Styxx (Dark-Hunter 22)

Chapter Four

June 21, 9535 BC

Styxx rubbed at his brow as boredom threatened to kill him while his father conferred with the musicians over what would be played during his sister's coming-of-age banquet later tonight.

In spite of what Ryssa thought, she was by far their father's favorite. Even though his birthday was in two days, all preparations for his had been postponed in favor of hers. His father had even taken him aside three months ago to tell him as much.

You understand, boy. She reaches her full majority and it's not that important for you this year.

Truthfully, he didn't want any kind of celebration, ever again. Birthdays had never boded well for him, anyway. Neither his nor anyone else's.

At best all they did was remind him that he shared his birthday with a brother he was forbidden to see. And it wasn't like he had any friends to invite. Only users trying to curry favor with his father or with him.

Even if he had the delusion that someone might actually like him as a person, his ability to hear other people's thoughts quickly squelched that idiocy.

Princes had no friends.

Although, here lately, he had plenty of girls, and even full-grown women, from all social classes, who made numerous advances toward him. But they didn't care about him either. Rather they wanted to hold the bragging rights of being his first lover. Or better yet, become the mother to one of his bastard children so that he'd have to support them for their rest of their lives. He could barely move without one of them cornering him and stripping off her clothes or trying to fondle him, and while most men would welcome it, the fact that he heard their thoughts made him steer clear of their heartless traps. It was a total lust-kill when you knew beyond a doubt that the woman couldn't stand you, and that she'd be talking about you as soon as it was over, and not in a favorable way.

He'd rather die virgin than suffer any more ridicule for his ineptitude.

"Father!"

Styxx cringed at Ryssa's angry shriek as she ran into the room, holding one of her elaborate himations in her arms. Whatever it is that ails her, please don't let it be directed at me. Ryssa blamed him for everything-including his mother's brutal attack on him last year.

She wouldn't have stabbed you had you not deserved it! My mother is a gentle woman who wouldn't harm a soul. I know you, Styxx. You had to have said something awful to her to provoke it! She would never have attacked you otherwise. Admit it, you threatened or insulted her, didn't you?

Zeus help him, but if it rained tonight during her banquet, somehow that, too, would be his fault.

His father stepped away from the musicians to greet her.

"Look!" She shoved the garment at him. "They've crushed the embroidery on my himation! What am I to do?"

Go naked, dear sister. Oh wait ... better yet, wear one of your two million other gowns. Not like she didn't have a dozen chests bulging with them.

Their father cupped her cheek in his hand. The tender look on his face was enough to made Styxx's lip curl. If he dared to complain over something so trivial, he'd be publicly embarrassed at best, beaten at worst.

"Don't fret. They can fix it, kitten."

"No, Father. It's ruined." Huge tears fell down her cheeks. No wonder his father despised them. "I just won't attend. I can't. They'll all laugh at me." She narrowed her icy blue eyes on Styxx, who stiffened as his gut clenched.

Here it comes....

"You distracted my maid, didn't you?"

He had to struggle to keep the venom from his voice. "No."

"You're lying! I've seen the way you watch her. It's revolting."

"I don't watch your maid, Ryssa. I don't even know which one was responsible for your dress."

"Then you don't know if you've distracted her or not, do you? Do you!"

Styxx would throw his head back in exasperation, but he didn't want his father jumping all over him for disregarding her pain. Besides, Ryssa's hysterical tantrum was enough for anyone to deal with.

"You've probably destroyed my sandals, too. You'd love for all of them to laugh at me tonight, admit it." She stomped her foot at him.

"I don't want anyone to laugh at you, lamb-head. I just don't care." Styxx turned to walk away.

But Ryssa wouldn't let it go. She grabbed his arm and jerked him around to face her. "Why can't you ever learn to be happy for someone else? Huh?"

Honestly, I'd be thrilled if I could just learn to be happy for myself. "Unlike you, Ryssa, I don't waste my time worrying about other people."

"Exactly my point. You're so selfish and cold, it's disgusting."

"That's not what I meant," he said, but she was already gone. He started to fling his hands out in an obscene gesture then caught his father's angry glare and disturbing thoughts over the fact Styxx wasn't giving his sister due respect.

Instead, Styxx held his hands up in helpless surrender while Ryssa cornered their father with her complaints against her brother who could do nothing to please her.

Except die.

"You see, Father! You see how he treats people with such blatant disregard of their feelings? How can someone so cold and heartless be king? Zeus help us all with him on your throne."

I know. I'm not fit to breathe your precious air and I should be killed where I stand.

He was surprised she didn't come after him with a knife like his mother had. Gods save me from hysterical bitches.

Styxx started to turn away, but just as he moved, a fierce, unbelievable pain went through his tongue. It was so bad that he couldn't breathe for it, and it sent him straight to his knees as his head reeled.

What in the name of Hades?

He felt like he was choking on blood, and instead of easing, it worsened. Unable to stand it, he cried out in utter agony.

Oh gods, Acheron ... what are they doing to you now?

It was the only rational explanation. Over the years, he'd learned to hide the phantom pains that came when he wasn't expecting them. Most he understood. They were canings or beatings. Hair-pulling. Burns. Hunger pangs even though he'd just eaten ... But others, like this, he didn't comprehend what caused them. All he knew was how bad it hurt.

"Styxx?"

He heard his father's voice, yet he couldn't respond. His tongue was too swollen. While he didn't often show the physical traces of Acheron's injuries, he would at times have peculiar handprints or swollen places on his body. But never had anything like this happened before.

Arching his back, he tried to focus on something else. Yet it was impossible. Tears streamed down his face as his vision swam.

"He's faking." Ryssa snarled, kicking at his legs. "He's jealous that I'm getting all the attention and he can't stand it."