December 13, 9529 BC
Styxx sat on the throne beside his father, wanting to beat the man senseless. For the last two days his back had throbbed unmercifully and all because Acheron had dared walk Ryssa to Apollo's temple at her behest for her binding ceremony. She was always so concerned about her precious Acheron, and yet she continually put the fool in harm's way.
And she dared to call him selfish.
Stupid kuna. She was the one who didn't care about anyone except herself.
Grinding his teeth, Styxx grimaced as more pain cut through him and he wiped at the clammy sweat on his forehead. He was just about to piss his father off by asking to be excused when the doors opened, and guards dragged Acheron into the room with them.
Styxx bit back a curse as they forced Acheron to his knees in front of their father's throne.
What have you done now?
Got caught picking your nose?
"As per your instructions, he hasn't left his room, Sire," the guard on the left of Acheron said firmly. "We've made sure of it."
Acheron cast a murderous glare at Styxx as if he was to blame for his sudden appearance here.
Don't cut those silver eyes at me. Brother, I'd set you free in a heartbeat if I could.
The king curled his lip at Acheron. "You weren't in the square earlier, teritos?"
Styxx's jaw ticced at the insult that meant "slug."
To his brother's credit, Acheron gave his father a fearless, malevolent glare. It was a look he knew well as one he'd been known to give their father whenever he felt particularly suicidal.
No wonder Father backhands me.
It took everything he had not to applaud Acheron.
"Why would I have been in the square, Father?" Acheron asked boldly.
Styxx cringed at what he knew would follow such a comment. It was the same sentence he always received for his own verbal stupidity.
"Thirty-six lashes for his insolence then return him to his room."
Khalash! The king was nothing if not consistent.
Acheron closed his eyes as the guards grabbed him by the hair and hauled him through a set of double doors that opened out into a small courtyard.
Thanks, brother. Styxx almost gasped out loud as the first lash went down Acheron's back. More sweat beaded on his forehead and he forced himself to hold still and not react.
Think of Bethany. Think of ...
Another vicious lash tore through him.
Styxx gripped the arms of his throne until his knuckles protruded. His stomach heaved.
"Are you all right, Highness?"
He glared at the advisor who'd spoken. Damn you, Xoran, for noticing. He inclined his head to him. "It's a war wound acting up."
For once, his father actually looked concerned. "Do you need a moment?"
I need you to stop beating the hell out of my twin, you idiot.
Styxx's breathing came in short gasps as he struggled for composure. Last thing he needed was any more pain added to what he already had. "I would deeply appreciate one. But it's not necessary."