Styxx barely had time to draw his sword before the demon attacked. The beast spit acid at him. Ducking, he stabbed the demon and twisted away.
It grabbed the back of his armor. Styxx felt his Apollo mark heat up before something blasted the demon against the garden wall. The demon fell into a heap on the ground. Laughing, it wiped at the blood on its face. "Careful of the gods who protect you, dog. One day, they will all turn on you and show you what vermin you truly are." It vanished into a foul-smelling cloud.
Styxx scanned the garden, looking for other attackers as he backed his way out of the temple and returned to the street.
So, Agriosa had a bounty on him. Perfect, just perfect.
As for Apollo ... Styxx was grateful the mark had protected him from the demon, but honestly, he'd have rather been gutted than go through the horrors of that one night. He still had panic attacks and flashbacks from it. And he had no doubt that Apollo would eventually turn on him. The god had turned on every lover he'd ever taken.
Just don't let me die here. Alone. Not in this godforsaken country that had never housed anything but utter misery for him and his brother.
If he had to die, he wanted to be like his esteemed ancestor and die in the arms of the woman he loved, with her beautiful hazel-gold eyes being what he carried with him into eternity.
But deep in his gut was the fear that it would be Apollo who killed him and that bastard's cold gaze that was forever implanted in his mind.
August 8, 9530 BC
One year later
Styxx looked up from his map table as he heard a loud fanfare outside. What the...?
He knew his father wouldn't deign to visit a war camp, especially not one on foreign soil. And definitely not after all this time. Curious, he went outside to investigate the ruckus then froze at the unexpected sight of his men gathered around his tent.
Were they revolting?
Other than their collective smell, which was highly offensive ...
For that matter, he would rival the back end of his horse, too. There was no way to stay clean and fight a war.
Another cheer rose up from them.
"Happy Birthday, Prince Styxx!" they shouted in unison, and then cheered again.
His scowl deepened. "Thank you, but it's not my birthday."
"We know," Gaius, a hipparchus who led one of his cavalry units, said as he stepped forward. "But we learned that it was weeks ago and you said nothing about it."
Styxx swept his gaze over the men in his camp. "I'm not the only one here who has had an unremarked birthday come and go while we've been fighting."
His men went down on one knee before him.
Completely nonplussed, he wasn't sure how to react to their sudden genuflecting. In truth, it made him nervous.
Gaius rose and brought a folded, bright red cloak to him and placed it in his hands. "It's not very much, Highness, but it's all we could acquire without breaching your laws of conduct. We went in together to purchase it from the town we passed by yesterday."
Aghast at their thoughtfulness, Styxx held it tenderly. "Thank you. All of you. It's truly the noblest gift I've ever received and I shall treasure it as such."
Gaius saluted him. "We know the sacrifices you have made on our behalf, Highness, as well as the fact that you pay us extra from your own officer's salary and take almost nothing for yourself. Even though you've tried to hide it, we've seen you sell personal items to buy medicines and supplies for us when we needed them, and turn them down for yourself when they are in short supply so that the rest of us wouldn't have to do without. Everything you do for us has been most duly noted and deeply appreciated. There is no prince or king who would have remained by our side throughout these last two years without heading home for a few days of comfort. It is why we respect and follow you."
"That and the glory of the victories we've had," one of the men shouted from the crowd.
Laughter rang out.
Overwhelmed by their kindness, Styxx swallowed. "May the gods continue to bless us with victory."
"Gods bless us," they repeated then they began chanting his name.
One by one, they came up to bow before him.
Humbled to the depth of his being, Styxx patiently stood and spoke with each member of his army.
Galen was the last to approach him. "Are you all right?"
"My shoulder is killing me," he said under his breath while smiling at his departing men. "I could really use a chair."
Laughing, Galen held the tent flap open for him. "Come and sit, Highness."
Styxx obeyed and carefully placed his cloak on his desk. Stifling a groan, he sat down and sighed. Earlier in the day's fighting he'd been kicked back into a broken wooden lance that had stabbed him through the armhole of his armor.
Next time Bethany gave him a token for protection, he'd make sure she included wooden objects.
And clumsiness.
"You told them my birthday had passed?" Styxx asked.
Galen shrugged. "I mentioned it in passing to Gaius three days ago. I had no idea they'd do this."
Styxx felt tears prick his eyes over the unexpected gift that meant so much to him. But he wasn't about to let Galen see him weeping like an old woman. "I hope you didn't tell him my age."
"I'm not a fool, Highness. While they know you are young, there's no need in their learning just how green their esteemed victorious leader really is. It might send them screaming for home."
It might indeed.
Ten-and-eight. Barely. And yet he felt ancient.
Changing the subject, Styxx took a drink of wine. "Have you heard from your Antigone?" They'd received a messenger earlier in the day, and it was rare for one not to have at least one missive or gift for Galen from his daughter.
Galen pulled a shell necklace out from under his cuirass then took a seat next to Styxx so that he could hand it to him. "She and my granddaughter sent this. They are all well and can't wait to see my grizzled face again. What of your family?"
"All well," Styxx guessed. Yet honestly, he didn't know for sure. No one, not even his father, had contacted him. He assumed if Didymos had been invaded or something had befallen them, his family would have sent word.
But day after day, when messages came for him they were from other military commanders and kings, and had to do with the war, not with wishes for his health. Though to be honest, he liked to think that Bethany, in spite of her blindness, would have sent things to him had she known his real name. For all he knew, she'd tried numerous times.
At least that was he hoped and pretended.