.”
“I will be hot on your heels. I swear.” Styxx nodded to the driver, but he held her hand until they rolled too fast for him to keep pace.
As he watched her leave, it felt as if his heart was being ripped out of his chest. But he knew she had to go. It was the only hope they had.
June 24, 9527 BC
Styxx paused in his packing to glance around the palace he’d assumed would one day be his. In just a few hours, he’d be long gone from here and would hopefully never see it again.
Let Acheron or Ryssa have it, or share it happily for the rest of their lives.
I should feel something other than relief.
But he didn’t. In truth, he couldn’t get away from here fast enough.
As he was taking his laurel crown down to his father’s office to leave it there, the front door opened and Acheron strode in with a confidence his brother had never before exhibited. Acheron normally skulked about like a beaten dog that didn’t want to be seen by anyone.
Styxx frowned at the change, wondering what had caused it. Was his brother drunk?
Boldly, Acheron approached him with his chest puffed out. It was the kind of posturing soldiers had sometimes used when they wanted to dare Styxx to fight them. But those who had held that kind of stupidity had been quickly schooled that Styxx didn’t play well with others, and most importantly …
He didn’t lose.
“Are you ill, brother?”
Acheron curled his lip. “Just sick of you, and the way you parade around like you own the world.”
Styxx sighed heavily. If I only lived the life other people think I do. “I don’t do that.”
“Yes. You do. I see it every time I look at you.”
His frown deepened as Styxx realized that he couldn’t hear Acheron’s thoughts anymore. How strange.
Not that it mattered. He had other things on his mind. Like getting the Hades out of here.
Styxx started for his father’s study, but Acheron grabbed his arm.
“You fear me, don’t you?”
Styxx bit back laughter at the ludicrous question. “No.”
Acheron grabbed him again.
“Are you herbal, little brother?”
Laughing, Acheron shoved Styxx against the wall in the same manner as Apollo often did. Then he leaned to whisper in Styxx’s ear. “I know you can’t die, brother. Not unless I do. That means I can hold you down and cut out your heart over and over again and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
There, Acheron was wrong. The one thing Atlantis had taught him was how to fight against gods. But he wasn’t in the mood to fight with his brother.
Not today.
“Is that really what you want to do?”
Acheron’s hand tightened around his throat. “You’re no better than me.”
No shit. He’d never thought otherwise. “And you’re no better than I am.”
The hatred in those silver eyes seared him. But that wasn’t what Styxx really saw. He saw the same bloodlust Acheron had held for him in Atlantis when his brother had helped Estes sell and torture him. Acheron had delighted in seeing him humiliated.
“You deserve it!”
His brother’s angry voice still rang in his ears as his vision darkened.
“I have reached my majority, Styxx. Do you know what that means?”
“You can own property? Join the senate?”
Acheron’s teeth elongated.
Styxx went cold as he finally understood all the bits and pieces of what had happened to him in Atlantis. Why he had held so much fascination for Archon who’d suspected this, but he’d held the wrong twin in custody.…
“You’re Apostolos.”
Shock stole the hatred from Acheron’s eyes. “How do you know that name?”
The two years he’d warred in Atlantis and the year he’d been with their gods passing him around had well schooled him on the knowledge of Apollymi’s hidden son.
The Atlantean gods would give him anything for this information.…
Anything.
Acheron’s hand all but crushed his windpipe. “You tell anyone and I will kill you!”
Styxx laughed at the threat. “I don’t want anything from you, brother. Except to be left the fuck alone.” He broke Acheron’s hold and ignored the pain it caused him. “I don’t care what powers you think you hold, I can still beat you down.”
“Acheron!” Ryssa gasped as she ran to his brother. “What are you doing?”
“We were talking. Right, Styxx?”
He rolled his eyes. “Sure.”
Ryssa glared at Styxx then gently pulled Acheron away from him. “You know what Father would do if he caught you with him.”
For the first time in his life, Styxx didn’t begrudge his brother Ryssa’s love. It made it easier for him to walk away from the entire family knowing Ryssa and Acheron had an unbreakable bond. “You two look after each other.”
Ryssa paused on the stairs to give him a suspicious glower. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Could her tone be any more accusatory? “Nothing, Ryssa. Absolutely nothing.”
Unwilling to deal with either of them, Styxx went to his father’s study and placed his crown in the chest where his father kept his own. Intricately carved with images of the Fates, the gold chest was ancient in age. When he’d been a boy, he’d sometimes sneak into it to look at his father’s ornate crown and imagine if he’d look so dignified wearing it as a man.
How long ago that seemed, and at the same time, it was yesterday. But sadly, neither crown would be a part of his future. And for that, he hated his brother and the Atlantean gods all the more.
&n
bsp; To protect Acheron, Apollymi had thoroughly screwed up Styxx’s life.
Damn them all!
But then the gods who’d been searching for Apostolos had been looking for a single child. Not twins. How ironic that Acheron had spent much of his life right under their noses while they tore the world apart trying to find him.
“I smell divinity on you, Greek. Whose byblow are you?” Archon’s angry words as the god had tried to beat information out of him that Styxx hadn’t been given still caused a shiver to run down his spine.
I should have recognized their voices when I met them. But then he’d heard so many different ones over the years that it was hard to break them apart and identify them when he didn’t have a personal relationship with the thinker. Like the Atlantean gods, Styxx had assumed himself born of an Olympian. Why else would Athena and Apollo have taken an interest in him? He’d attributed it to nepotism.
Now, he suspected they had sensed whatever had attracted Archon and Asteros to him. Whatever Apollymi had done to protect her son must have lured them to him, too.
However, none of that mattered now. He had an Egyptian demigoddess to worry over and meet up with.
Closing the lid, he practically ran up to his room to collect his things and go. It’d already taken him longer to pack than he’d meant for it to.
It wouldn’t be that long until nightfall. But he’d travel through it. They’d done many marches at night so as to hide their numbers and protect their troops. Plus it saved water not to travel during the heat of the day. The soldiers and horses had a lot less exhaustion.
Styxx turned to leave then froze as Apollo appeared in his room. He cursed under his breath at the god’s inconvenient timing. “What?”
Apollo let out a bitter laugh. “Tone, prince. You still haven’t learned the proper tone.”
Grinding his teeth, Styxx really wanted to punch the bastard. “Aren’t you bored with me yet?”
Apollo gave him a lopsided grin. “If you were your mewling, obsequious sister, yes. I’d be bored with you. But it’s the fact that you continue to fight me even after all I’ve done to punish you for it that fascinates me. Most humans learn their lessons.… You don’t. Why is that?”
Styxx reached for his saddlebags. “I’m dumber than most.”
Moving faster than Styxx was prepared for, Apollo grabbed him and turned him around so that Styxx could see himself in the mirror with Apollo standing behind him. The Olympian didn’t touch Styxx. Rather he locked gazes in the mirror. “If only you were, I could forgive you. But it’s knowing how intelligent you are that fascinates me.” Apollo touched his cheek.
Styxx jerked away, but Apollo refused to let him leave their reflection. He yanked Styxx back to the mirror.
“See what I mean? Why do you continue to fight me?”
“I have no stomach for men in general and you in particular. Your touch reviles me.” How many times did he have to say it before Apollo got the message?
Apollo jerked Styxx against him. “And yet you’re so beautiful … even scarred as you are, I crave you.”
Styxx cringed. “You gave your word to all that I was free.”
“And I’ve never regretted anything more. Yield to me once … just once.… Come to me as you would your betrothed, and bend to my will, and then I will leave you in peace. Forever.”
Sure he would.
“I don’t believe you.”
Apollo tried to grab him, but Styxx caught his hand and jerked it away. It didn’t deter the Olympian at all. He wrapped his arms around him and tried to kiss him. “I can’t get you out of my mind. How many more people do I have to take from you before you bend to me?”
Styxx fought hard for his freedom. “You killed Galen?”
“Not personally, but yes. And I’ll kill the rest if you don’t give me what I want.”
Styxx cried out as Apollo sank his fangs deep into his neck to feed.
The door to his room opened.
A sharp, feminine gasp froze him instantly. Eyes wide, Ryssa stared at them with horror etched into her fragile features. Styxx could only imagine the sight they made with Apollo’s hand still pressed against his slave’s brand on his groin and the god feeding from this neck.
Completely unperturbed, Apollo laughed and lifted his head then kissed Styxx’s cheek while he cupped him in plain sight of his sister. “Would you care to join us, Ryssa?”
That set her off into one of her legendary shrieking fits as she began grabbing things in the room and hurling them at him and Apollo. Ducking the first clay vase, Styxx broke away from Apollo and glared at him.
Apollo sneered at Ryssa. “I am not putting up with this. I’ll be back when you calm down.” He flashed out of the room, leaving Styxx alone with the termagant.
She continued to scream out in a tone that rendered her words unintelligible as she sought to strip his room bare of projectiles.
“What in the name of Zeus is going on in here?” his father roared as he snatched the clay wine jug from her hand before it became another pile of broken fragments on the floor.
Sobbing in hysteria and ignoring the question, Ryssa kept her fury concentrated solely on Styxx. “How dare you! You disgust me! I wish you were dead!” She whirled about and stormed from the room.
His father returned the jug to the table as Styxx pushed himself up from the floor. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing, Father. I didn’t do anything to her at all.”
His father moved to go after her. But Ryssa met him at the door. Without a word to their father, she crossed the room with a tranquility that concerned him. Expecting her slap, Styxx caught her left hand as she tried to deliver it. But the moment he did, he felt something sink painfully into his abdomen.
Stunned, he stumbled back to see the large bloody knife she’d hidden in the folds of her gown.
She lunged to stab him again.
Styxx grabbed her wrist and held it tight as his father finally realized what was going on.
Instead of calling for the guards, his father pulled Ryssa back and took the knife out of her hand. “What have you done, daughter?”
Styxx’s knees buckled as the room spun around. While it never felt good to be stabbed, gut wounds had to be the worst. Breathing raggedly, he lay down and tried to focus.
“He’s sleeping with Apollo! Selfish bastard! He’s taken everything from me! Everything!”
Flat on his back, Styxx felt a tear slide from the corner of his eye as pain racked him while his father comforted Ryssa on the other side of the room. In spite of the agony, he laughed in bitter amusement.
Every member of his family, except his father and Bethany, had stabbed him.
But I’m young still. There’s plenty of time for that to change.
Blood rushed between his fingers as he applied as much pressure as he could to the wound. Yet it was hard. His hands were shaking and he felt like he was about to vomit.
Still his father ignored him while the king dealt with Ryssa’s hysterics.
“Father?” he breathed.
“Oh dear gods … Guards!” His father finally left Ryssa to check on him. “Fetch the physician!” Swallowing hard, his father started to touch Styxx’s blood-covered hands then refrained. “Does it hurt much?”
No, it feels fucking wonderful. I live for my family to stab me.
Was the man insane? Of course it hurt. His sister had just tried to gut him.
“However much it hurts, it doesn’t hurt enough for what he’s done. He’s humiliated me for the last time! I wish you could die like a normal person, you bastard! You’ve been nothing but misery to everyone since the day you were born. If you died tomorrow no one would miss you except that Egyptian whore you found. And even she wouldn’t care for long. You’re nothing!” She ran for him.
His father stood up to catch her before she reached Styxx again. As his father pulled her back, she spat in Styxx’s face.
He wiped it away with the back of his scarred, b
loodied hand.
Why didn’t I leave here sooner?
He shouldn’t have wasted five seconds of time on his brother. The gods knew Acheron wouldn’t waste it on him. I should have left that damned crown in my room and been on my way to Egypt.
Maybe he could still ride later tonight. He just needed someone to stitch the wound. As Ryssa had pointed out, it wasn’t like he could physically die from it. Though to be honest, he died a little inside every time they attacked him.
The physician gasped as he saw him on the floor. “Highness?”
Styxx opened his eyes. He moved his hands aside for the man to examine the gaping hole. The physician pulled Styxx’s chiton up so that he could tend it.
The physician sucked his breath in sharply at the amount of damage. Mostly because on anyone else, the wound would be fatal. Blood loss wasn’t the problem. But Styxx had seen enough injuries like this in battle to know the inevitable outcome. Within a few days, the soldier always died in extreme and utter agony. Because of that, the soldiers with these wounds were often killed just to put them out of their misery. It was something that still haunted him. But during war they couldn’t afford to waste their limited supplies on someone who wouldn’t live anyway, and it was cruel to let them die slowly in agony when there was no help or hope for them.
His father finally returned. The horror in his eyes confirmed Styxx’s dire prediction.
“It’s bad, Majesty,” the physician said as he worked to stop the blood flow. “Most don’t survive a wound like this.”
His father sank to his knees by his side. Tears welled in his eyes. “Styxx?”
He bit back a groan. “I’ll live, Father. I’ve had worse in battle.”
Styxx (DH #33) Page 62