Silently, he cursed as he realized a horrible truth about himself. He couldn't do this. Not in cold blood. Not this mercilessly.
Disgusted, he stepped back as he realized he was a coward.
No, not a coward. No matter what had happened in their past, they were brothers. Twins. He couldn't kill his own brother. Even if the bastard deserved it.
Your pain won't stop until you do this.
He wouldn't show such mercy to you.
It was true. He'd been willing to see him beaten, gelded and even killed if his father had been able to do it.
Styxx had no mercy for him, no pity or even compassion and if he allowed the man to live, Acheron's abuse would continue. It would most likely worsen once Styxx killed their father. And once their father was gone, Styxx would hurt Ryssa.
He'd already made those threats. Repeatedly.
She Styxx could kill with impunity. Acheron's blood ran cold with the reality of it. If not for himself, he had to protect his sister and her child.
Styxx had to die.
"Forgive me, brother," he whispered an instant before he stabbed Styxx straight through the heart.
Styxx gasped as his eyes flew open. Acheron staggered back, into the shadows while his brother tried to crawl out of bed. Falling onto the floor, Styxx collapsed as blood ran from the wound and pooled onto the stone.
His breathing ragged, Acheron waited for death to claim him too.
It didn't and with every continued heartbeat, panic began to set in.
He felt the same as ever. How could that be?
Maybe Styxx wasn't dead. Terrified he'd only wounded his brother, he went to him and pressed his hand to his neck. There was no pulse at all. No movement or any other sign of life. Rolling Styxx over, he saw that his skin and lips were already turning blue, his eyes were open and glazed.
Styxx was dead.
Yet Acheron lived.
Horrified, he ran for the door and then past the dozing guards, down the hall back to his own room. No! The word echoed through his mind over and over as he tried to make sense of this. If he died, Styxx died. If Styxx died . . .
Nothing happened to him. How could this be?
Why would the gods have done that? It didn't make any sense.
You've killed your own brother. Your twin.
Acheron leaned against his closed door as absolute horror filled him. They would kill him if they ever found out the truth. His father wouldn't forgive this. They would tear him apart . . .
Suddenly an alarm sounded through the palace as guards shouted to each other and clamored through the hallway.
They've already discovered his body. Gods help me!
Someone knocked on his door.
"Acheron?"
It was Ryssa. Acheron opened the door to see her there, her face pale and hair mussed. She wore a red wrap around her blue gown. "I wanted to make sure that you were all right. Someone tried to kill Styxx tonight."
Tried? No, he'd fucking succeeded. "What do you mean?"
Before she could answer, he saw Styxx behind Ryssa, his face flushed with anger as he led the guards through a search of the rooms. "Find my attacker! I want him now. Do you hear me? Search every corner until we have him!"
Acheron blinked in disbelief.
Styxx was alive? He was completely unprepared for what this meant. Styxx had been resurrected.
Why?
Ryssa shook her head. "Have you seen anyone?"
"I was in my room," he lied.
As if sensing him, Styxx froze then turned to face him. Though he was covered in blood there was no sign of the wound that had killed him. "Guards!" he roared.
Acheron stepped back in fear.
Styxx pointed to him. "Guard him. My attacker might realize that to kill me all he has to do is kill him first. I want someone guarding his back at all times."
If only his brother knew the truth . . . Thank the gods that he didn't.
"What a horrible night," Ryssa said. "I'd best go to Apollodorus. I know all this commotion will have him scared."
Acheron didn't move as she left him. Through the crack in the door, he watched the guards swarming the hallway and searching rooms. His brother was alive. He couldn't get past that one fact.
So their lives weren't truly bound together. At least not in a traditional sense. If he died, Styxx died. If Styxx died . . . there was no effect on him.
His father was right. He was unnatural.
Why would the gods protect him and not Styxx? It didn't make any sense.
Withdrawing into his room he decided to wait out the search until the house was again quiet. Once he was sure he could leave and not be seen, he wrapped his cloak around himself and headed out into the dark streets.
He remained hidden as he wended his way through the alleys to Apollo's temple. Once there, he knocked on the door.
"We're closed."
"I'm from the royal house," Acheron said forcefully. "It's imperative that I see the oracle."
The door opened a partial degree until the old wizened priest caught sight of his face. His demeanor immediately changed to one of subservience. "Prince Styxx, forgive me. I-I didn't realize it was you."
Acheron didn't bother to correct him. For once, he was grateful they were twins. "Take me to the oracle."
Without further hesitation, the priest led him through the columned walkway to the back where small rooms were set aside for the priests and attendants. The oracle's room was slightly larger than the others. It was bare and stark with only a small drapery-lined bed.
"Mistress?" the priest called as he headed for the bed. "The prince wishes a word with you."
A blond woman who couldn't have been much older than fifteen sat up on the bed and with the priest's help she stood, then walked toward him. By the way she moved, Acheron knew she was drugged. Heavily.
The priest led her to a tall chair that was set over a bowl with vapors. By the scent of it, he'd guess it contained Morpheus Root mixed with Risi Opsi, a compound that created fantastic hallucinations. It was something he'd only taken once after Euclid sang its praises, but that had been enough. It'd left him delirious with nightmares for two days.
"Leave us," she snapped at the priest. "You know the law."