Styxx cut a glower at his father, but said nothing as he entered the palace. "Where's Mother?"
"I exiled her, and she killed herself last spring."
Gaping at the emotionless disclosure, Styxx turned to his father. "And you didn't send word to me?"
"To what purpose? She was dead. There was nothing you could do."
He didn't know why, but grief racked him hard. Harder than he would have thought possible given their tumultuous relationship. Still, Aara had been his mother, and it saddened him that she was gone. He met Ryssa's aloof stare, but he knew that was a front. She and their mother had been close and the death had to sting her deeply.
"My deepest condolences, Ryssa."
"Don't spit on her memory with your insincerity. It's not becoming of the great war hero who got half his army slaughtered on his return."
"Ryssa!"
She blinked innocently at their father. "What? Your own advisors are the ones who've been calling him incompetent and saying that you should never have trusted your army to him."
And his men had actually feared his father would whip them for allowing him to be attacked....
Styxx let out a bitter laugh. "It warms the cockles of my heart to be cradled against the loving bosom of my adoring family. Thank the gods I survived to return to such affection." He headed for the stairs.
"Where are you going?" his father snapped. "I have a welcome party full of noblemen for you in the banquet hall."
Styxx glanced to where he'd been standing a second ago. His blood had made a small red puddle on the floor, marking the spot. He wiped at the sweat on his brow as his vision dimmed more. "Please forgive me for my insult to you and to them, Majesty. But I would rather bleed alone and not listen to how I failed Didymos and disappointed my king when I was the only Greek commander who won any fucking battles against the Atlanteans whatsoever ... and I did it on their home soil without Greek resources or reinforcements for battle."
Ryssa gasped. "If I spoke to you like that, Father, you'd have me whipped."
Styxx laughed bitterly as he continued up the stairs, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in his wake. "Please, sweet sister, name me one time in your entire spoiled bitch life that anyone laid a hand to you?"
"You have!"
"Years and years ago, when I was half your size. And I paid for it dearly." He turned at the top of the stairs to face them. "Now excuse me, beloved family, but I need to lie down before I pass out, and mourn a mother whose contempt of me is only surpassed by her bitch daughter's."
What has happened to you, boy?
He snorted derisively at his father's shocked thought. How pathetic that his father didn't know and didn't really care to learn.
Aching inside and out, Styxx went to his room and pulled a pillow from the bed. He'd been sleeping on the ground for so long that he wasn't sure what a bed would feel like anymore.
Without bothering to remove his armor, he sank to the floor and stretched out to rest.
Ah, beautiful home. How much he loathed it.
September 13, 9530 BC
Bethany toyed with the ring on her finger as she waited, yet another day, for a visit she was certain would never come again. Her Hector was dead. She knew it.
If not from their war then from his homecoming slaughter that had all but destroyed Prince Styxx's Stygian Omada. While her family had laughed and rejoiced over the treachery of the Greek dogs, the news had struck her like a blow.
Hector had to be dead or he'd have come to her by now.
Sick to her stomach and saddened more than she'd ever been, she started to rise then felt a sudden presence near her. "Who goes there?"
For several heartbeats, she heard nothing.
Then a deep, low whisper answered her. "A weary soldier who is fearful that he's been forgotten or replaced."
Tears filled her eyes and choked her. "My Hector has not been forgotten and he could never be replaced."
Only then did he kneel by her side and pull her against him. He was much leaner than he'd been, but also much more ripped. His muscles were even larger and harder than before. She cradled his head in her hands as he rocked her in his arms. While his hair was shorter than it'd been when he left her, he now had a full beard.
"I lived only for the chance that I could come back and hold you again."
Hot tears flowed down her cheeks. "I hate you for the pain you've caused me in your absence. You beast! The fear that you were dead and burned..."
He sucked his breath in sharply as she touched his back.
"Hector?"
"I've returned, but not in one whole piece." He pulled away and carefully sat down on the ground by her side.
"What happened? Why did you remove my amulet?"
"Once we reached Greece, I foolishly took it off to toy with it. I had no idea we were about to be attacked by our own allies. But have no fear..." He placed her hand over his wrist to show her that it was back in place.
"You were hurt?"
"I certainly didn't stab my own back. Though, given my superior incompetence, I'm surprised I haven't found a way to do so."
She kissed his cheek. "Is it just your back?"
"Sadly, no. I took twenty-and-four stabs to my back, hand, side, and front, and one to my left cheek, just to make sure I was good and humiliated."
She touched his face.
"Not that cheek, my sweet. That one wouldn't have bothered me so."
In spite of the seriousness, she laughed. That explained the peculiar way he was sitting, but ... "You are not funny.... Can I do anything to comfort you?"
He pulled her hand to his lips and inhaled her skin before he nibbled her fingers then he stretched out on his side ... with his left cheek up. "You comforted me the moment I saw you here. I swear you've grown even more beautiful in my absence."
She lay down, facing him. "I'm scared to touch you for fear of causing you pain."
He placed her hand over his heart and held it there so that she could feel the rapid beat through his chiton. "Even if you hurt me, I'll enjoy it."
"You're so masochistic."
"I am indeed." Sighing, he laid his head down on his arm next to her head then moved her hand to his bearded cheek so that she could feel the expressions on his face. "What pains me most is that after all these long, arduous months, I can't make love to you like I've dreamed of doing every single night."
She moved her hand to toy with his curls that wrapped around her fingers. His hair was shorter than when he'd left, but it was still long enough to tease her. "Has anyone ever told you that your voice is very similar to Prince Styxx's?"
"And when did you hear his voice, my lady?"
"Several times when he's been in public. But you're nothing like him."
"How are we so different?"
She kissed his nose. "You are sweet and precious. And there isn't an arrogant bone in all of your body."
"Perhaps the prince isn't as bad as you assume."
She arched a brow at that. "You defend him?"
"I've suffered and bled for him these many months past. I'd have to be a royal bastard to not defend him now."
She made a face at him. "Let's not bicker over my opinion of your worthless prince. You're the only man I want to think about right now." She kissed him lightly on the lips. "I've missed you so."
Styxx closed his eyes as she licked and teased his neck. This alone had been worth coming back for.
But even as that thought brought a smile to his lips, fear made his stomach ache. He'd heard the same contempt in her voice when she spoke of the prince as his family had for him. How would she react if she learned who he really was?
Never mind the fact that for almost three years now, he'd lied to her.
She would hate you as much as everyone else. Worse, she'd never forgive him. She'd think that he'd mocked her and, like Ryssa, accuse him of horrible things he'd never thought or done or intended. And if she ever learned of the wretched, degrading bargain Apollo had forced on him ...