Styxx Read online

Chapter Three

 

  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 patted 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.

  Will you keep it for me, Styxx? I would weep if it were lost.

  Pulling it toward him, he cradled it to his chest. "I won't let it be harmed, Acheron. It will be here for your return. I promise. "

  No matter where they lived or how far apart, they were still brothers.

  Forever and always.

  June 18, 9537 BC

  Four years later

  Sighing heavily, Styxx picked through the merchant's wares, trying to find something his sister might like for her birthday gift. Unfortunately, Ryssa had everything imaginable.

  He hesitated at a necklace.

  "You don't have enough money for that, Highness. "

  Styxx cringed at the resonance of his valet's snide tone that gloated at being able to say that to him. Loudly. There were several snickers from nearby patrons over the comment.

  Growling low, he moved away from the necklace. He hated being embarrassed. He suffered enough of that from his sister, mother, father, tutors, and trainers. The last thing he wanted was for another servant to publicly mock him, too.

  Even though Styxx had asked his father for a loan, his father had adamantly refused. If you want more money, work harder for it. Something difficult to do given the magnitude of the study load he carried, the court sessions he had to attend, his war training, strategy sessions, and temple obligations.

  And the small fact that he already worked an average of twenty-two hours a week . . .

  They just rarely paid him for it.

  "They have cheaper items over here that I'm sure you can afford, Your Highness. " Styxx cringed even more at his valet's snottiness.

  Unwilling to be embarrassed further, Styxx left without a word.

  His valet followed with the same smug stare. "Highness? You're-"

  "You're dismissed," Styxx snapped at his valet as soon as they were outside the shop. "Return to the palace immediately, servant. I've had quite enough of you for one day. "

  "Styxx!" Ryssa barked as she happened by at just that precise moment.

  Why, gods . . . why?

  Styxx ignored her as he refused to give in on this. It was bad enough others berated and embarrassed him all the time. He wasn't about to tolerate it in public for others to laugh at him, too. "I have my guard. You are to leave. Now!"

  The valet glared at him, but he had no choice except to obey.

  Ryssa grabbed Styxx's arm, sinking her nails into his flesh until he was certain he'd have half-moon cuts from it. "That was rude!"

  And grabbing his arm in front of everyone wasn't? "Let me go," he growled.

  She tightened her hold. "Father will have a fit if he sees you here without your valet. "

  "I have my guards. "

  She shoved him back. "Fine. I hope he catches you, you little beast. You deserve it. " Without a word, she spun toward her guard and escort and left him.

  Styxx rubbed at the small cuts she'd left behind on his flesh. He definitely didn't feel like getting her a present now. But if he didn't, his father would be furious.

  It was expected, after all.

  I better be quick. Ryssa would run to tell on him. He had no doubt. She always did. His heart pounding in fear of being caught in public without his manservant, he went into the next store, where he often bought gifts for his father.

  He was rather surprised to find Master Praxis inside. But since this was usually Styxx's allotted study time with him, it made sense that Master Praxis would also be running errands.

  His tutor inclined his head to him. "Prince Styxx . . . How has your pursuit of a gift gone?"

  "Futile so far, sir. But I'm hoping to find something here. "

  "Perhaps I could be of service?"

  Styxx smiled at him. "I hope so, Master Praxis. Otherwise I won't have time before her banquet. "

  His tutor returned his smile. "Then let us count this as a lesson in economics. "

  Styxx was more than grateful for the help.

  The owner came out from the back with a ring for Master Praxis. "Greetings, young prince. "

  "Greetings, Master Claudius. " Styxx wandered about to look at the necklaces while his tutor finished his purchase.

  "I take it you're not shopping for His Majesty," the owner asked as soon as he came over to assist Styxx.

  "No, sir. My sister. "

  "Ah . . . Her Highness was in here earlier. " He pulled out a pair of pearl hair combs. Intricately engraved, they were very pretty. "One of a kind. She was quite taken with them, but said she'd have to ask your father for the price. "

  Styxx bit his lip. "How much?"

  "For you, Highness, a tetradrachm. "

  "That's a bit steep, is it not?" Master Praxis asked the owner.

  "These are the finest quality pearls available, as is the silver and gold. And the workmanship is in a class of its own. "

  Styxx sighed as his face warmed from even more embarrassment. "I'm afraid I don't have that much. "

  "How much do you have to spend?" the owner asked.

  "Half of that. " He'd brought all his savings, including the money he'd set aside for a set of dice he'd wanted to buy himself for his birthday next week.

  "Would you be interested in a trade?"

  Styxx hesitated then nodded.

  "What you have, plus . . . your fibula. "

  His heart clenched at the price. The king had given the brooch to him last year and it was one of his most prized possessions. He bit his lip in indecision.

  Master Praxis frowned. "That's a dear cost, Highness. Perhaps she'd like a bracelet?"

  She had drawers full of those. . . .

  "Did she really like it?" he asked the owner.

  "She did, indeed. "

  Styxx glanced around, but didn't see anything else as pretty . . . and if he didn't make her happy, his father would be furious. A king must sacrifice for the good of his people. It would always be expected of him.

  He looked up at Master Praxis. "The good of the many is always better than the good of the few. " Still, he really loved his fibula.

  His sister not so much.

  Styxx fingered the brooch that was his sole piece of grown-up adornment.

  We must spoil our women, boy. A happy woman makes a happy home. An unhappy one makes us drink.

  His stomach aching for the loss, Styxx nodded and unpinned his brooch. He handed it and his coins over to the jeweler, who had his apprentice box the gift.

  "She will be thrilled, Highness," Claudius said.

  Master Praxis appeared as thrilled about the purchase as Styxx did.

  "Thank you. " Styxx took the hair combs and left.

  Master Praxis followed him outside. "Would you like me to walk home with you, Highness?"

  "Yes, please. Thank you, Master Praxis. "

  And while they walked, his tutor went over the philosophy lesson that had been suspended for the day so that Styxx could attend his other duties.

  By the time they reached the palace, his father was waiting for him in the foyer with a glower on his face that wrenched Styxx's stomach hard. "Where is your valet?"

  "I sent him back early. "

  "And look at you. Out in public . . . an embarrassment to me. " His father snatched Styxx's chlamys where Styxx was holding it in place with his hand. "Where's your fibula I gave you?"

  Styxx exchanged a glance with Master Praxis and begged him with his eyes not to tell his father what he'd done. To know Styxx had bartered with a merchant like some penniless fishmonger would only anger his father more. "It's lost, Father. "

  "Lost!" His father cursed. "Get upstairs and put yourself in order. "

  Styxx headed up the steps to find Ryssa smirking in the hallway. He wanted to throw the gift at her.

  But the cost for it was too dear.

  Styxx ignored her and went to his room where the valet was waiting to snatch him around and "accidentally" pinch and bruise him while he righted Styxx's attire.

  Tsking over the missing brooch, his valet dug the old tin childhood fibula out of Styxx's wooden chest. The valet had just returned the chlamys to its proper drape when his father joined them.

  "Leave us. "

  Styxx held his breath in fear of his father's sharp tone.

  "Since you've proven yourself so irresponsible, I'm sending your birthday gift back to the merchant. There's no need in giving you anything until you learn to appreciate the cost of things. "

  Styxx opened his mouth to protest then caught himself. His father wouldn't listen. "Yes, Father. "

  "Master Praxis is in your study. I suggest you don't keep him waiting. "

  Taking care not to run because only peasants did so, Styxx went to his room down the hall where his tutor sat with a stern glower.

  "Why didn't you tell your father what happened to your fibula, prince?"

  Because a lost brooch would cost Styxx a birthday present. A bartered one would mean a harsh beating. "Only peasants barter. He would have been furious had he learned that I went shopping without sufficient coin. "

  "That was hardly insufficient, Highness. The cost was extravagant and I'm baffled why you didn't get her something else. "

  Styxx let out a weary breath of frustration as he explained his dilemma to his tutor. "Had my father gone in to buy them-which he would have, given Ryssa's propensity for extreme nagging-and been told that I passed on them for something less expensive even though Ryssa had clearly and dearly wanted them-which Claudius would tell him he told me-I would have been in a lot more trouble. While my father expects and accepts that Ryssa will have to ask about purchasing jewelry, it's not acceptable for me to do so. A prince must always be seen as affluent and respectable. This," he pointed to his cheap fibula, "was the lesser evil. "

  His brow furrowed, Master Praxis sighed. "Our lesson today was about Scylla and Charybdis, but I think we shall move on. You are already well versed in being caught between a rock and a hard place, Highness, and having to successfully navigate the treacherous waters that divide them. "

  June 21, 9537 BC

  Styxx sat in the study with his father and Master Praxis, reviewing his weekly progress, when Ryssa came storming into the room. At first, he feared she was angry. But as she came closer, he saw the bright smile on her face.

  "Father! Look what a messenger just brought!" she gushed as she opened her hands to show him the combs Styxx had purchased. "Acheron sent them to me! Is he not the best brother ever?"

  Master Praxis gaped as he met Styxx's gaze.

  Subversively, Styxx touched his finger to his lips to implore his tutor not to out him. "They're beautiful, Ryssa. "

  Scoffing at him, she put them in her hair and turned back to their father. "I shall wear them tonight at banquet! And at every banquet from now on. How did he know I wanted them? Are they not gorgeous, Father? I can't wait for Matisera to see them!" She rushed out of the room to show their mother.

  His father glowered at Styxx. "What did you get your sister?"

  "I didn't have time, Father. I'm sorry. "

  The look on his father's face promised him the retribution of the Furies. "Then I suggest you find something. Fast! And we will talk about this later. "

  Euphemism for a beating to come. "Yes, Father. "

  "Go. Get out of my sight. "

  Styxx gathered his scrolls as Master Praxis escorted him from the room.

  "I am extremely nonplused, Highness. "

  Styxx jerked his chin to where Ryssa stood showing off the combs to one of her maids. "Had I given them to her, she wouldn't be so excited, I promise you. She would have placed them in a box and never worn them again. They mean much more to her coming from my brother. "

  "But you paid dearly for them, and not just in coin. . . . " His tutor's gaze dropped to Styxx's side where his chlamys had fallen away and exposed his bruised skin.

  Styxx jerked it back into place before anyone else saw it. "Gifts are for the delight of the recipient, not the giver, Master Praxis. And if I have to pay such a dear cost, I'd rather see her enjoy her combs than not. "

  "You're a good boy, Highness. And I hope her gift to you is half so noble. "

  Styxx bit back a derisive snort. Ryssa had already given him his present . . . a scalding lecture on why he wasn't worthy of one this year.

  But that was fine by him. Unlike his sister, he placed no value on objects that, sooner or later, would be taken away or destroyed as punishment.

  August 30, 9536 BC

  One year later

  "Get up, you worthless suagroi!"

  Styxx saw red at the insult that accused him of molesting pigs. Pushing himself up from the ground where he'd been violently thrown, he glared at Galen, his hoplomachos-fighting instructor. He lifted his blank, bowl-shaped shield and wooden sword, and readied himself for their next round of Stomp the Prince into Oblivion. "Suagroi? Sorry, Master Galen, but your wife's far too old for me. "

  That got the desired reaction. Galen went crazy on him as he attacked.

  Fast and furious, raining down lethal blow after lethal blow, Galen rendered Styxx's xiphos blocks useless as the older man shattered the inch thick wood backing and bent the metal part of Styxx's hoplon around his arm with strikes that would fell a thick tree. Something that said it all about Galen's legendary strength. It was all Styxx could do not to die. He finally gave up and dropped his xiphos, which wasn't helping him hold his ground even a little then used both of his arms to angle the shield to keep from being murdered by the ancient soldier who was more than a foot taller and six times his weight. For that matter, one of Galen's beefy arms was the same diameter as Styxx's waist.

  So much for his hoplon being more of a weapon than a source of protection. . . .

  His weakened left arm that was still healing from when Galen had broken it during practice several months back ached and threatened to give way under the vicious assault.

  Bellowing in rage, Galen kicked him so fiercely it lifted him from his feet and slammed him to the ground, flat on his back. Styxx hit the dirt so hard, his breath left his lungs with such force that it felt as if both lungs had collapsed.

  Stunned from the pain, Styxx stared up at his trainer through the cheek guards of his bronze helm. Galen painfully wrenched the hoplon from his arm and threw it aside then started kicking him mercilessly in the ribs with all his stout strength.

  His arms were so numb and battered from the earlier blows, Styxx couldn't even begin to protect himself from the kicks.

  "Is that your answer, boy, when you're attacked? Drop your xiphos and then cower behind your hoplon like a cornered mouse? What do you think an enemy would do to you in battle?"

  If I'm lucky, kill me.

  "Tell me, where's your smart mouth now?"

  It wasn't his mouth that was damaged. Rather he had yet to draw enough air into his lungs to speak.

  "Enough!"

  Galen delivered one last stomp to Styxx's groin before he heeded the king's shout.

  Cupping himself, Styxx saw stars as bile rose in his throat. Damn, that hurt. The old man kicked like a stampeding rhinoceros.

  His hoplomachos bowed low to his father while Styxx writhed in absolute misery. "Majesty. To what do I owe this honor?"

  "I wanted to check my son's progress, such as it isn't. . . . Now leave us. "

  With a vicious glare at Styxx that promised him retribution for making him look incompetent before the king, Galen inclined his head then made a hasty retreat.

  Still coughing and wheezing, Styxx rolled over and forced himself to his feet. He let go of his groin and straightened even though all he wanted to do was lie down until he could breathe again.

  His father's revulsion and disdain hit him even harder than Galen's last kick. Styxx spat the blood from his loosened teeth to the ground.

  "What was that I just saw?" his father growled.

  Me getting my ass kicked by your retired polemarchos. Was the man blind? There was a reason why Galen had once led the entire Didymosian army. Stronger than Atlas, the old buzzard had never been defeated by anyone.

  And definitely not by a skinny boy.

  His father struck his cuirass so hard, it forced Styxx to take a step back. "You threw down your xiphos?"

  "I was trying to protect myself," Styxx explained.

  His father jerked the helm from Styxx's head and threw it on the ground in disgust. He hit him in the chest again. "You're not worthy of armor this fine. You disgrace it. " His blue eyes blazed with fury an instant before he backhanded Styxx so hard his head snapped back. "Coward!"

  Facing him without fear, Styxx licked at the blood on his lips then wiped it away with the back of his hand. "I'm just a boy, Father. Not a grown soldier. "

  Only ten-and-two . . . Galen wore sandals that were older.

  His father grabbed his hair and jerked him forward. "You have shamed me with your effeminate fear," he shouted in Styxx's ear. "I thought I was raising a king and not a queen. I should make you fight in one of your sister's peploses and earbobs. " He shoved him away, toward the direction of the dressing rooms. "Change your clothes, go to your mother and placate her then you are to be whipped for your cowardice and insolence. Understood?"

  Styxx gave him the most sarcastic salute he could manage. "Understood . . . my king. "

  Pain in my ass.

  The repugnant expression on his father's face promised severe retaliation later. So be it. . . . He'd failed to meet the king's high expectations.

  There's a fucking surprise.

  Disgusted with himself and his father, Styxx retrieved his helm and hoplon. When he went to pick up his sword, his father kicked him to the ground.

  "You haven't earned the right to touch a Didymosian xiphos, even a training one, and I won't have your weak, effeminate hand defile it. " The king retrieved it, and left. He handed the sword off to Galen on his way out of the arena.

  Sighing, Styxx rose to his feet and again picked up his damaged hoplon and helm then limped off to change clothes.

  Galen met him just outside the dressing room.

  Without a word, Styxx handed the veteran soldier his extremely bent blank shield. A hoplon that would remain unpainted until Styxx proved himself worthy of a battle symbol.

  At the rate he was going, that would be never.

  Sick at the thought of what was waiting for him, Styxx placed his helm on the straw armor mannequin then moved to undress. He wiped another round of blood off his mouth with the back of his hand, before he licked the wound his father had given him.

  Galen paused a few feet away. "What did the king say to you?"

  "I'm to be whipped for my cowardice. "

  To his shock, Galen winced. "I should not have lost my temper with you, Highness. "

  Styxx snorted. "My enemies won't hold back. Why should you?"

  Shaking his head, Galen's gaze fell to Styxx's arm as Styxx removed his bronze vambraces. "Sweet Hera!"

  Styxx looked down to see that his left arm was terribly swollen. It was now even larger than Galen's massive forearms. The laces from the vambrace had left impressions so deep, bruises had already formed around them.

  "Did you re-break it?"

  Styxx clenched and unclenched his fist then rotated his wrist and bent his elbow. It hurt, but he had total mobility. "Nay. It's fine. Just swollen from the fight. "

  "It must pain you and yet you act as if it doesn't. How can you stand it?"

  "What can I say, Master Galen? The agony of my crushed testicles distracts my attention. "

  To his shock, Galen laughed for the first time since Styxx had met him. "Come, young prince. Let me help you out of your armor. "

  Styxx frowned as his trepidation rose. He wasn't used to people being nice where he was concerned. It actually scared him. "Why are you being kind to me?"

  "Guilt, Highness. It's a potent thing. "

  "Why should you have guilt?"

  "I have misjudged you, and I don't do that often. "

  Styxx was even more confused than before.

  Galen placed his hand on Styxx's shoulder in the manner of respect and solidarity. Only Acheron had ever touched him thus. "If you were the brat I had thought you to be, my lord, you'd be whining about how unfair it is that you're to be punished later for my unwarranted attack. But it occurs to me in the last two years that I've been training you, you have never once complained nor cried foul about anything I have done to you during practice. Not even when I broke your arm. "

  "That was my fault. You told me not to hold my shield that way and I forgot. " Styxx glanced down at his arm, which was four times its usual size. "It's a lesson I shan't forget ever again. "

  Galen's gray eyes softened. "As I said, Highness, if you were the royal brat, you wouldn't think that. You'd still be blaming me for it and calling for my testicles on your gilded platter. " Galen unlaced Styxx's cuirass and lifted it over his head then placed it on the mannequin for him.

  Unsure of what to say to that, Styxx untied his pteruges and handed it to Galen.

  His teacher grimaced at the swelling which was even more severe, and the bruising that was more prominent than before. "We should bind your arm. "

  Shaking his head, Styxx moved to unlace his greaves. "It would anger my father. "

  "How so?" Galen pulled Styxx's white linen chiton and purple wool chlamys from where Styxx had stored them then placed them on the bench beside his foot.

  "He already considers me weak. If we bind it, he'll think I'm doing it to postpone or lessen the severity of my punishment. Trust me, that won't go well for me. " Styxx set his greaves and shoes on their shelf then removed his red practice chiton. He folded it and placed it next to them.

  Turning, he caught the fierce scowl on Galen's face as he stared at Styxx's bare side.

  He glanced down to see the red and purple bruises along his ribs and over his chest that were already forming where the older man had kicked him after he'd fallen. And that wasn't counting his other, faded bruises from things he would rather forget.

  Galen lifted his gaze to Styxx's. "Did I ever tell you about the first time I fought in battle, Highness?"

  Styxx quickly washed himself off in the large basin of water. "No, sir. "

  Galen took a deep breath as Styxx toweled himself dry then pulled on his chiton and fastened a belt around it. "I was so scared that I soiled my armor. It slickened the stones so that when my commanding officer went to attack the enemy, he slipped and fell on it. "

  Aghast, Styxx stared at him. He wanted to laugh, but didn't dare.

  "He was so angry that after battle, he had me given twenty lashes for it. "

  Styxx wasn't sure how to react to that. He was both amused and horrified. And the last thing he wanted to do was offend the man who routinely beat the crap out of him.

  Galen handed Styxx his royal chlamys. "What I'm trying to tell you, Highness, is that all men, no matter how well trained or brave, have moments of profound fear. No man should ever be judged for the one and only time he throws his sword down to protect himself when he's facing a much larger and more ferocious opponent. Rather he should be seen for all the times he doesn't. "

  He inclined his head respectfully to Styxx. "Even though I have retired and swore I'd never war again, I would be honored to ride by your side into battle, young prince, and to fight beneath your banner. Even if we had to fight this day. " His gray gaze intensified. "I no longer see the boy you are, but rather the man you will one day be. . . . And that man will be fierce indeed. "

  That was the kindest thing anyone had ever said to him. "Thank you, Master Galen. "

  Striking his fist to his shoulder, Galen saluted him. "Take heart, good prince. One day the king will see in you what I do. "

  He appreciated the words, but he knew better. His father would never see him as anything other than a horrendous mistake. "Again, thank you. "

  Galen offered him a tight-lipped smile. "Rest well tonight, Highness. Tomorrow I shall not take mercy on you. "

  "I look forward to it," he said sarcastically.

  Galen's laughter followed him out of the building.

  Sighing in sudden dread of his duties to come, Styxx headed up the hill to the palace with his guards trailing in his wake. Since they were such a permanent fixture of his life, most of the time he didn't even notice them.

  Not until their thoughts overrode his, anyway. Gods, how he hated the voices that gave him no quarter.

  Without stopping, he entered the palace and went to his room to retrieve his mother's birthday gift from his chest by the window. He paused as he accidentally uncovered Acheron's wooden horse. Pain hit him hard as unshed tears choked him.

  How he missed his brother. There wasn't an hour in the day that he didn't wonder what was happening to Acheron. If he was well and happy.

  Trying his best not to think about something he couldn't change, he wrapped the horse back in its cloth and retrieved the gold bracelet he'd bought for his mother. It'd taken him three months to save up the money for it.

  Because his father wanted him to appreciate what it took for their citizens to make a living, Styxx wasn't given a stipend like other noblemen. Rather, he was required to donate labor to the temple priests and record keepers. And, if he really made his father angry, the stable master who hated him passionately. His father paid him an hourly wage for his work, provided the ones he worked for spoke highly of his labor. That was fine by him, except for when they lied to his father out of petty spite. Since they didn't know how his father was with him in private, they thought it funny to belittle his efforts with offhand comments such as, He is a pampered prince after all, Majesty. What can you really expect from one such as he? They had no idea that his father took any report of his "laziness" as a personal criticism and embarrassment. Nor did they know that Styxx, unlike Ryssa, who was given everything she desired, received no other coin from his father. So for every ten hours he worked, he was lucky to be paid for two.

  Yes, his father clothed and fed him as befitted his station, but all the charitable funds a prince was expected to give, as well as all gifts for his family and servants, came out of what Styxx earned. Gifts that had to be on par with what a king would give or his father would also view that failure as a personal insult.

  We are known by the gifts we give. . . .

  Styxx snorted as he thought of the presents his father had "bestowed" on him, such as the "honor" of attending boring senate meetings and court sessions.

  Then I guess you're a cheap fucking bastard, Father.

  But Styxx was never allowed to be so "thoughtful. " Irritated, he touched the bracelet that had the face of Artemis, his mother's patron goddess from her homeland, stamped in the center. It was dainty and intricately cast. He'd never seen anything prettier.

  Maybe this time she would smile at him.

  Just don't throw it in my face like you did last year and have lashes added to what's already coming to me.

  And after this most charming meeting with his maternal host, he had that beating to look forward to. . . .

  Khalash!

  Pulling his chlamys down to hide his swollen arm, he headed for her chambers to get it over with.

  He knocked on the door and waited for her maid to answer. Per her normal routine, the maid didn't speak to him-the bitch who'd been attending his mother since his mother was a girl held him responsible for his mother's ruination and she despised him passionately for it.

  With a curled lip, Dristas opened the door wider and allowed him to enter while his guards remained outside.

  His mother was pacing in front of the window that looked out onto the back courtyard. She was more agitated than usual.

  Men! I hate them all. They're worthless, faithless pigs who should be slaughtered and gutted. Every one of them! May they all rot in Tartarus for eternity!

  Styxx drew up short as her enraged thoughts rang in his head. This was definitely a bad time.

  As he started to turn around and leave, his mother caught sight of him.

  "What are you doing here? You're not my Ryssa. "

  That was a definite affirmative. Her grand powers of observation never ceased to stun him.

  He lifted the small wooden box up so that she could see it. "I was bringing you your birthday gift, Matisera. But I can see it's a bad time. "

  She raked a sneer over him. "Another cheap trinket . . . Meaningless tribute from a worthless ingrate. "

  Not really. The cost had been rather dear. I should have spent the money on the horse I wanted. At least he would have gotten some joy out of that.

  And a little affection to boot.

  "I'll leave it here on your table for you. " He set it down, his heart aching for the hatred his mother bore him. "Happy birthday. " Wishing he could make her smile, just once, he turned to leave.

  The moment he did, she shrieked in outrage.

  Before Styxx could see what was wrong with her, he felt a sharp bite in his right shoulder. All her maids began screaming. Their voices, both in his head and out, were so shrill that he couldn't understand any of them. As he twisted around, there was another vicious pain in his arm, followed by another and another. Unable to comprehend the source of the sensation, he looked at his tiny mother and saw the bloodied knife in her hand as she pulled it out of his body.

  She moved to stab him again.

  Styxx caught her wrist and held it with his injured arm. The tip of the knife hovered directly over his heart which was what she'd have stabbed had he not stopped the blow. "Matisera?"

  "I'm not your mother, you whoreson!" She snatched her hand out of his weakened grip. Then, cradling the knife in both of her hands, she fell against him, using her full body weight to bury the knife deep in his chest.

  Styxx sank to the floor as his guards finally rushed into the room to seize her. Stunned and in shock, he stared up at the ceiling in horror of what had happened.

  His mother had stabbed him.

  Repeatedly.

  The knife was still buried in his flesh . . . all the way to the hilt. Biting his lip, he reached for it and jerked it out. Warm blood soaked his clothes as he waited to finally die. A sharp buzzing in his ears drowned out the sound of all the voices in his head, filling him with an unexpected sense of peace.

  "Styxx?"

  He heard his uncle's voice from far away. But he had no desire to go back to the hell he lived in. Instead, he closed his eyes and waited for Hermes to take him to Charon so that the ancient god could ferry him to his final resting place.

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