Styxx (DH #33)

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

Ash frowned at that. “It wasn’t the gods who made the pact, though. It was the Greek kings. They offered Apollo my sister.”

  “Not exactly.”

  Ash hated whenever Savitar used those words. It was never good. “What do you mean?”

  “It wasn’t your sister Apollo really wanted. Styxx had the same unearthly beauty and sexual allure, courtesy of Epithymia, that you did, and Apollo was infatuated with Styxx from the moment he first saw him … like you and Artemis. The Atlantean gods had to get Styxx off their shores before he overthrew them. They told Apollo what to do to accomplish that. But they all knew the Didymos king would never agree to publicly give his heir up to be Apollo’s mister-ess. So Apollo used Ryssa as a ruse to get to and control Styxx.”

  Sadly, that explained a lot.

  And it made Ash’s stomach burn with guilt and pain. “Since you were the Atlantean Chthonian, do you know about the other time Styxx came to Atlantis?”

  Savitar gave him a blank, cold stare. “Your brother was in Atlantis four times in his lifetime.”

  Ash gaped. No, it wasn’t possible.… “Four?”

  Savitar nodded. “The first was as a boy to free you from your uncle. Estes caught him and took him into custody.”

  “And you didn’t stop it?”

  “I didn’t know about that one at the time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His gaze tormented, Savitar leaned forward and raked his hand through his damp hair. “Your mother had my powers shielded when you were young so that I couldn’t see you or your twin. I didn’t know he’d tried to free you until I yanked him out of his coma.”

  “What made you look then?”

  “I saw the word ‘whore’ in ancient Greek and the Atlantean ‘tsoulus’ along with your uncle’s slave mark branded into his groin. I foolishly wanted to know how he’d gotten it. Let that be a lesson about looking into an abyss.”

  Ash closed his eyes as pain slammed into him so hard, he could barely think straight. “Please … tell me you’re lying.”

  “You know better. That was why Styxx assaulted Atlantis like he had a grudge match. He did. Your uncle had kept him and sold him, just like he did you. He even pierced Styxx’s tongue … as did Apollo.”

  Ash’s breath left him in a bitter wave of sympathy. “Since you looked, how did my uncle capture him?”

  “Do not ask questions you do not want the answers to.”

  But Ash didn’t listen. “I want to know.” He needed to know.

  Savitar cut a harsh look toward him. “You should know already, Acheron. You were there when it happened.”

  “Bullshit!” Ash paused. “Show me.”

  Savitar shook his head. “There are some memories no one needs.”

  Still, Ash didn’t listen. “Artemis punished Styxx with my memories. She forced him to live my life and instead of it making him forgive me, it’s fueled his hatred of me and I want to know why. Please, Savitar. I need to see how he was taken.”

  “And I refuse to show you,” he said harshly … in a bitter tone he’d never used with Ash before. “Suffice it to say, he would have gotten away had you not dragged your feet, and called out to your uncle to tell him where you were. You could have voluntarily escaped with Styxx, but were too afraid to try. Worse, while Estes held him, you laughed and gloated over what they did to Styxx. Constantly. You threw it in his face the whole time he was in Atlantis with you and you helped to prep him to service the men your uncle sold him to. You even held him down while he was branded as a whore.”

  Ash panted as that reality slapped him. He choked on denial. “I didn’t do that.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Ash shook his head. “I’m not that kind of person, Savitar. I’m not.”

  “Every man, woman, and child is capable of extreme and utter prejudice and cruelty when they feel justified in their hatred. Right or wrong. We are all capable of lashing out when we’re in pain. No one, not even you or I, is immune from that. As Plato said, be kind to everyone you meet for we are all fighting difficult battles. And yes, you thought it was funny to have the beloved prince and heir branded a whore and a slave and sold to the same men who’d paid to fuck you. In your defense, you were young, drugged, and lost in your own hell.”

  “That’s no excuse.” Ash blinked back his tears.

  “No, it’s not an excuse. It’s just harsh, biting reality.” Savitar let out a bitter laugh. “Ever wonder why the gods created man, Grom? I personally think that we’re the original reality show. They were so effing bored that they created us just so that they could feel better about themselves.”

  “You’re not funny.”

  Savitar sighed.“No. Tragedy never is. Our lives are marked and shaped by our regrets. Things we all want to take back and can’t. In a perfect world, we would never hurt the ones we love or cause hurt to befall them. But the world isn’t perfect and neither are we.”

  Even so, Ash couldn’t forgive himself for the way he’d treated Styxx all these centuries ago. “I’m almost afraid to ask about Styxx’s second visit.”

  “You were there for that one, too.”

  “When they threw me out.” And after he’d purposefully baited and mocked Styxx.

  And his father.

  Savitar nodded. “By the way, do you know how Estes died?”

  “Stroke or heart attack in his sleep.”

  Slowly, Savitar shook his head again.

  An awful sense of dread went through Ash as reality hit him hard. Something he had never thought to contemplate before …

  His brother had been a soldier trained to kill. “Styxx?”

  “Yeah,” Savitar breathed. “Estes had been planning to sell your sister to an Atlantean prince. To protect her and you, after he’d been viciously gang-raped, Styxx pried loose his restraints to smother Estes in his sleep. And then, riddled with guilt, panic, and fear, he went with the father he hated to Atlantis to free you.”

  And I insulted him for it. “I didn’t know.”

  “Of course not. Had Styxx breathed a word of it to anyone, he’d have been executed. Brutally. But can you imagine being a boy and carrying that amount of fear and guilt with you?”

  No, he couldn’t. No wonder Styxx had been so sullen and quiet. Something they had all mocked him for.

  He’s too good to even talk to anyone. Look at him, walking around like he’s so important. Ryssa’s harsh observations and condemnation were very different from Ash’s new vantage point. With hindsight, he no longer saw his brother’s vanity and arrogance as much as he saw Styxx’s exhaustion, and wary sadness.

  And he did remember Bethany. Vaguely. But those memories stung hard as they reminded Ash of how much resentment he’d felt whenever he saw Styxx with her. Because Artemis had refused to publicly claim him, the fact that Bethany had smiled and embraced Styxx whenever she saw him had made Acheron hate them both all the more.

  “And the other two times?” Ash asked, trying to find some sense of peace with himself.

  “The next one wasn’t quite so bad. Styxx had his army with him then. But they’d been short on supplies and hammered every step of the way by the Atlanteans who wanted them dead and burned. Even so, he was victorious.”

  And he’d been viciously attacked on his way home by jealous Greeks.

  Savitar scratched at his cheek and pinned him with a cold stare. “It’s the last time he was there that was the bad one.”

  “Worse than Estes?” Ash asked in stunned disbelief.

  He nodded slowly. “You know about Apollo’s mark on his back?”

  “Yeah. I saw it before I came here.”

  “Your brother didn’t take to slavery well. He fought Apollo bitterly, to the point Apollo decided to violently break him. When he couldn’t do it by himself, he solicited others. Styxx spent a year in Atlantis as a prisoner of war. First the gods had their go at him, and then they turned him over to the Atlantean queen and her people in Aeryn.”

  Ash winced at that. “The
y tortured him.”

  “Oh, they did a lot more to him than that.”

  Ash cringed. Having been his brother’s scapegoat in a brothel, he could only imagine how much worse others had been when they actually had Styxx in their hands. One thing about the ancient world, their cruelty had been creative.

  And harsh.

  But for the life of him, Ash couldn’t remember a time when Styxx hadn’t been accounted for. “Other than war, when was he gone for a year?”

  “You already know the answer, Acheron. It was that last year when he kept acting so strange. When he actually mingled with people in public and partied. That wasn’t Styxx.”

  Of course not. Even Ryssa had commented on how war must have changed him because he was acting so out of character. “The year he was engaged to Nefertari.” The same year Acheron was gelded, tortured, and the conspiracy against his father had happened.

  Savitar nodded. “Apollo was behind it all. Like I said, he wanted Styxx broken. So he yanked Styxx out of the palace and left one of his minions there to keep anyone from knowing what he’d done.… His goal was to ruin Styxx’s life and reputation. To turn everyone against him.”

  And he had definitely succeeded.

  “When did Styxx return to Didymos?”

  “You know that, too.”

  Ash glanced away. When Styxx had been forced to kneel naked in front of Apollo in a temple filled with laughing citizens …

  You should have seen him, Acheron, Ryssa’s voice echoed in his head as she’d recounted it to him later. It serves him right after insulting Apollo with his hubris.

  Hubris … fighting Apollo’s ownership.

  And like the others, Acheron had been amused by Styxx’s public humiliation that had been similar to the one Acheron had been given, courtesy of Apollo and Artemis in her temple.

  No wonder Styxx hated them all.

  Savitar sighed again. “In case you haven’t had enough guilt ladled on you, let me mind-fuck you one more time.”

  Ash’s stomach shrank with dread. “What?”

  “You know how all Chthonians are mortal born? None are supposed to ever come from the gods?”

  “Yeah?” Ash was the only exception to that rule.

  “Styxx didn’t steal your birthright, Grom … you stole his. He was the one who was supposed to be born a Chthonian. But when you were put into the womb with him, you sucked up all of his main powers from him and left him with some pretty crappy byproducts.”

  The nosebleeds and headaches and ability to hear other people’s thoughts.

  And no means to protect himself from it.

  Shit.

  Ash was so nauseated over it all, he wasn’t sure how he kept from vomiting. “How do I make this right, Savitar?”

  “That, my brother, is the question. And if I knew the answer, I’d play the lottery.”

  August 8, 2012

  Styxx slowed his horse as he approached the modest-sized Bedouin camp where he came every year around this time to trade. Girls and women were tending goats and sheep, and cooking, along with other chores. They’d already donned their burquas since their scouts would have warned them of his approach long before he’d arrived. The men were tending horses and camels. Those men who could be easily seen, anyway. Styxx had noted the number of them who’d been hidden as guards and scouts on his way in. To most, they wouldn’t be seen, but very little escaped Styxx’s scrutiny.

  As soon as the camp members could ascertain his gargantuan size, they knew who he was. With the exception of the Atlanteans and gods, Styxx had always towered over others. But since the Bedouins tended to be shorter than average, he felt even more like a freakish giant whenever he was around them.

  Reaching the center of their camp, Styxx lowered the keffiyeh from his face and left it to trail down his shoulder then dismounted. He petted Skylos to calm him and nodded a welcome to several of the tribe members who greeted him.

  A young boy came forward to take the reins of his horse and camel. “Hi, Sadur,” Styxx said to the boy as he quietly handed him a Hershey’s chocolate bar.

  Sadur’s face lit up. “Thank you, my lord!”

  Styxx inclined his head to him. He’d bartered for the bar last week with a tour group that had passed by his own camp. While he would have enjoyed it, he knew the boy would love it more. Skylos ran after Sadur as he led Styxx’s horse and camel to water.

  Rahim, a cousin of Sheikh Saif, who ruled this tribe, came out of the largest tent with a smile on his face. Unlike Styxx’s plain black garments, Rahim’s held beautiful gold, red, and white embroidery to let others know which tribe, social class, and marital status he belonged to.

  Styxx placed his hand over his heart as a sign of respect and humility. “Salaam alaikum.” Peace be with you.

  Smiling, Rahim hugged him then held his hand out. “Prince Styxx, it is so good to see you again.”

  Styxx took his hand and had to bend over so that they could touch noses three times. Rahim held on to his hand after they shook as a sign of friendship and welcome.

  “I trust the Sahara has been good to you this year?” Rahim asked.

  “Very good, indeed. I see you took a wife. Congratulations.”

  “Ah yes, my Yesenia. I finally won her and she told me only yesterday that she will be gifting me with a firstborn this coming November.”

  Styxx smiled at the news. “Again, congratulations, my friend.”

  Rahim moved his right hand like a scratching claw, beckoning Styxx to enter his cousin’s tent. He took him into the mag’ad where the sheikh stood with important members of his tribe and family.

  Saif came forward immediately to embrace him. “Prince Styxx! Salaam alaikum!”

  While Styxx despised his title, social status was extremely important to the desert people, and it bought him a needed advantage when it came to trade and other necessities. It was the only thing his royal birth had ever been good for. “And with you, my friend.”

  Saif beckoned him to sit on one of the elaborate burgundy cushions on the Persian carpet–lined floor and to partake of the cardamom coffee and small feast that had been prepared when they’d been notified of a stranger’s approach.

  Placing his hand over his heart again, Styxx gave the sheikh a bow. “Thank you, Your Highness. I am honored.”

  With a bright smile, Rahim passed him a bowl of dates and fresh yogurt, which they knew were Styxx’s favorites.

  Saif took Styxx’s cup and tasted the coffee first as a way of letting Styxx know it was safe then set it down for him to use. “My daughter wanted you to know that she prepared that yogurt especially for you.”

  “Dima?”

  Saif nodded. “She is now old enough to marry and has a bit of a crush on you, I’m afraid. As it has been nearing the time of your bi-yearly visit, she has driven me mad, begging me to mention her to you while you’re here.”

  Styxx swallowed his coffee. “I am truly honored and humbled by her affection, Your Highness. And while she is a very beautiful woman, it wouldn’t be fair for her to share my heart with my first wife. Dima deserves a man who can love her with the whole of his being.”

  Saif smiled. “And that is why she regards you so highly. You are honest and forthright.”

  “I humbly try.”

  Rahim held a spit of lamb for Styxx so that he could cut some of the meat off to eat.

  Styxx thanked him.

  Saif sat back with his cup. There was a light in his dark eyes that didn’t bode well for Styxx. “You have come just in time, prince.”

  “How so?”

  “We have tourists who will soon invade our camp. If you will help us negotiate with them, I will be more than pleased to pay you for your services.”

  Styxx would rather be hit in the head with a sledgehammer, repeatedly. But he smiled, knowing he would do it anyway. Saif and his people had been very good to him over the last four years and he would do anything for them.

  “It would be my honor and privilege to aid yo
u and your people, Your Highness.”

  “Good. These tourists make my head crazy.”

  Styxx had just finished his third cup of coffee when he heard the gunshots that announced the arrival of the tourists who must be European or American for the sheikh to ask for his help.

  The expression on Saif’s face said he shared Styxx’s enthusiasm for their arrival. However they were a necessary evil for the tribe. Rich tourists could pay a small fortune for the handmade wares and items that Styxx bartered hides for. And the tour companies loved camps such as this where they could safely bring their groups and know that no harm would come to them.

  Saif quirked a wry grin at Styxx. “Today, you prove your friendship to my people, Your Highness.”

  Yes, he did.

  Dreading it already, Styxx followed Rahim outside to find two busloads of gawkers who were making photos of the Bedouin camp and spectacles of themselves. Too late, Styxx remembered his face was showing.

  Shit.

  And because of his massive height, he stood out from the rest of the tribe. Cameras and phones turned toward him like he was the reigning celebutante at the hottest Hollywood club.

  Covering his face, he slid his gaze to Rahim. “Tell your cousin, the price for my services just doubled.”

  Rahim laughed, knowing Styxx was joking.

  One of the women squealed as she showed a photo on her phone to another woman who was with her. “Oh my God!” she said in English. “This goes to Facebook as soon as I have reception. Do they sell their men like their women? How many camels would we have to buy for him?”

  “Forget buying, can we just rent him out for an hour?”

  Those were the least raunchy of their comments. And never mind the lechery going on inside their heads. It was enough to make him want to grab his rifle to hold the she-wolves off in case they attacked.

  Styxx paused beside them. “Ladies, I speak English. Fluently.”

  They couldn’t have turned any redder had they been walking naked in the Sahara for a month.

  Ignoring them, Styxx went over to the tents where the tribe had laid out the wares they had for sale. As he was helping Farid haggle over the price of a carpet with a rich banker, he felt a slight tugging on his sleeve.