January 2, 9534 BC

"I have to admire your strength, little prince. While I find it appalling, I do have to respect it. Especially given everything you've suffered." The god brushed his hand against Styxx's neck.

Styxx quickly jerked away then grimaced in pain.

"In that regard," the god continued, "I think I should be insulted and highly offended that you'd rather be so abused than lie with me ... but you're young so I will forgive you.... For now."

Lying on the floor of his cell, Styxx didn't bother to look at the god who'd returned to torture him again. He was used to his visits. The Olympian came often to flog Styxx's spirit and will while the priests flogged his body.

"Am I really so repugnant to you?" Well aware that Styxx wouldn't answer, he shoved Styxx onto his back then ran his hands over the burns and scabs on Styxx's skin. "I could heal all of these."

"I won't be your whore. I won't be anyone's whore."

The god smiled. "Spoken like a true prince. But here's the thing. Sooner or later, everyone whores themselves for something. And I am tired of watching you be hurt."

Then stop it, you bastard!

"It's not that easy. You want out...."

Styxx shook his head, refusing to pay the price the god demanded.

The god growled at him then grabbed his jaw in a fierce grip. "All right. Fine. I know that one day, there will be something you are willing to whore yourself for, and then you will come to me on your knees. And you will receive me. In the meantime, before they do any more damage to your beauty, I will amend my terms. If you want to go home ... remove your clothes and lie here with your arms open and your knees parted. I will leave my clothes on, but you will cradle me like a lover while I feed from you."

Styxx cringed at the very thought of it. But given the other things he'd been put through these past months, that didn't seem so bad. Besides, the god would feed from him anyway. He knew that for a fact. The Olympian had tied the two of them together and there was nothing Styxx could do to stop it.

"I have your word you won't rape me," Styxx breathed through his hoarse throat.

"I swear on the River Styx that this one time, I will not rape you. But only so long as you hold me and let me feed until I'm full."

I can go home then?

"I will have you sent home on the morrow."

Styxx nodded in consent.

The god withdrew from him and watched as he slowly pulled his coarse stola off. Naked, Styxx lay back on the floor and did as the god had asked. Turning his head so that the god would have access to his neck, he closed his eyes and waited.

Apollo took a moment to savor this one small victory that he knew had cost the prince much of his pride. Honestly, he'd expected Styxx to refuse. "Remember the terms of our deal, human. Until I'm sated. If you fail to cradle me like a lover, I can have you any way I want."

Styxx nodded again.

The god approached him slowly. Styxx slammed his eyes shut, waiting for the familiar bite. Only this time, the god didn't use his jugular. Rather, he sank his fangs into the femoral artery in his thigh.

Styxx barely caught himself before he shoved the god away. Any breach of their agreement ...

It would be a lot more humiliating than this.

His jaw quivering, Styxx forced himself to sink his hand into the god's dark hair and cradle his body as if he enjoyed the god's touch. Bile rose in his throat. Biting his lip, he tried to focus on anything else to get him away from this moment of absolute horror.

Tears pricked at his eyes. The only good thing was that whenever the Olympian was around, the voices in his head stopped. He heard nothing. But right now, even that distraction would be welcome.

When the god finally finished, he crawled up his body then pressed himself against Styxx. Styxx had to force himself not to curl his lip or fight as he felt the god's erection on his blistered thigh through the cloth of the god's stola. He took Styxx's chin in his hand and forced him to meet his gaze. "One day, prince, I will have you fully."

"Will you at least give me your name now so that I know whom to avoid?"

The Olympian laughed. "When I'm deep inside you, prince, I will give you my name so that you know who honors you."

January 3, 9534 BC

"Welcome home, boy."

On the palace steps, Styxx inclined his head to his king as he drew his chlamys tighter around his body. Not because he was cold, but because he didn't want to be touched by anyone ever again. "Thank you for your magnanimous benevolence, Majesty."

He was lucky his father was too stupid to pick up on his sarcasm.

Swallowing the bitter hatred he felt for all of them, Styxx swept his gaze over the servants who'd gathered to receive him. Not that they had missed him or cared. Rather his sire had ordered them to be here. But the worst were their voices in his head.

He's as mad as his mother.

Why would they release him when it's obvious he's no better?

What a wasted life.

How can that ever be our king?

Styxx did his best to block their thoughts, but it was impossible. And the more he heard them, the more the hatred inside him built. How dare they look down their noses at him. He wasn't a pathetic waste. He couldn't help being born the way he was and he damn sure hadn't asked for it.

It took everything he had not to curse them. But the last thing he wanted was for his father to return him to the Dionysion for more treatment.

If he could learn to ignore the depravity and horrors he'd witnessed and suffered these last months then he could certainly ignore them.

"I see you've returned." Ryssa's frigid tone definitely didn't help his mood. You don't look as if you've suffered any. You look fine and healthy, except for that stupid bald head.

Ignoring her cruel, childish thoughts, Styxx met her cold gaze. She was beautiful, he'd give her that. But he pitied whatever man was stuck with such a heartless bitch in his bed.

"Come, Ryssa," their father said, smiling at her. "Embrace your brother."

The loathing in her eyes turned his stomach. I'd rather hug a snake. And grow your hair back. It doesn't make you look manly. You're sickening without it. And what's with that voice? Trying to sound more mature? Please ...

Styxx forced himself not to touch his head as her internal comments cut him to the bone. He couldn't help the damage done to his voice. Unlike his hair, that was a permanent reminder of the months he'd spent screaming in agony and begging for a mercy that never came.

"It's all right, Majesty," he said to his father. "I'd rather go to my room ... if I may?"

He scowled. "Of course."

Styxx lowered his head and didn't look up again until he was locked in a place where no one could harm him.

Even so, he didn't feel safe here. He'd never feel safe again. How could he? At any moment, his "patron" nameless god could find him and feed on or grope him.

All the priests had taught him was a brand new hell. In the past, he'd detested being alone. Now he despised being with people, too. And while the pain and voices continued to torment him, he now had frequent panic attacks that assaulted him whenever he let his guard down.

His unidentified god could be lurking in any shadow....

Worse, he'd learned that he was as disposable as Acheron. If he displeased his father in any way, he'd be sent back and left there. Then he'd have no choice except to turn to the Olympian who wanted to own him.

Styxx removed his chlamys then hissed as his palm began to burn for no reason whatsoever. It felt just like one of the hot irons they'd tortured him with. Shaking his hand, he tried to get it to stop, but it wouldn't.

Damn it, Acheron!

What in the name of Hades was he doing? Why couldn't his brother behave and not get hurt?

Styxx blew cool air across his palm as tears blinded him. Please don't do this to me again. I don't want to go back to that damn temple.

Next time, his father might never allow him to return home.

Cold fear gripped his heart. "I will be perfect. I swear." Whatever his father wanted him to be, he would be without argument. Yes, he hated them, but he hated that temple most of all.

Styxx froze as he caught sight of himself in the mirror on his dressing table. Ryssa was right. He was hideous.

He ran his hand over his scalp, where only the tiniest bit of hair was growing back. Turning away, he lifted the hem of his short chiton. Though mostly healed, the blisters and scars were even more appalling than his head. While he healed faster than humans, it didn't mean he wouldn't scar. In fact, his entire left side from his armpit to his thigh was a solid line of vicious scars. They went along nicely with the ones in his shoulder and chest where his mother had stabbed him.

"What difference does it make?"

Scarred or not, women would still clamor to bed him. Men would still cater to his ego.

And each would despise him as much as his sister and mother did, and their insults would ring in his ears. In all honesty, he had to give credit to his family. At least they didn't bother to hide their true feelings. They openly insulted him every chance they got. He could almost respect them for that.

Sick and angry over his fate, he reached for the wine on his desk and carried it to his bed where he intended to get drunk enough to drive every last bit of it from his mind. "I finally understand you, Mother."

August 16, 9534 BC

"Greetings, Uncle." Styxx gave a formal bow to Estes as he met him on the palace steps.

Estes arched a brow at his aloof formality. "No hug for your uncle, little squirrel?" What has happened to you, boy?

Refusing to react to his uncle's thoughts, Styxx glanced to his father before he quickly complied then stepped back out of Estes's reach. He still didn't like being touched by anyone.

"He's becoming quite the dignified man, isn't he?" his father asked, clapping Styxx on the shoulder.

It was all he could do not to cringe or grimace. Only his father would be stupid enough to mistake diffidence for dignity.

"Uncle!" Ryssa ran forward to hug and kiss him.

Grateful for her distraction, Styxx took three more steps away from them and folded his hands behind his back.

Estes glanced at him over Ryssa's shoulder while she chattered on about nonsense. Styxx averted his gaze. It was hard to get past the fact that the last time his uncle had seen him, he'd been lying broken and naked on a table and sobbing like a woman.

An event his father never hesitated to throw in his face. I should leave my crown to Ryssa. At least when she cries, it's understandable.

But more than that was Styxx's anger over Estes not helping him when he'd needed him most. For all his promises, his uncle had gone home to Acheron while Styxx had spent another four months on that table being bled and tortured. He was only now getting back to his full strength and filling out again.

I wish all of you were dead.

Styxx cleared his damaged throat, which still sounded as if he had a severe cold even when he didn't. He'd lost a full octave range courtesy of the priests. "Father? May I be excused? I'm to meet Master Galen for practice."

Ryssa curled her lip at him. "How thoughtless are you? You're going to practice with Uncle just arriving?"

His father held his hand up to silence her. "Your brother's quite right with his priorities, Ryssa. And I'm glad to see him showing some ambition for once." He inclined his head to Styxx. "You're excused."

Styxx gave them a curt bow before he headed down the drive, toward the gymnasium with his guards in tow. While he didn't enjoy battle practice as a rule, he would much rather have Galen knock him around for a bit than face the shame and horror he felt whenever he remembered begging his uncle not to abandon him to his tormentors.

And then watching as the bastard left him.

Twice.

It was the same atrocious feeling he had any time he was required to attend any temple celebration.

His aversion to the gods at this point should be legendary. And he despised the fact that he had to publicly worship the same gods who'd damned him to this existence. To the nameless one who'd preyed on him.

Meanwhile everyone told him how lucky and privileged he was to be born prince.

The stupid, blind bastards could have it all.

Rage darkened his gaze as he entered the small gymnasium that had been built for the royal family's private use. It was identical to the public gymnasium further in town except for the size. While the other nobles trained and were educated in the public gymnasium, this one was reserved for Styxx. Like everything else to do with him, he trained alone when most boys his age trained with friends.

Of course, it would help if he actually had some of those....

Galen met him at the entrance to his dressing room. "You're early, Highness."

Styxx hesitated. "If you have something else to do-"

"No, it's all good. You're welcome here any time, you know that."

Styxx inclined his head to him. "Am I to dress or undress?"

Most of their skill training was done in the nude, but actual battle training required him to wear his armor so that he could become accustomed to the extreme weight of it. And hopefully to build enough muscle that he could use it in battle.

"What does His Highness favor for the day?"

Blood.

"Armor."

"Then dress, my lord, and I shall meet you on the field."

Styxx stepped past him and went to where his armor was stored. As soon as he opened the upright chest, he paused at the sight of the cuirass he'd bought for himself a month ago to replace the one he'd outgrown to the point he could no longer lace it closed. When he'd foolishly asked his father for the money, the king had curled his lip in disdain.

The way you cower when you fight, you deserve nothing but my contempt and your old child's armor. When you prove yourself worthy of a man's armor, I'll replace it. Until then, do without.

But the bastard didn't know how he fought. He hadn't seen him train in years. So Styxx had pulled every bit of his savings to buy it, with Galen being kind enough to offer him a loan for the matching helm and greaves.

For an old grizzly war dog, Galen could be incredibly kind. He was the closest thing to a friend and father Styxx had ever known.

Suppressing a smile at his beautiful armor, Styxx ran his hand over it. Black as his soul, the cuirass was molded into the shape of a perfect muscled adult male chest. The hinges were gold leaves and the golden head of Athena rested in the center, just below his neck. On either side of her face were dragons facing each other. Two small gold circles rested over his nipples. And five gold dragon heads were studded into each leather strap of his pteruges.

It was the only thing of beauty he owned.

Maybe one day, I'll be worthy of it.

Pushing that thought aside, he removed his chiton and chlamys, and replaced them with the thick black wool chiton that padded his armor.

He tied on his pteruges before he lifted the heavy cuirass. Though most soldiers had shield-bearers to assist them, Styxx had been trained to dress without one. The thought being that in war, no one could be trusted at a king's back. It was too easy to bribe servants to sabotage equipment or to slip a knife into your ribs while he dressed you. Even bodyguards had been known to assassinate their charges. And given Styxx's past, there was no way in Hades he would ever allow someone that close who could harm him.

Not after his own mother had attempted to end his life.

Trying not to think about it, he reached for his greaves and laced them on then his vambraces. He took a moment to savor the heavy weight of the hammered bronze that covered his body. His armor was the closest thing to a mother's embrace he'd ever known. There was something extremely comforting about it.

A rare smile curled one corner of his lips as he remembered trying it on for the first time with Galen by his side.

"How does it feel, Highness?"

"Incredible. I feel invincible in it."

A slow, wry grin had spread across Galen's face. "Don't," he'd said with his usual curt sagacity.

If Styxx loved anyone in this world, it was Galen. While Galen was harsh at times, his trainer at least had some regard for him.

Styxx touched the stiff black and white horsehair plumage on his black helm. The same head of Athena that embellished his cuirass rested above his nose guard, and matching dragons ran down each side of the helmet.

He placed it over his head then reached for his plain sword and unpainted shield that quickly reminded him he wasn't really a soldier or a man.

Just an incompetent boy, playing at war and getting his ass kicked by an old, retired soldier.

In one heartbeat, every ounce of pride he'd temporarily gathered drained out of him. Time to get my brains bashed in.

Strangely, he was looking forward to it.

I am a masochistic bastard. Sighing, he headed out to the arena, where Galen was already dressed and waiting.

Galen saluted him as soon as he entered the field. Styxx returned the gesture.

"Ready, Highness?"

"Give me your best."

Galen laughed. "That's the spirit, young prince. I love when I hear the fight in your voice. It warms me." He lunged at him.

Styxx barely blocked his thrust and staggered back from the force of it. His whole arm stung and was numbed. Damn, for an old man, Galen had a surprising amount of strength.

Biting his lip, he rolled his shoulder, hoping to alleviate some of the misery.

Galen pulled up short to allow him time to recover. "Are you coming in injured, Highness?" His instructor's euphemism for asking if he'd been beaten for something. Because they often trained in the nude, Galen alone knew how harsh the king could be with his heir whenever Styxx displeased him.

Which he did a lot. Sometimes by doing nothing more than breathing in the same room.

"Nay, sir. Just clumsy. I'm still not used to the weight of the new armor. It's throwing off my center of balance."

"It makes a big difference, doesn't it?" Galen flipped his sword up, caught the blade of it then offered the hilt to Styxx.

He frowned.

"You need a man's sword to fight with and not that unbalanced toy you hold." Galen gently touched the pommel to Styxx's cuirass. "Go ahead, Highness. It's time."

Styxx threw his iron sword aside and took Galen's into his hand. While he tested the heft and made a few practice swings, Galen went to retrieve another one from his headquarters.

The old man was right. There was a huge difference in how this xiphos felt compared to the iron one Styxx had been using. Right down to the worn leather grip. He stared at the leaf-shaped, serrated edge blade that had probably taken dozens of lives in Galen's masterful hand. The words To the Glory of Pallas Athena were etched into the bronze, and the circle pommel held the same emblem of the goddess's head that Styxx's armor had.

"Is something the matter, Highness?"

Styxx looked up from the sword to Galen as he returned with a matching one. "What is it with you and Athena?"

"Every man chooses a god to invoke in battle. Ares, Apollo, Deimos, Phobos, Zeus, Nike, Poseidon ... For me, it will always be the Pallas Athena." Galen glanced down to his own pommel where her face stared up at him. "Anyone can battle for pride, power, vanity, greed, or hate, but war should always be approached with an equal measure of wisdom and strength. It's not just enough to know when to fight, but to know when to lay down the sword and negotiate. Not everything in the world is worth fighting for."

Styxx considered that for a moment. "Is anything worth fighting for, Master Galen?"

"Of course."

For his life, he couldn't think of a single thing he'd shed his blood to protect. "What?"

"Love and family."

Styxx bit back a snort. He knew nothing of love and what he knew of family he could do without. "Not country?"

"Countries come and they go, good prince. They're only worth preserving when the loss of them would cause harm to the people you cherish."

So as Styxx had said, there was nothing to fight for. But he was curious about one thing....

"Who do you fight for, Galen?"

"At one time, I fought for my beautiful and gentle wife, who left this world at far too young an age." He winced as if someone had struck him. "Even after all these years, I feel her absence as a physical pain, and hope that you will one day find a woman so fine and decent ... One whose face fills your heart with pride and love." He offered Styxx a gruff smile. "These days, I would fight for my daughter and grandchildren. And I will always fight for you, Highness."

Those words warmed him. Since Galen seldom said anything tender, or even kind, Styxx knew he meant them.

Galen lifted his sword. "Now, shall we get on with this lesson or continue to chat like old women?"

Styxx raised his shield. "By all means, let my ass-beating commence."

Laughing, Galen swung at his head. Styxx jerked back and countered with a down stroke of his sword, followed by an attack with his shield. Galen blocked his attack then advanced with a barrage of blows that were hard to deflect. That was the one thing about Galen, he taught Styxx to use every part of his body as a weapon, and to hold nothing back. In war, all that mattered was surviving it ... preferably with all body parts attached.

But as they fought, something inside Styxx burst. A flood of ...

Strength? Power?

He wasn't sure what it was. But an inner door opened and with it came an ability to know the exact move Galen would make right before he did it. Styxx had sometimes been able to do that in other situations, yet never in battle.

Today, that changed.

All of a sudden, Styxx could deflect or block every thrust and stroke. For the first time ever, Galen was forced to back up from his attacks and to protect himself.

Styxx's vision turned dark until he no longer saw Galen as a man, but rather a target to be destroyed. He lost all sense of where he was or why he trained. Or even the fact that he trained at all. Instead, he rained blow after blow with both hoplon and xiphos across Galen's shield until he broke through the thick wood lining and bent the bronze out of shape.

With no choice, panting and weakened, Galen threw the useless hoplon aside then buried the tip of his sword into the ground before kneeling in front of Styxx. "I yield, fair prince!"

Applause rang out.

Lowering his sword, Styxx frowned until he located the source of it. Estes and his father stood just off the main gate. His uncle opened it and came inside with his father trailing two steps behind him.

"Impressive, little squirrel." Estes paused to retrieve a fresh hoplon from the wall bank of them. "But let's see how you fare against a warrior in his prime and not an old man."

He took the xiphos from where Galen had planted it then used it to salute Styxx.

A slow, evil smile curved his lips. "Are you sure, Uncle? I'd hate to injure you on the day of your arrival. Perhaps you should rest first?"

Estes laughed. "Arrogant ... I love it. But prepare to see your ego debased."

That would be different than normal, how?

Styxx returned his salute, and waited for his uncle to make the first move.

He did. The sound of metal clashing echoed off the stone walls surrounding them. This time, not only did Styxx see the moves before his uncle made them, he gained strength with every blow. It was like he was siphoning off Estes's life force. As his uncle grew weaker, he became stronger. In a matter of minutes, he had his uncle disarmed and flat on his back with the tip of his xiphos pressed against Estes's throat.

His breathing ragged, Estes held his hands up in surrender. "I yield, good Styxx."

Styxx buried his sword into the ground and removed his helm and placed it on the hilt. He extended his arm to his uncle to help him to his feet.

Estes was incredulous. "By the gods, you're not even breathing hard. Oh to be so young again...." He looked over at Galen. "My highest regards to you, Master Hoplomachos. You've done an amazing job with my nephew's skill. It's been an incredibly long time since anyone disarmed me, never mind knocked me to the ground." Then he glanced to the king. "Brother, if we'd had Styxx on our side in the war, we'd have never had to enter talks with Atlantis. We'd have buried her."

His father finally closed his gaping jaw. "I had no idea he was so skilled. The boy has hid it well." He turned to look at Styxx. "No wonder you sought new armor."

And you denied it to me with mocking disdain....

Asshole.

But there was no trace of that now. His father actually appeared almost proud.

The king jerked his chin at Styxx's shield. "It's time we decorated that aspis of yours, boy, and forged you a warrior's xiphos and kopis. You're finally ready to defend my throne."

Those words should make him happy. Instead, Styxx felt only emptiness. There was no pride or satisfaction inside his heart. In truth, he didn't want his father's praise anymore. It no longer mattered to him what the bastard thought. Not when he knew how his father really felt where he was concerned.

Unless he was perfect, he was garbage to be thrown aside and ridiculed.

Or worse, forgotten.

All the months he'd been gone for torture, his father hadn't even missed him. For that matter, his father had barely looked at him or talked to him since his return. The only reason the king was here now was because Estes had wanted to see him train.

Why bother wasting our time...? The boy fights like a methusai. I'd rather watch the grass growing in the yard.

His father narrowed his gaze on his hoplomachos. "Galen, fetch a scribe and have him design a royal emblem for my son. Something worthy of a princely champion. An eagle or a lion, perhaps."

Estes shook his head. "I'm thinking a pegasus or trident."

"A phoenix," Styxx said. There was nothing more fitting for him. Forged by the flames of Hades's Pyriphlegethon River, he emerged. And like a phoenix, he wouldn't really exist until his father was good and dead.

The king inclined his head to him. "You heard my son, Galen. Phoenix it is."

"I shall see it done, Majesty, and deliver his new hoplon within a month."

While Galen and his father walked away to discuss the matter, Estes came forward.

"Your father's right, Styxx. You are becoming quite a fine young man."

Styxx didn't comment as he retrieved his helm and sword. "How does my brother in your custody, Uncle?"

A strange tremor went through Estes that Styxx couldn't define. And even though he tried, he couldn't discern his uncle's thoughts on the matter.

"He's very well. Happy. Healthy. Looks just like you."

"Except for his eyes," Styxx reminded him.

"Except for his eyes."

And the brand scars....

Trying not to think about that, Styxx returned his hoplon to the wall then entered Galen's headquarters with Estes one step behind him. "Does Acheron ever ask after me?"

"He does. Often. One day, I should like to have the two of you together. I think we'd all enjoy that greatly." There was something even odder in his tone. Something that sent a shiver down Styxx's spine.

Still, he couldn't hear one single thought from his uncle. How was that possible?

Disturbed by the anomaly, Styxx placed Galen's xiphos on the rack where his trainer normally kept it.

"So tell me, young Styxx. Has any woman caught your attention or heart yet?"

It was all he could do to not curl his lip in revulsion of that question. Between his mother and Ryssa's hateful lunacy and the faithless, mercurial women who threw themselves at him constantly, tying one to him was the last thing on his mind. "No."

"No?" Estes was aghast as if he couldn't fathom such. "How can you be so young and handsome, and not in love?"

It might help if he wasn't a complete stranger to that emotion. "I find women tedious and demanding. Boring and unappetizing. I've no interest in them."

Estes arched a brow at that. "You prefer the bed of men, then?"

This time, he did screw his face up in disgust as memories assailed him. "Gods, no. Hardly. I find the bed of neither one appealing."

His uncle gaped then choked. "Virgin still? At your age? Inconceivable. Both your father and I had bastards aplenty by the time we were ten-and-five. And your brother has long since found the pleasures to be had in the arms of others. I can't even begin to count the lovers Acheron has had."

"I guess I'm not the man my brother is." Of course it helped to not spend the better part of a year being tortured for demons you didn't have.

After that ...

He had no desire to be touched by anyone, for any reason.

Styxx left Galen's headquarters and walked toward the dressing room.

Estes followed after him. "Hey now, I didn't mean to offend you with my shock. I spoke out of turn."

Yes, you did, asshole. Why else mention it?

Still angry at the insults, Styxx said nothing as he unlaced his cuirass. Estes helped him remove it. While his uncle took it to the mannequin, Styxx removed his black chiton and reached for his white one.

As his uncle turned back toward him, Estes sucked his breath in sharply at the ugly sight of the numerous scars on Styxx's body. Reaching out, his uncle laid his hand over the ones marring Styxx's left rib cage. "I'm so sorry for what happened to you."

His fury mounting at the useless sympathy, Styxx stepped away from his uncle so that he could unlace his greaves.

"Styxx..."

"Please, Uncle. I've no wish to talk about it. What's done is done."

And you said it yourself at the time. I've never been the same. The whole experience, combined with his mother's unwarranted and brutal attack, had robbed him of any sense of security or value.

At best he felt like an unwelcomed intruder with his family, at worst, a despised bastard stepchild. He just wanted to be away from them all.

Estes grimaced as he saw the additional scars that lined his back and groin. "Is that why you haven't taken a lover?"

In part, but not for the reasons Estes was thinking. He wasn't ready to answer questions about those scars and why a prince who'd never been to battle would carry such. "All of my equipment is fine and in proper working order. That has nothing to do with my decision. The priests took great precaution to ensure they didn't leave me impotent or sterile." His tone was as frigid as the anger in his heart over it.

And Estes finally realized how volatile this subject was with him. "All right. It's none of my business. But I am here for you, Styxx. If you need me."

No, you're not. You're a chicken-shit bastard. And that was the problem he had with his uncle. Like everyone else, Estes lied to his face. His brave, noble uncle whose heroic deeds had been told and retold by historians, poets and scribes had been too scared of his father to bring him home against his father's wishes and save him from his torment. Instead, the war hero had tucked his tail between his legs and walked out and left a child to suffer. How could he ever forgive that?

Styxx's gaze went to the five-inch scar on his forearm his father had given him, and the pain of the past racked him hard. He was so tired of it all. The lies, the duality. The hatred.

Failed expectations on everyone's part.

He moved to wash himself. "If you don't mind, Uncle, I should like to be alone for awhile."

"I thought you hated isolation."

That was before he'd been forced into it and had learned to make a bitter peace with the voices that shouted and whispered in his head. "People change."

"So they do." Estes clapped him on the back. "I shall leave you to your own company. But know that I do love you, nephew."

If love meant abandoning someone when they were helpless and being victimized, then he could do without it. But what did he know of Aphrodite's charms?

That bitch hated him like everyone else.

A tic worked in his jaw as he glanced to his helm and the image of Athena that mocked him, too. He should pry that badge off and replace it with Eris or Odia. They were the only residents on Olympus he could relate to.

Styxx toweled himself off and dressed then swirled his chlamys around his shoulders. He made a hood to shield his face. The last thing he wanted was to go home where his father would make more demands of him. Ryssa would revile him with her rancid tongue, and some random whore would grab his cock and try to pull him inside her.

I just want five minutes of peace....

There was a new play in town. If he hurried, he wouldn't miss more than a few lines. At least there he could forget this world for a short time and live in another. And so long as he sat in the common seats, no one would bother him. He could be just like everyone else....

At least for a little while.

Lifting his hand, he held the cowl in place as he all but ran to the paltry haven he had.

* * *

"Estes?"

His brother looked up from the scroll he was reading at Xerxes's desk across the room. "Yes?"

Folding his arms over his chest, Xerxes leaned against the wall behind him. "What do you honestly think of Styxx?"

Estes gave him an arch stare. "How so?"

Xerxes hesitated and debated with a matter that plagued him constantly. One he didn't dare breathe a word of to anyone other than his brother. While he might doubt Styxx's paternity in private, the boy was the only heir he had. Publicly, he must always act as if there was no question about his loyalty to Prince Styxx. If Styxx didn't inherit, civil war would tear his kingdom apart and there was no one else strong enough to put it back together.

And while Estes would be strong enough to hold it in his lifetime, he would never father an heir. Which would ultimately destroy the proud House of Aricles.

Xerxes could never allow that.

Didymos had to have a strong, uncontested king on her throne. Even if it meant putting a man there he hadn't fathered.

"Does he seem ... odd?"

Estes leaned back in his wooden chair and thought about the question. "He's at that awkward point where he's neither boy nor man, but a combination of the two, brother. His body is changing and growing faster than he can keep up with and he's being assailed with potent desires he's never known. He's also facing the reality that one day, after you're gone, he will rule and be responsible for the largest Greek city-state and her army and people. Honestly? We were all odd at his age. You more so than I."

Xerxes laughed. "No one was odder than you, brother." But Estes was right. At Styxx's age, Xerxes was terrified every day of losing his father and being saddled with a throne he wasn't ready to ascend. He'd been so nervous about it that he'd driven his father to madness with his constant concern for his health.

And he'd barely been ten-and-seven when his father had succumbed to a sudden illness.

Yet he didn't sense that from Styxx. The prince was extremely distant and withdrawn from him and everyone else. At times, he even feared the boy might make an attempt on his life.

Xerxes sighed. "Perhaps. But he doesn't really favor us, does he?"

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