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.