Styxx (Dark-Hunter 22)
But in the back of her mind was the fear of how he'd react should he ever learn that she'd lied to him about her identity. He hated the gods and their interference in human lives.
Would he one day learn to hate her, too?
November 15, 9529 BC
Styxx couldn't breathe as Acheron was savagely beaten in the courtyard below. Writhing on his bed, he had a portion of his chlamys in his mouth to keep from crying out from the pain. He fisted his hands in his blanket and arched his back as more blows struck him.
It always hurt when Acheron was beaten, but now ...
Their close physical proximity made it hurt all the more. He'd forgotten that one small fact.
He couldn't imagine what his brother had done to deserve this.
Sure you know ...
His father had been embarrassed somehow. It was the only time they would be beaten like this. And for this long.
Damn it, Acheron.
It'd taken Styxx years to figure out how to stay out of the line of fire. Just as he'd finally learned how to avoid his father's wrath, enter his idiot brother.
At last, it stopped.
Panting and weak, Styxx lay on the bed, aching all over. But it was his back that really burned. Thank the gods he hadn't been in public when it started or he'd be on his way to the temple again to have demons driven out.
He'd barely stopped his hands from shaking when his father threw his door open. Styxx tried to sit up, but the pain was still too much for that.
"Are you ill?"
"Bad stomach," he lied, hoping that would explain the sweat on his brow and pallor of his skin. "Did you need something, Father?"
"I found the bastard out in the square this afternoon. Apparently, he screwed his guards for his freedom. They're to be executed in the morning for their treason, and he's been beaten. Should you see him outside of his room, I want you to have him arrested immediately."
Styxx sighed at the ridiculous fury his father held against Acheron. "Why bother, Father? Just give him his freedom."
"Is that really what you want?"
"Yes. Why not?"
"He bears your face. Anything he does, reflects on you."
"I'm not that concerned about it."
Styxx realized too late that that was the wrong thing to say. His father stormed across the floor and grabbed him up in an angry fist.
"You want them to mock you as a whore? What kind of king would you be? No one would respect you. They damn sure wouldn't listen to you."
And yet some of them had already paid to fuck him ...
"You better learn to care, boy. In the minds of the people, that whore down the hall is you."
Don't do it ... don't say it....
But he couldn't stop himself.
"Maybe you should have thought of that before you had your brother train him and sell him as a whore."
His father backhanded him so hard, it knocked him from the bed.
Gasping, Styxx hit the floor and tried to clear his rattled senses. Before he could, his father kicked him hard in the ribs several times.
"How dare you! I should have you whipped for such impudent defamation!"
Styxx rolled over and looked up at his father. But for once, he didn't taunt him.
"If you want to be known as a whore, maybe I should have put both of you in a stew. Is that what you want?"
Not really.
His father kicked him again. You disgust me. You're not my son. You can't be.
"Get up off that floor. You're a future king, not some groveling peasant."
His body screaming out in protest, Styxx pulled himself to his feet and faced his father.
The king raked him with a look of scorn. "I can't believe I was saddled with you as an heir."
"Then perhaps you should see about acquiring that new queen and fathering more sons."
"Why? So they can grow up and be as big a disappointment to me as you are?"
"What can I say? I always strive to be the best I can at everything I do."
"Then you succeed. For you are truly the greatest mistake of my life. I should have bashed your head in when you were born and saved myself the misery and cost of raising you."
Styxx didn't say another word as his father stormed from his room. Really, what was there to say after that?
Other than he wished his father had bashed his head in, too.