Wishing he could stay in his dreams with her for awhile longer, Styxx laid her necklace down and reached for his wine. "Enter."
An Athenian soldier he'd never seen before came inside, leading a small group of similarly dressed men. "Prince Styxx?"
"Yes?"
"We heard you were arriving any day now, and wanted to welcome your army home."
"Thank you." Styxx cocked his head as he realized that the sounds outside had grown much quieter.
A bad feeling went through him as he glanced over to his weapons and armor on the other side of the tent, near his pallet. In that instant, it dawned on him that one of his dekarmatoli should have escorted these men into his tent and hadn't.
Styxx narrowed his gaze on them. "So what can I do for you?"
"In short, Highness ... you can die." The leader leapt forward.
Styxx rolled from the chair. He punched the first soldier hard in the solar plexus, knocking him back. As he twisted past the second one, the third one slid a dagger into his side before he could outmaneuver him. Styxx hissed in pain then kicked him back. But it was too late. The first one had recovered and stabbed him in the back.
His ears buzzed from their hatred and his pain. Styxx sank to the ground while they rained stabs down on him. Warm blood rushed over his skin until it coated him.
Their leader kicked him over onto his back and raked his bloody body with a contemptuous sneer. "A homecoming present, prince, from the commanders who weren't victorious in the war." The soldier used his dagger to pin Styxx's sword hand to the ground.
Laughing, they left him there to die.
His breathing labored, Styxx stared at the Thracian dagger buried in his palm and choked on his own blood. After everything he and his men had been through, after all the attacks and battles they'd survived against enemies, it was their own allies who annihilated them on their home shores.
And not for glory or for family.
For petty fucking jealousy.
September 3, 9530 BC
"Careful, Highness, drink slowly."
Styxx groaned as someone lifted his head and gently poured water into his mouth. Then that person laid his head back so that he could see Galen's concerned, grizzled face. Of course Galen was the one tending him. Who else would bother?
His old tutor had a deep cut down his left cheek, but otherwise appeared whole.
Styxx squinted against the pain and brightness of the light coming in through heavy drapes. "The men?"
"About half survived."
Half?
Half ...
He winced at the mental pain of their loss. That news cut him far worse than the daggers the cowards had used on him. "Did you get the ones responsible?"
"Not enough of them. I did manage to capture one of the men who attacked you. I bled him dry and got some information from his traitorous tongue."
"And?"
"They were mercenaries. The coins used to pay them were from all the Greek city-states, including Didymos. You were their primary target. Our men were only a bonus." Galen pressed something into his uninjured hand then withdrew.
"Continue," Galen shouted.
Styxx's bed was lifted and moved forward. Galen had placed him inside a litter to be carried home. Grimacing in pain, he opened his hand to find Bethany's necklace in his palm. Thank the gods, Galen had saved it. Leave it to his mentor to know it would be important to him.
He held it to his heart and closed his eyes then thought of his men who'd been ambushed and killed. Anger consumed him that he'd let his guard lax. Why had he not been more vigilant? Armed? Why had he given them freedom to wench?
Because they'd finally made it home where they were supposed to be safe. These were the people they'd all fought and bled to protect.
Grief and agony shoved his anger aside. No one could be trusted. His uncle and father should have taught him that.
His own mother.
Would Bethany one day turn on him, too? The thought kicked him hard, but he refused to let these beasts destroy his faith in the only woman he'd ever loved.
Styxx rapped on the frame of his litter. After a few seconds, the men outside set it down.
In spite of the pain, he sat up. As he started to rise, Galen appeared by his side.
Galen scowled at him. "What are you doing?"
"I don't deserve to be carried."
"Highness-"
"I lapsed my guard and my men died for it. I will not lie here and be coddled when I should have died with them."
"Styxx!" Galen snapped, but Styxx refused to listen as he pushed himself to his feet and did his best not to stumble as he left the litter.
"My horse!" Styxx shouted.
Galen pulled him into his arms and held him close. "I know the pain you carry, ���æ��ЦǦ�έvoς ��o�� �æ�ός," he whispered in Styxx's ear. My beloved son ...
That single endearment choked Styxx and brought tears to his eyes. It was the first time in his life anyone had referred to him as such.
"I've carried it myself," Galen continued, "but dying now will not bring them back."
I'm not going to die. He knew that with bitter certainty. And he would not be carried on the backs of men who were injured and grieving themselves.
A young shield-bearer brought Troian to him and held the horse by his side.
Styxx embraced Galen like a father then withdrew. "My men deserve better." After thanking the boy who'd brought him his horse, he ignored the shocked looks on the faces of his litter-bearers and soldiers as he slowly pulled himself up into the saddle unassisted.
Ignoring the pain, he kicked his horse and rode to the front of his troops then wheeled around to face them. One by one, he swept his gaze over the grim expressions of men who should have been returning in high spirits. And as he scanned them, he noted that Gaius wasn't among the survivors.
His gut clenched tight.
He wanted to say something, but words failed him just as he'd failed to keep his people safe.
All of a sudden, his men began chanting his name and cheering for him then as a single unit, they went down on one knee.
Styxx couldn't understand it. He definitely didn't deserve this honor after they'd been slaughtered on home soil.
"Good men," he said, his throat tight. "I vowed to all of you when we left Didymos that I would never forget the sacrifice I was asking each of you to make. That I would never be capricious or careless with your safety, and I failed all of you. For that, I beg your forgiveness."
Tersus, one of his advisors, kicked his horse forward. "Highness, you didn't fail us. We were drunk on victory when we were attacked. You were the only sober man among us. It was our duty to protect our future king. Your father will have us whipped for our dereliction that almost got you killed."
"No one will be punished for what happened," Styxx assured him. "You have my word on that. All of you have suffered enough." He bowed to his men. "Now let's go home to our families and pray we never have to raise our swords again."
September 3, 9530 BC
Exhausted and aching, Styxx lay on his pallet in his tent. The physician had just finished checking his bandages and left him to rest for the night. But he couldn't relax or sleep. Over and over, images of being attacked, of battle, and a thousand other things he didn't want to remember tortured him.
He couldn't breathe. A part of him wanted to run like a madman, screaming out into the night. But how would that look to the men who'd trusted him with their lives?
Shaking and scrambled, he pushed himself up and stumbled toward his desk. He poured wine into his cup and downed it all in one gulp then reached for more.
Outside, he heard his men's anger. They blamed the kings for this attack. Had they not been called back so soon, they would be celebrating a victory in Atlantis tonight, not suffering defeat at home.
From their own people.
And still none of them knew why they'd been summoned back....
Unless it was to be slaughtered.
Surely not. But as Galen would say, wars were nothing more than old men bragging about their own withered prowess while sending their sons out to die in their stead. And while there were many political ideas worth killing for, none were worth dying over.
Although Styxx no longer agreed with the latter.
Pissed and disgusted, he glared at his injured sword hand as the images of the men he'd killed in battle tore through him.
No, he definitely didn't agree with Galen. There were political causes he would die for, but never again would he kill for one. Nor would he ask anyone else to do so. Life was too precious for that.
He would only raise a sword to protect Bethany and Galen. No one else. And definitely nothing else.
"Why so sad, young prince? You're heading home. You should be thrilled."
Styxx went cold at the voice he hated most of all. His breathing intensified even more as he looked up to find Apollo on the other side of his desk. "What are you doing here?"
"I've come to welcome home the victorious Didymosian prince. Is that not what I'm supposed to do?"
Styxx hissed as the mark on his back heated up and burned his skin. He shot to his feet only to have Apollo materialize right in front of him. The god reached to touch his face.
He stepped back, out of reach.
"Don't be like that, prince."
For a moment, Styxx considered calling out for his guards, but there was no telling what Apollo might do to them. Two of the ten had already been slaughtered on home soil. The rest had barely survived.
He wouldn't sacrifice another of his men.
"I want you to leave me alone."
Apollo laughed. "That's not going to happen. See ... you're headed home now because your father and the other Greek kings intend to offer up your sister as a virgin sacrifice to me."
Granted, his head was swimming from pain and drink, but surely he'd misunderstood what Apollo just said. "What?"
Smirking, the god nodded. "It's true. They want the war with Atlantis to stop and to have their lands left alone. To keep me happy and to assure my continued benevolence for Greece over Atlantis, Ryssa is to be my sanctified mistress."
Great. He'd laugh if it wasn't so damned horrifying. He'd killed his uncle to save his sister from rape, only to have his father whore her to the one creature he hated most.
Why did I bother?
Apollo vanished then reappeared right behind Styxx. Wrapping his arms around his waist, he pulled Styxx back against him and leaned down to inhale the scent of Styxx's hair.
Cringing with repugnance, Styxx tried to pull free, but Apollo held him fast. "Just so you know, Ryssa's not the one I really want." His teeth elongated as he nuzzled Styxx's neck. "I hunger for someone much more robust and filling."
"Release me!"
Apollo dragged his fangs over Styxx's jugular and applied just enough pressure to hurt, but not break the skin. "You will give me what I want, prince," he whispered. "I've seen how much your men mean to you, especially that old one who coddles you. So be honest with me and yourself. What do you value more? Your own precious ass or theirs?"
In spite of the horrendous pain it caused, Styxx struggled even harder against him. "I will not whore for you! I've heard too many tales about what happens to your cast-offs."
Apollo laughed as he ran his hand over the place on Styxx's back where he'd burned his mark into Styxx's skin and to the wound where one of his attackers had buried a dagger in the center of that hated sun symbol. "That's nothing compared to what happens to the ones who deny me. Remember what I told you when you were in the Dionysion? Sooner or later, all people will whore for something. If you don't accept me, I will see the rest of your army destroyed by your enemies who still trail you, seeking to finish the job they started ... your precious kingdom broken into dust, that old man you love slaughtered, and your sister trained and sold as a tsoulus at market."
The Olympian dropped his hand down to where Styxx was branded as a tsoulus and pressed his fingers against the mark, letting Styxx know that he'd seen the brand the last time they were together.
"And once I have destroyed all their lives, I will take you to Olympus and make you serve us all alongside Prince Ganymede. So your basic choice is you whore for me alone, anytime and anyplace I desire you, and no one knows about us, or you bend over for every god on Olympus and spend eternity listening to Greek scribes regale your fate as a cautionary tale for others for thousands of years to come."
Styxx clenched his teeth at his options. "What's my third choice?"
"There's not one, and if you try to kill yourself ... let's just say, don't." Apollo kissed the back of his head and cupped him. "So what's your decision, little prince? And don't forget, either way, I win."
September 9, 9530 BC
Unlike his men, Styxx felt no joy whatsoever as he rode through the palace gates and neared the steps where his "family" waited to welcome him home. Honestly, he hadn't missed anything about this place.
How sad, he'd rather be in battle than face his father, mother, and sister.
Reining his horse, he braced himself for the pain to come then dismounted slowly. While most of his wounds had healed, some of the deeper ones remained, and all caused him misery as he made his way up the stairs to greet his king.
His father embraced him. "Welcome home."
Styxx inclined his head before he saw Ryssa standing behind their father.
"Brother." She curtsied to him.
Amazed he didn't have frostbite from her tone and glare, he gave her a curt bow. "Sister."
His father clapped him on the back right where he'd been stabbed then headed for the palace doors.
Unable to catch his breath, Styxx froze as sheer agony tore through him. For a full minute, it stung so badly he saw stars from it. Worse, he could feel fresh, warm blood seeping down his spine.
Unaware he'd reopened a wound, his father didn't know Styxx wasn't with him until he reached the doors. He turned back with a deep scowl.
His breathing labored, Styxx forced himself to continue onward. Sweat broke out on his forehead as his gaze dimmed and he feared he'd pass out on the stairs.
His father ran his gaze over the dispersing army. "Your returning numbers aren't as great as I'd hoped."
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 ...
He wanted to vomit as fear and hatred mingled inside his heart.
Why can't I find someone who can accept all of me? The only one who did was Galen. Only he saw Styxx's heart and understood his real intentions and actions.
"Why are you so sad? Did I say something wrong?"
"No." It was both a lie and the truth. He didn't want her to censor her words around him. Not even when they kicked him in the crotch and left him bleeding. "I'm not quite the boy who left you, Beth. I fear war has changed me."
"How so?"
"In ways that are hard to define. I spent almost two years ankle-deep in blood and body parts. I've held the hands of old men and young boys as they took their last breaths. I've seen boys who were far too young, who weren't even old enough to shave yet, cut down and taken by illnesses we couldn't treat. We burned our dead, day and night, until the stench of it is permanently lodged in my throat and nose. There were days when the fighting was so thick that enemy arrows and spears blocked out the sun from us."
Bethany's heart clenched at the pain she heard in his voice. She knew each of the battles he spoke of, and the horrors. But this was the first time she'd seen them through the eyes of the men who actually fought them. Men who didn't know if they'd live through it or lose a part of their body.
Never before had she understood the fear of the families left behind and how hard it was to wait for a loved one they might never see again. Tears welled in her eyes as she wished she could take those memories from him. "How did you stand it?"
"I would think of you. Knowing you were here, depending on me to come back ... that you would cry if I didn't ... I'm not sure I would have made it through some of the battles had you not been in my heart." He rubbed her hand against the line of his jaw. "I definitely wouldn't have ridden home so fast."
She smiled at his humor then kissed him. "I don't ever want to be without you again."
"Hopefully you won't. I've heard that the city-states have joined together for another truce that should last."
Bethany's stomach shrank at his words. She knew just how temporary the truce would be. "Promise me, if something happens and we have to go to war again, you won't fight."
"I can't do that, Beth."
"Why not?"
Styxx clenched his teeth as he sought a reason he could give her that wouldn't reveal his true identity. "How can I stay at home knowing that men who have fought by my side and protected me, men I have bled to protect, are going to die? As hard as it is to live with the memories of war, I would never be able to face myself as a coward."
She didn't take his words well, but neither did she speak against them.
Leaning forward, Styxx nibbled her lips, reveling in the taste he'd missed more than any other. "I'm tired of speaking and thinking about war. Tell me how you've been. Is your uncle still annoying you? Has your mother finally killed your Aunt Epi? How's your mother? Did your grandfather ever get his sword back from his brother?"
Bethany was stunned by his words. "I can't believe you remember all of that."
"There is nothing about you I forget."
Bethany rolled onto her back and pulled him down to lie against her. He tensed as his pain increased, but after a few minutes he relaxed while she told him partial stories about her extensive family. For a few minutes he was so still that she thought he'd fallen asleep. Until she realized he was slowly working his way through the side of her peplos.
"What are you doing?"
He shifted his weight ever so slightly then skimmed his hand across the skin of her thigh. "What I have dreamed of doing every night since I last saw you."
Chills spread over her at the warmth of his hand questing for the part of her that was instantly throbbing for his touch. Bending her knees, she parted her thighs.
Styxx sucked his breath in sharply at how wet she was already. Even though his body protested, he pushed her peplos aside and opened her for his hungry gaze.
She moaned as he toyed with her. He sank his thumb deep into her body. Biting her lip, she rode his fingers for several minutes while he nibbled her hand and watched the pleasure playing out on her face.
"I've missed you, Beth," he breathed then he dipped his head to taste her.
Bethany cried out as his tongue replaced his fingers. Reaching down between her legs, she sank her hand into his hair and savored the way he licked and teased her. He used his whiskers to heighten her pleasure as he dragged them down her cleft, sending chills all over her.
"Come for me, Bethany. I need to taste your pleasure."
Those words sent her over the edge. Throwing her head back, she screamed out as her release tore through her. Still, he didn't stop. He licked and teased and suckled every last tiny bit of pleasure out of her body.
Panting and weak, she laid her fingers over his cheek. "I think you killed me, Hector."
"I can think of much worse ways to go."
She laughed at that then sat up and patted the ground until she found him.
Styxx frowned as she slid down his body. "What are you doing?"
"Returning the favor, my lord."
He arched his brow as she lifted the hem of his chiton and exposed his hard cock to her warm, soft hand. Thanks to Estes and Apollo, he didn't like to be fondled or cupped as a rule.
But the sight of her hand on his body ... He kept his eyes open to watch as she bent her head and swallowed him whole.
Sucking his breath in, he shivered at the sensation of her tongue swirling and teasing him with pure bliss. In his heart, he wanted this to last, but it'd been too long since he'd been with her.
Way too soon, he growled and released himself.
Great ...
He'd done better as a virgin. Total embarrassment filled him. "Sorry, love."
She licked him clean then smiled. "Why are you apologizing for something that means the world to me?"
"How so?"
"Given how much pain you're in and how quickly you came just now ... I know you haven't been near another woman while you were gone."
"That I definitely haven't." He cupped her face in his palm. "Did you find the ring I left for you?"
She held her hand up for him to see it in place.
He smiled in happiness. "Did anyone read the inscription to you?"
"Faithfully yours."
Styxx traced the line of her lips with his thumb. "I don't promise anything lightly, Beth. And I would die before I willingly did something that hurt you. You are the only woman I will be with. Ever. On my honor."
She smiled at his words then stood up. To his shock and pleasure, she removed her peplos and, completely naked, laid back down by his side. Taking his uninjured hand, she kissed his palm then placed it over her heart, between her bare breasts. "I love you."
Touched to the core of his soul, he leaned down to nuzzle her breast then her cheek. "I love you, too. I always will. And I pray to the very gods I despise that they never separate us again."
"Gods you despise?"
He had to stamp down his anger so as not to offend her with his blasphemy. Unlike him, she was a devout follower. "I know you love them, Beth. But I don't. They've been too cruel to me for far too long."
"Sometimes-"
He covered her lips with his. "Please don't defend them. You can't. But ... if they will just keep you with me, I might one day forgive them and be at peace with them again."
"I will teach you how to love them."
Tears filled his eyes at her words. He didn't doubt her abilities. If anyone could convert him, it was she. After all, he wouldn't have known any kind of love had she not tamed him with her gentle heart and touch.
For that, he was willing to forgive the bastards who'd cursed him.
Just don't take her from me....
That would begin an even greater war than the one he was returning from.
October 31, 9530 BC
Styxx froze as he came face-to-face with Acheron as they both left the open, public gymnasium. His brother wore a dark gray chiton and blue cloak-something that would have Acheron beaten if seen. All prostitutes were required to wear a specific red chiton whenever they were in public.
But Styxx would never tell.
He was glad Acheron looked a good deal healthier than he'd appeared the last time they'd met. And the irony that both of them were here this day, pretending to be someone they weren't while doing the same exact thing, wasn't lost on him.
They were twins, after all.
For a moment, he thought Acheron would speak to him.
He didn't. Instead, he pulled his cowl down lower over his face and made his way out of the amphitheater.
A part of Styxx wanted to chase after him, but what was the use? Really? Time and bitterness divided them.
They had both said and done things to each other that were unforgivable.
And yet ...
He missed his brother. Dearly. Those stolen moments of friendship when they'd played together and laughed. He would give anything if he could go back to that time when the world hadn't been quite so cold and harsh. Back to when he hadn't been what he was now.
Although, anymore, he wasn't quite sure what he was.
Other than lost.
His soldiers treated him like some mythical hero. His father and the senate like some overindulged brat who should be spanked. His sister like he was a demon sent to torment her. And in his heart, he knew he was a killer....
And a whore.
Like his brother.
Only Bethany made him feel noble and cherished. But that would change instantly if she ever learned the truth of his identity or what Apollo had forced on him against his will. Then she would hate him forever for the lie he'd told her to protect himself.
Galen alone treated him like a son. But he hadn't seen his old mentor since their return. Before Galen had even dismounted, Styxx had sent him on to be with his family-had ordered him to take at least three months with them before he even considered returning to town.
Honestly, Styxx envied Galen's daughter and grandchildren. He hoped they knew what a rare gift it was to be cherished by Galen the way they were, and that they never took the old man's love for granted.
"Highness?"
