"Will you at least give me your name now so that I know whom to avoid?"
The Olympian laughed. "When I'm deep inside you, prince, I will give you my name so that you know who honors you."
January 3, 9534 BC
"Welcome home, boy."
On the palace steps, Styxx inclined his head to his king as he drew his chlamys tighter around his body. Not because he was cold, but because he didn't want to be touched by anyone ever again. "Thank you for your magnanimous benevolence, Majesty."
He was lucky his father was too stupid to pick up on his sarcasm.
Swallowing the bitter hatred he felt for all of them, Styxx swept his gaze over the servants who'd gathered to receive him. Not that they had missed him or cared. Rather his sire had ordered them to be here. But the worst were their voices in his head.
He's as mad as his mother.
Why would they release him when it's obvious he's no better?
What a wasted life.
How can that ever be our king?
Styxx did his best to block their thoughts, but it was impossible. And the more he heard them, the more the hatred inside him built. How dare they look down their noses at him. He wasn't a pathetic waste. He couldn't help being born the way he was and he damn sure hadn't asked for it.
It took everything he had not to curse them. But the last thing he wanted was for his father to return him to the Dionysion for more treatment.
If he could learn to ignore the depravity and horrors he'd witnessed and suffered these last months then he could certainly ignore them.
"I see you've returned." Ryssa's frigid tone definitely didn't help his mood. You don't look as if you've suffered any. You look fine and healthy, except for that stupid bald head.
Ignoring her cruel, childish thoughts, Styxx met her cold gaze. She was beautiful, he'd give her that. But he pitied whatever man was stuck with such a heartless bitch in his bed.
"Come, Ryssa," their father said, smiling at her. "Embrace your brother."
The loathing in her eyes turned his stomach. I'd rather hug a snake. And grow your hair back. It doesn't make you look manly. You're sickening without it. And what's with that voice? Trying to sound more mature? Please ...
Styxx forced himself not to touch his head as her internal comments cut him to the bone. He couldn't help the damage done to his voice. Unlike his hair, that was a permanent reminder of the months he'd spent screaming in agony and begging for a mercy that never came.
"It's all right, Majesty," he said to his father. "I'd rather go to my room ... if I may?"
He scowled. "Of course."
Styxx lowered his head and didn't look up again until he was locked in a place where no one could harm him.
Even so, he didn't feel safe here. He'd never feel safe again. How could he? At any moment, his "patron" nameless god could find him and feed on or grope him.
All the priests had taught him was a brand new hell. In the past, he'd detested being alone. Now he despised being with people, too. And while the pain and voices continued to torment him, he now had frequent panic attacks that assaulted him whenever he let his guard down.
His unidentified god could be lurking in any shadow....
Worse, he'd learned that he was as disposable as Acheron. If he displeased his father in any way, he'd be sent back and left there. Then he'd have no choice except to turn to the Olympian who wanted to own him.
Styxx removed his chlamys then hissed as his palm began to burn for no reason whatsoever. It felt just like one of the hot irons they'd tortured him with. Shaking his hand, he tried to get it to stop, but it wouldn't.
Damn it, Acheron!
What in the name of Hades was he doing? Why couldn't his brother behave and not get hurt?
Styxx blew cool air across his palm as tears blinded him. Please don't do this to me again. I don't want to go back to that damn temple.