Unaware he'd reopened a wound, his father didn't know Styxx wasn't with him until he reached the doors. He turned back with a deep scowl.
His breathing labored, Styxx forced himself to continue onward. Sweat broke out on his forehead as his gaze dimmed and he feared he'd pass out on the stairs.
His father ran his gaze over the dispersing army. "Your returning numbers aren't as great as I'd hoped."
Styxx cut a glower at his father, but said nothing as he entered the palace. "Where's Mother?"
"I exiled her, and she killed herself last spring."
Gaping at the emotionless disclosure, Styxx turned to his father. "And you didn't send word to me?"
"To what purpose? She was dead. There was nothing you could do."
He didn't know why, but grief racked him hard. Harder than he would have thought possible given their tumultuous relationship. Still, Aara had been his mother, and it saddened him that she was gone. He met Ryssa's aloof stare, but he knew that was a front. She and their mother had been close and the death had to sting her deeply.
"My deepest condolences, Ryssa."
"Don't spit on her memory with your insincerity. It's not becoming of the great war hero who got half his army slaughtered on his return."
"Ryssa!"
She blinked innocently at their father. "What? Your own advisors are the ones who've been calling him incompetent and saying that you should never have trusted your army to him."
And his men had actually feared his father would whip them for allowing him to be attacked....
Styxx let out a bitter laugh. "It warms the cockles of my heart to be cradled against the loving bosom of my adoring family. Thank the gods I survived to return to such affection." He headed for the stairs.
"Where are you going?" his father snapped. "I have a welcome party full of noblemen for you in the banquet hall."
Styxx glanced to where he'd been standing a second ago. His blood had made a small red puddle on the floor, marking the spot. He wiped at the sweat on his brow as his vision dimmed more. "Please forgive me for my insult to you and to them, Majesty. But I would rather bleed alone and not listen to how I failed Didymos and disappointed my king when I was the only Greek commander who won any fucking battles against the Atlanteans whatsoever ... and I did it on their home soil without Greek resources or reinforcements for battle."
Ryssa gasped. "If I spoke to you like that, Father, you'd have me whipped."
Styxx laughed bitterly as he continued up the stairs, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in his wake. "Please, sweet sister, name me one time in your entire spoiled bitch life that anyone laid a hand to you?"
"You have!"
"Years and years ago, when I was half your size. And I paid for it dearly." He turned at the top of the stairs to face them. "Now excuse me, beloved family, but I need to lie down before I pass out, and mourn a mother whose contempt of me is only surpassed by her bitch daughter's."
What has happened to you, boy?
He snorted derisively at his father's shocked thought. How pathetic that his father didn't know and didn't really care to learn.
Aching inside and out, Styxx went to his room and pulled a pillow from the bed. He'd been sleeping on the ground for so long that he wasn't sure what a bed would feel like anymore.
Without bothering to remove his armor, he sank to the floor and stretched out to rest.
Ah, beautiful home. How much he loathed it.
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 Stygian Omada. 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?"