Styxx (DH #33) (3 page)

She shook her head. “And if you tell a soul, I swear I’ll join Apollymi against you.”

Rage clouded her vision as Bet’anya glared at her. “Do not threaten me. God or not, I will feed on your entrails. But in this, you don’t have to fear. I have no desire to kill a defenseless baby.”

Epithymia released her. “Good. Because I have a plan. Apollymi wants me to oversee his birth to make sure nothing goes wrong with it, and I intend to deliver him myself.”

Bet’anya’s stomach clenched at what the goddess was telling her. “You intend to touch a babe who will be born without god powers?”

She nodded.

That was so cold.…

“The humans will tear him apart in their desire to possess him. And they will hate him for it.”

Epithymia winked at her. “I’m just following my orders from Apollymi. To the letter.”

“Why not tell Archon—”

“She’ll rip out my heart and devour it if I do. I wouldn’t cross that bitch for anything. I cannot even hint at where that child is or anything else about his birth. She wrung an oath from me.”

And Atlantean gods could never breach their oaths. As such, they tried their best to never make any.

“It would be kinder to kill him on delivery than to leave him with your touch and no protection.”

Epithymia held up her hands. “Apollymi won’t let me. So I’m doing this her way. And if you breathe a word…”

“My oath, I will
never
tell the ones hunting him where he is or what it is you do.” No sooner had those words left her lips than she realized what she’d said. It was just such a slip that had cursed poor Apostolos.

Epithymia glared at her.

“I didn’t mean…” There was no need in explaining. “Fine. I can still kill him if I find him.”

Epithymia relaxed. “Good luck, Agriosa.” She left to go to her own temple down the hill.

Bet’anya sighed at Epi’s parting shot that referred to the fact that she was also a goddess of the hunt. She absolutely hated the thought of harming a child.

Any child.

And yet …

What she’d said was true. Death would be the kindest act. Otherwise, that child would live a life of absolute agony. No one should be condemned to such a horrific fate.

“I’m sorry, Apostolos.”

As in all battles, when a soldier’s wound was mortal, no matter his age, and there was no doubt he would die from it, the kindest thing was to end his suffering with a single fatal blow.

She would commit this mercy killing and pray that one day Apollymi could understand and forgive her. It was for the good of all.

Especially the boy.

Her only hope was that she found the child first. The other gods would not be so merciful to him.

June 23, 9548 BC

King Xerxes stared down at the infant boy who peacefully slept in his arms. How could his joy have turned so bitter so fast? For a moment, he’d believed himself to be the most blessed of all kings. That the gods had granted him two sons to rule his vast empire.

Now …

Did he even have one?

There was no doubt that the firstborn, Acheron, was born of the gods. That his wife-queen had whored herself to them and birthed it.

But Styxx …

The king studied every inch of the perfect, sleeping child nestled against his body. “Are you mine?” He was desperate to know the truth.

The infant appeared to be a mere human babe. Unlike Acheron, whose eyes swirled a living silver color, Styxx’s were vivid blue and perfect. But then the gods were ever treacherous.

Ever deceitful.

Could it be that Acheron was his son and this one was not? Or that neither child belonged to him?

He looked to the elder wise woman who’d proclaimed Acheron a god’s son just after his birth. Decrepit and wizened, she wore heavy white robes that were richly embroidered in gold. Her gray hair was wrapped around an ornate gold crown. “Who is the father of this child?”

The woman paused in her cleaning. “Majesty, why do you ask me something you already know?”

Because he didn’t know. Not for certain. And he hated the taste of fear that scalded his throat and left it bitter. Fear that made his heart pound in trepidation. “Answer me, woman!”

“Truth or lie, will you believe whatever answer I give?”

Damn her for her sagacity. How could the gods have done this to him? He’d sacrificed and prayed to them his whole life. Devoutly and without blasphemy. Why would they taint his heir in this manner?

Or worse, take his heir from him?

He tightened his grip, which caused the baby to wake and cry out. A part of him wanted to slam the child into the ground and watch it die. To stomp it into oblivion.

But what if this one
was
his son? His own flesh and blood …

The wise woman had said it was.

However, she merely relayed what the gods told her, and what if
they
lied?

Angry and betrayed, he went to the woman and shoved the infant into her arms. Let someone else solace it for now. He couldn’t bear the sight of either child.

Without another word, he stormed from the room.

The moment she was alone with the babe, the old crone transformed into a beautiful young woman with long black hair. Dressed in bloodred, she placed a kiss to the boy’s head and he instantly calmed down.

“Poor, poor Styxx,” the goddess Athena whispered as she rocked him in her arms to soothe him. “Like your brother’s, yours will be an unpleasant future. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for either of you. But the human world needs its heroes. And one day, they will all need
you
.”

March 10, 9543 BC

Five years later

“You wretched little thief!”

Styxx looked up at the shrill cry of his older sister. Ryssa towered above him and his twin brother Acheron as they played with their wooden horses and soldiers on the floor.

Why was she always so cross at him? No matter what he did to try and please her, it was never enough.

Ryssa hated him. She always had.

“I took nothing.”

Curling her lip, she closed the distance between them and yanked him up from the floor by his arm. “Where did you put it, you worthless little worm?” she demanded, shaking him so hard it felt as if she’d rip his arm off.

Styxx tried to break free, but she was too strong for him. “Put what?”

“The toy horse Father gave me for my birthday. I know you collect them and I know you stole mine. Where is it?”

“I haven’t touched it.”

“You’re such a liar!” She threw him toward the ground then went to search his things again. “Where have you hidden it?”

Styxx met Acheron’s gaze. “Did you take it?” he whispered to his brother.

Acheron shook his head.

Then who?

“What are you doing in here?”

All of them froze at the sound of fury in their nurse’s voice. Before Styxx could explain that he’d invited Acheron in to play with him, the nurse snatched his brother away.

Acheron cried out as the nurse’s grip bit into his small arm. “How many times have you been told to stay in your own room?”

Styxx panicked as he realized Acheron still held one of the soldiers in his hand. Even though he’d given them to his brother, he knew what would happen if anyone saw it in Acheron’s possession.

His brother would be punished. Again.

Wanting only to protect Acheron, Styxx launched himself from the floor and grabbed it out of Acheron’s hand.

Acheron offered him a small smile of gratitude before he was taken away.

“You!” Ryssa sneered as she glared at the toy he held. “You’re so selfish. You never think of anyone but yourself. What would it have hurt to let him keep one toy? Huh?” She gestured to the others scattered on the ground. “Nothing’s ever enough for you, is it? You always want more and you don’t care who you take it from.”

She jerked the toy from his hand, cutting his palm in the process, and stormed from his room.

Heartbroken, Styxx stood alone. He hated being by himself with a passion that made no sense. Ofttimes, he wondered if it came from being born a twin. Surely the gods wouldn’t have given him a brother if they meant for him to be forever by himself.

And yet, he spent very much of his life alone.

Sighing wistfully, Styxx glanced around the room that was littered with toys. He would gladly give them all away if he could only have one person to play with. Ryssa refused because she didn’t like him and he was a smelly boy, and, according to her, he was too stupid to follow the games she played with Acheron. The other children ran away from him because their parents were afraid they might hurt him, either by accident or on purpose, and incur his father’s wrath.

Acheron was the only one who welcomed him as a playmate. But their father demanded they stay separated.

Styxx looked down at his brother’s toy and wished with everything he had that it was different for them both. Rather they’d been born poor farmers than have to endure the burden of this wretched family and its meanness.

He set the toy aside. Later, after everyone was asleep, he’d return it to his brother.

*   *   *

“
A
cheron?” Styxx whispered
, nudging his sleeping brother awake.

Slowly, Acheron blinked his eyes open. Rubbing them with his fist, Acheron sat up in bed. Styxx shoved the loaf of sweet bread in his face, making Acheron smile the moment he saw it.

“I didn’t bring the honey, sorry. But…” Styxx opened his small cloth bag to show the sugared figs he’d taken. “I managed to pilfer your favorite.”

Acheron’s silver eyes lit up. “Thank you! But you shouldn’t have. You could have been caught.”

Styxx shrugged. “I wouldn’t have been hurt over this.” At least not physically—those beatings were reserved for other offenses. Though there were times when he’d prefer being hit to listening to them call him worthless or other names.

Glad he’d helped his brother, Styxx watched as Acheron tore into the bread. Since they’d sent them both to bed with no supper, Acheron was starving. But as usual, Styxx had been unable to sleep and so once the palace quieted down, he’d snuck to the pantry.

“What did you eat?” Acheron asked.

“Bread … with your honey.” He grinned wide with his guilt.

Acheron laughed. “That was wrong of you.”

Styxx indicated the small bag. “I thought you’d rather have the figs.”

“You could have given me the choice.”

“And I would have had my belly not been cramping. It smelled so good, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to eat some on my way here. Sorry.”

“Then I shall forgive you.” Acheron held the bread out. “Would you like more?”

He shook his head, declining it. Even though he was still hungry, he knew Acheron was even more so.

Frowning while he ate, Acheron cocked his head. “Can you not sleep again?”

“I tried.” Morpheus held a grudge against him for reasons only the gods knew. No matter how hard Styxx tried, sleep forever eluded him.

Acheron scooted back on his pallet, making more room.

Grateful beyond measure, Styxx accepted his unspoken invitation and lay down by Acheron’s side.

Within a few minutes, he was sound asleep. Acheron finished his food then tucked the bag into Styxx’s chiton. Licking the last of the sugar from his fingers, he curled up behind Styxx, back to back, and placed the bottoms of his feet flush to his brother’s. As far back as he could remember, they had slept like this whenever they could. Neither of them liked to be alone or apart, and yet their family seemed determined for them to be so. It was something neither of them understood.

How they both wished they could be left alone together.

And Styxx was the one he loved best.

His brother was the only one who treated him like he was normal. Styxx didn’t hate him like their parents did, nor dote on him like he was a god incarnate as Ryssa was prone to do.

They were brothers. They played. They laughed. And they fought for everything they were worth. But whenever the fighting was done, they would dust off and be friends again.

Always and forever.

Closing his eyes, Acheron heard the voices that were continually in his head. Styxx heard them, too. But while Acheron only heard those of the gods, Styxx heard those and many, many more. It was one of the reasons his brother had such difficulty sleeping. Whenever they were together, the voices in Styxx’s head stopped shouting at him and left him free to rest. Styxx could only hear Acheron’s thoughts then, and Acheron was very careful of them.

But the moment they were apart, the voices returned to Styxx with a vengeance. The constant lack of sleep made his twin irritable most days and gave him terrible headaches. Headaches so ferocious that at times his nose bled from them, and he was often sick to his stomach.

No one else understood that. They accused Styxx of faking the pain. And both of them were terrified of telling others what they heard. Everyone but Styxx hated him enough already. Acheron had no desire to give them another cause.

When Styxx had tried to tell others about the voices, he’d been ridiculed and punished for lying. Even Ryssa had accused him of making it up for attention. So both of them had learned to keep the secret and tell no one. Ever.

There were many secrets the two of them shared.

And they had promised each other that one day, when they were grown and no one could stop them, they would leave this place and go somewhere else where people didn’t treat them so badly.

Like his twin brother, Acheron couldn’t wait for that day to come.

May 9, 9542 BC

“Sit up straight! You slouch like a fishmonger’s son.”

Styxx flinched at his father’s angry tone and straightened himself immediately in his uncomfortable gold chair where his legs had gone numb from dangling over the edge of it. But if he folded them under him, it would anger his father even more than his slouching. While his father often doted on him, especially whenever they were in public, there were other times when his father would be so cross that nothing he did pleased him. Times when his father seemed to begrudge him every breath he took.