Styxx (Dark-Hunter 22)

Chapter Thirty-One

Her father's face turned to stone. "I will not let him get away with it this time."

Tears flowed freely down her face at her father's blindness for the one true son he had. "This time? When have you ever allowed Acheron get away with anything?"

She blinked away the tears in her eyes as she tried to make him see reason. "Beware the viper in your closet. Isn't that another thing you're always saying, Father?" She cut a meaningful glare at Styxx. "Ambition and jealousy are at the heart of all betrayals. Acheron's only ambition is to stay out of your sight, and were he to have jealousy, it wouldn't be directed at you. But I do know of another who would gain immensely in his life were you gone."

Her father backhanded her. "How dare you implicate your brother."

"I told you, Father. She hates me. I wouldn't be surprised if she hasn't bedded the whore, too."

Ryssa wiped the blood from her lips. "The only person in this family that I know of who sleeps with whores is you, Styxx. I wonder if Acheron was supposedly seen in your favorite stew...." And with that she turned and headed out of the room and to the street to find Artemis and stop this before it was too late and Acheron was dead.

* * *

"Leave us!"

Acheron barely recognized the sound of his father's voice through the vicious, throbbing pains that racked his body. No part of him had been left unviolated or free of abuse. It even hurt to blink.

Once the room was empty, his father approached him where he lay on a cold, stone slab.

To his complete shock, his father brought him a ladle of water. Acheron cringed, expecting the king to hurt him worse with it.

He didn't. His father actually lifted his head and helped him to drink. But for the fact it would kill the king's beloved Styxx should he die, Acheron would think it poisoned.

"Where were you last night?"

Acheron felt a single tear slide from the corner of his eye at the question that had been asked over and over again. The salt from it stung the open wounds on his cheek as he drew a ragged, agonized breath. "Just tell me what to say, akri. Tell me what will keep me from being hurt any more."

His father roared with rage as he slammed the ladle down on the stone by Acheron's face. "I want the names of the men you met with."

And he didn't know the names of the senators. They'd seldom offered any before they'd screwed him.

And Artemis would never speak up in his defense. If he breathed a single word of their relationship to anyone, she would make this torture session appear desirous.

Acheron shook his head. "I met with no one."

His father buried his hand in Acheron's hair and forced him to look at him. "Give me the truth. Damn you!"

Lost to the pain, Acheron struggled to think of some lie that his father would believe, but as with the interrogator, he came back to the one single truth. "I didn't do it. I wasn't there."

"Then where were you? Have you a single witness to your whereabouts?"

Yes, but she'd never come forward. If he were Styxx and a prince, the goddess wouldn't be ashamed of their relationship. But Artemis would never stand up for a worthless whore. "I have only my word."

His father roared in anger. He reached for him, but before he could make contact, he froze in place.

Acheron held his breath as he tried to understand what was happening. An instant later, Artemis appeared beside him.

Stunned, he couldn't do anything other than stare at her.

"Your sister told me what they'd accused you of. Don't worry, your father will have no memory of this. Nor will your brother."

Acheron swallowed as he tried to understand what she was saying. "You're protecting me?"

She nodded. An instant later, he was returned to his room and healed. Acheron lay back on his bed, more grateful than words could express. But even so it didn't erase the pain of what he'd been through. Any more than it concealed the fact that Styxx was planning to overthrow his own father. The father who loved him more than the air he breathed.

How selfish could Styxx be? Their father doted on him ... gave him anything he wanted, and still it wasn't enough.

Styxx wanted ... no, he demanded everything.

What am I going to do?

Artemis materialized beside him. Her expression was sorrowful as she brushed the hair back from his face.

"Will Ryssa remember us?" he asked her.

"No. From this moment forward she won't even remember that you and I know each other."

That was for the best.

Acheron stared at Artemis, amazed at what she'd done. No, she hadn't stood up for him, but she had saved him. It was a major breakthrough from the last time she'd left him to their "tender" care and he'd been gelded. "Thank you for coming for me."

Artemis laid her hand to his cheek. "I wish I could take you away from here."

She was the only person who could do it. But her fear of being caught with a worthless whore was too great. And maybe she was right. What good would it do for her to be ruined over him?

He wasn't worth it.

Acheron kissed her on the lips even though he was still cold inside. He had nowhere to go and he was sick and tired of being here with people who hated him.

I want out. But every time he'd tried to kill himself, he'd been stopped.

Because of his idiot brother.

Acheron froze at the thought.

Styxx ...

In the blink of an eye the simplest answer to his predicament came to him. Why had he never thought of it before? It wasn't himself he needed to kill.

Pulling back from Artemis, he held her hand. "You should go before someone stumbles in here."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Not if he had his way. "Tomorrow."

Acheron watched as she faded, and the second she was gone, he immediately made plans for what was to come.

His father refused to let him die so long as his life was tied to Styxx's, and Styxx was plotting the death of his father.

The answer was so simple.

If he killed Styxx, his father would be safe and Acheron would be free.

Peace. He would finally have peace from this stygian existence.

February 19, 9527 BC

Styxx scowled as he readied himself for bed. Something had been off all day. He remembered leaving Bethany and then ...

There was a significant gap in his memory. The kind he only experienced whenever his uncle had drugged him or one of the gods had done something with him they didn't want him to remember-and that was what concerned him most. Why had someone tampered with his memory?

Who had tampered with it?

Most importantly, what had happened during those missing hours?

His jaw was sore as if it'd been punched, but he had nothing else to answer his questions. Frowning, he kept trying to piece the day together. How had he gotten from the palace steps to falling asleep in fresh clothes on the floor of his room? Had a servant not come to wake him for dinner, he might still be asleep there.