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 Omada Stygian. 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.

“I lived only for the chance that I could come back and hold you again.”

Her 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 ten-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 masochistic.”

“I am indeed.” Sighing, he laid his head down on his arm, next to her head, then moved her hand to his cheek so that she could feel the expressions on his face. “What pains me most is that after all these 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 chin. This alone had been worth coming back for.

But even as that thought made him smile, 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 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 aren’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 sister? 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.”

Today was the first time he’d been strong enough to leave his bed unassisted. And he’d come straight to see his brother.

Styxx cursed silently as he entered the room. Under their father’s “tender” orders, Acheron was tied spread eagle to Ryssa’s bed. He looked every bit as wan and weak as Styxx felt.

Breathing slow and easy so as not to pass out, Styxx made his way slowly across the floor until he stood next to his brother’s side.

Acheron cut a sullen glance to him, but said nothing.

Styxx couldn’t blame him. Words failed him, too. What did brothers say to each other after all that had happened to divide them? After all the nightmares they’d experienced together and apart?

But the one thing that struck him was how unscarred Acheron’s skin was. Except for the slave brand on his palm, his body, unlike Styxx’s, was pristine. There was no trace of the abuse he knew his brother had been through. Nor a single battle scar...

Acheron’s swirling silver gaze burned into him. “I hate you, you fucking brat.”

“I know,” Styxx breathed, glancing away.

“Why didn’t you let me die?”

Styxx laughed bitterly at his accusation. “I tried. Believe me, I did nothing to save either of us.”

“Liar!”

It’s not fair that you get to live in comfort while I live in hell! Why you? What makes you better than me? A pair of fucking eyes I want to rip out. Acheron’s angry thoughts flogged his conscience and his heart.

“My life hasn’t been easy, either, you know.”

“Oh forgive me, Highness. Did the cook burn your toast this morning? Or was your bath water too cold? Did your valet forget to leave out the right garment?”
Styxx stiffened as his own hatred ignited while his brother trivialized his life and what he thought Styxx’s problems were. Acheron was just like everyone else. Making assumptions based on nothing but stupidity.

“How dare you mock my pain. But for you, my father-“ Styxx caught himself right before he admitted a truth that cut him to the depth of his soul.

“Your father what?”

Would have loved me.

Instead, because of Acheron, the king had always been suspicious and cold. Never quite certain Styxx was his. While their father doted entirely on Ryssa, there had always been a hint of reservation in his eyes when he looked at Styxx.

And always reservation in his heart whenever they were alone.

“You’re the one who betrayed us, Acheron. Not me.”

“And I think I’ve paid well for it. After all, I’m the one tied naked to a bed and you’re the one wrapped in a gold trimmed chlamys! You’re the one everyone bows before and seeks to please your every whim.”

Yes, that was so his life...

Never.

Styxx shook his head. No, they’d both paid for it. Dearly. But Acheron would never believe the truth, anymore than Ryssa did and Ryssa had borne witness to some of it. Still, she had it in her mind that he was the one their father favored.

People make their own reality. That was what Praxis had taught him years ago. A hundred people can witness the same exact event and give two hundred and three different accountings of it. Everything is filtered through our emotions, Young Prince. As king, your job will be to listen to both sides of every matter and try to find the truth that lies somewhere between the opposing accounts.

Styxx had seen the veracity of that time and again as he sat with his father and listened to testimony from the nobles and citizens as they brought trial against each other. The subtlest gesture that was misread...

Tone of voice.

All of it could lead to war.

Even between brothers.

No, especially between brothers.

Styxx paused inside the courtyard doorway as he caught sight of Apollymi sitting on a stone bench that overlooked a dark fountain. So this was the bitch who had forever changed and ruined his life...

And all to save the life of her own son.

He should probably hate her for that alone, but given the fact that he’d have sold his soul to have a mother who would just acknowledge his existence, how could he? In spite of what Acheron thought, Apollymi’s love for Acheron was the only thing Styxx had ever coveted.

That and Ryssa’s.

Styxx swallowed hard as that old wound ripped open and flooded him with pain. He’d done everything he could to make his sister love him, but her unwarranted jealousy and love of Acheron had kept her from seeing him as anything other than worthless, spoiled and selfish. While he’d done his absolute best to protect and shield Acheron, Ryssa had ruthlessly blamed him for things he had no control over.

For things he hadn’t done.

But he wouldn’t think about that. The past was ancient history. Literally.

This was the present and once again, Acheron needed him. Taking a deep breath, Styxx studied the goddess who despised him even more than his own mother and sister had.

Her pale blond hair was a stark contrast to her black gown, both of which flowed around her perfect body. Ironically, the Atlantean goddess of ultimate pain and destruction had to be the most beautiful woman who had ever lived.

The splashing water made a soothing sound in spite of the fact that they were both currently in hell. Her isolation struck him hard as the memory of his own slammed into him and reawakened a horror he did his best every waking minute to forever bury. There was nothing worse than to exist in a tight hole where the only company you had was the sight of your own face in a cold reflection that showed you just how much you hated yourself.

But unlike him, Apollymi didn’t sit alone in her prison.

His gaze went to the two Charontes who stood on opposite sides of her. While they didn’t speak, they were at least another life form nearby. Not to mention, she had an entire Daimon army to serve her and keep her company.

He winced as he remembered all the centuries he’d screamed out for someone, anyone, to have mercy on him and just speak so that he could hear them. They didn’t even have to talk to him. Just speak.

Eleven thousand years was hard to live through.

Eleven thousand years of utter solitude...

“So you’re not a coward, after all.”

He narrowed his gaze on Apollymi as his hatred rose to swallow every last remnant of his pain. “I’ve been many things in my life, but never a coward.”

She rose with the same slow, graceful movements he was now trying to learn from Acheron. As she turned to face him, her eyes flashed from swirling silver to a deep, vibrant red- another thing she shared with her son. “You don’t fool me, dog. I see you for what you really are.”

Styxx caught his bitter laughter out of habit. As a human, that kind of response would have caused his father to knock him through a wall. But then Apollymi couldn’t kill him.

Only Acheron could.

“I find that hard to believe, my lady.” Not once in his entire existence had anyone ever seen the truth in him. And that was okay. He’d long ago grown used to being misjudged and despised.

Before he could blink, she vanished, then reappeared right beside him. She sank her hand deep into his short blond hair and wrenched it hard. “But for my son, I’d have your heart in my fist right now.”

He didn’t flinch or react to the pain at all. “But for my brother, I’d gut you where you stand.”

She laughed at his threat, then tightened the grip in his hair. “You are nothing but a second rate copy of my Apostolos. A mere shadow of the man he has become. No one will ever mistake you for him. How could they?”

Strange to hear his own doubtful litany coming out of someone else's mouth. She might as well be his father, telling him how he’d never be good enough to rule. How he should have been drowned the moment he was born.

When he didn’t respond, she hissed at him, baring her fangs. “I hate you.”

Styxx smirked. “The feeling is entirely mutual.”

She yanked his hair so hard, he was amazed she didn’t draw out a fist full of bloody strands. Her eyes flashing again, she jerked him against her and sank her fangs into his neck.

He gasped at the raw, unrelenting pain of her bite. A pain she took pleasure in giving him. For the love of the gods, please rip out my throat. Maybe then, for a few minutes at least, he might actually be at peace.

But as she drank from him, her hold started to gentle and the pain lessened. Within a few seconds, it almost felt like a mother’s embrace. Not that he remembered the sensation of being hugged. In fact, he could count on one hand how many times in his entire existence he’d been held by anyone.

And none of those had ever come from his own mother.

Apollymi pulled back to look up at him with a stern frown. His blood stained her lips. To his complete shock, she brushed a tender hand over the wound she’d left in his neck. “I had no idea,” she said in a tight voice.

Styxx shrugged her arms away. He didn’t want or need anyone’s kindness or pity, and especially not hers. “Yeah well, we all have shit to deal with, don’t we?”

She reached out to him, but he stepped back. He wasn’t a boy anymore begging for a modicum of kindness from someone. He’d learned as a toddler that he was alone in this world. And honestly, he preferred it that way.

“Is it done?” he asked.

Apollymi gave a subtle nod.

Good. Now he could move into his next prison and be done with it. He wiped the blood off his neck and turned to leave.

“Styxx?”

He paused, but didn’t speak.

“Thank you for doing this for Apostolos,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “And for what’s worth, I am so sorry for what happened to you.”

Sorry... That one word caused his lip to curl.

This time he gave free reign to his disdainful snort. “Everyone’s sorry for something.” He pinned her with a heated glare. “And there are some things, my lady, that sorry doesn’t fix.”