"What are you doing here?" the eldest maid snapped as soon as she saw him in the doorway. "I was told by Her Majesty that you were not allowed in this part of the palace. She has no desire to see you."
He disregarded her venom. "The queen is in her room and summons you."
She brushed rudely past him without a word. The others stared at him as if he were the filth that sullied their shoes. They were forever looking at him like that whenever he was without his father and he hated it. Most of all, he hated how it made him feel like he was the filth on their shoes.
Lifting his chin, he glared back at each one in turn. "I am your prince and heir. You are not to meet my gaze without my permission," he reminded them. "Or I should have you whipped for it." He slammed the door and turned to find Ryssa in the hall behind him.
She raked him with a look that made him feel even lower than the maids had. "You wretched little tyrant. You think you're so much better than everyone else. You're not, you know. You're just a spoiled little pig who's nothing without his father. I hope one day you get exactly what you deserve."
The sincerity of her gaze and cruelty of words shredded his heart. Why could she not, just once, say something kind to him? What had he ever done to her? Nothing, and he was tired of her insults. "Shut up, kuna! I hate you! I wish you were dead and burned!"
Ryssa grabbed his arm and shook him. "How dare you talk to me like that and use such a filthy word!"
"Styxx!"
He cringed at his father's furious tone. Knowing what would follow, he pried her harsh, bruising grip from his arm and walked past Ryssa to the top of the stairs so that he could see his father below, standing beside Estes.
Fabulous. Now his father would show off for his younger brother.
"Come here, boy!"
His heart pounding in fear he didn't dare let show, Styxx descended the stairs. "Yes, Father?"
"What have I told you about respecting your sister?"
She is the sole princess of this realm. As such, she is to be treasured above all....
It was so unfair. If he were Ryssa, he'd be able to whine and tell his father what had happened. But he knew from experience that it would only make this worse. Men did not complain, and most especially not kings. They took the repercussions for their actions and held their heads high no matter what.
Still, he wasn't king. Not yet. And he definitely wasn't a man. "She started it, Father."
He grabbed his arm in the same place Ryssa had twisted it, causing Styxx to grimace. "How dare you! You do not disrespect your father and you damn sure do not disrespect your king," he snarled. "Ever!"
His father yanked his arm and hauled him toward the guard room until they reached the Royal Scold's station. The scold came to his feet immediately and bowed low.
His father flung him at the tall, beefy man Styxx hated with every part of himself.
"Twenty lashes, and ten more if he whimpers or cries."
The scold nodded respectfully. "Am I to be given immunity, Majesty?"
"Aye, of course."
The scold turned his dark eyes to Styxx. "Your Highness?"
It galled him so that he was forced to grant immunity to the person who was about to cane him. But since it was death for anyone to strike a member of the royal family, it had to be done before the scold could carry out the king's orders against a prince. And if he didn't grant it, his father would only make it worse on him.
"Aye. I grant it," he whispered.
"When you're finished, take him to his room and see to it that he's kept there until morning with no comforts."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
His lips trembling from his pent-up tears, Styxx watched as his father left him alone with the giant mountain of a man. For lesser offenses, which he never seemed to commit, he had a whipping boy who would take his punishments for him. But for anything that was deemed a personal insult to his family, Styxx, unlike Ryssa, had to bear it all himself. The princess was never whipped for anything. She was too precious and dainty for such. Most of all, she wasn't being groomed for manhood and kingship.
And now that the scold was granted immunity by the two of them, he would take a great deal of pleasure in hurting him. He always did. Even if Styxx didn't cry or whimper, he would still receive the harshest punishment his father had called for. And all because the scold, like Ryssa, thought him to be a spoiled, undeserving brat who needed to be humbled.
You think you're so much better than the rest of us. You're not, dog. You're just a rich man's son. A drunken god-whore's whelp.