Estes followed after him. "Hey now, I didn't mean to offend you with my shock. I spoke out of turn."
Yes, you did, asshole. Why else mention it?
Still angry at the insults, Styxx said nothing as he unlaced his cuirass. Estes helped him remove it. While his uncle took it to the mannequin, Styxx removed his black chiton and reached for his white one.
As his uncle turned back toward him, Estes sucked his breath in sharply at the ugly sight of the numerous scars on Styxx's body. Reaching out, his uncle laid his hand over the ones marring Styxx's left rib cage. "I'm so sorry for what happened to you."
His fury mounting at the useless sympathy, Styxx stepped away from his uncle so that he could unlace his greaves.
"Styxx..."
"Please, Uncle. I've no wish to talk about it. What's done is done."
And you said it yourself at the time. I've never been the same. The whole experience, combined with his mother's unwarranted and brutal attack, had robbed him of any sense of security or value.
At best he felt like an unwelcomed intruder with his family, at worst, a despised bastard stepchild. He just wanted to be away from them all.
Estes grimaced as he saw the additional scars that lined his back and groin. "Is that why you haven't taken a lover?"
In part, but not for the reasons Estes was thinking. He wasn't ready to answer questions about those scars and why a prince who'd never been to battle would carry such. "All of my equipment is fine and in proper working order. That has nothing to do with my decision. The priests took great precaution to ensure they didn't leave me impotent or sterile." His tone was as frigid as the anger in his heart over it.
And Estes finally realized how volatile this subject was with him. "All right. It's none of my business. But I am here for you, Styxx. If you need me."
No, you're not. You're a chicken-shit bastard. And that was the problem he had with his uncle. Like everyone else, Estes lied to his face. His brave, noble uncle whose heroic deeds had been told and retold by historians, poets and scribes had been too scared of his father to bring him home against his father's wishes and save him from his torment. Instead, the war hero had tucked his tail between his legs and walked out and left a child to suffer. How could he ever forgive that?
Styxx's gaze went to the five-inch scar on his forearm his father had given him, and the pain of the past racked him hard. He was so tired of it all. The lies, the duality. The hatred.
Failed expectations on everyone's part.
He moved to wash himself. "If you don't mind, Uncle, I should like to be alone for awhile."
"I thought you hated isolation."
That was before he'd been forced into it and had learned to make a bitter peace with the voices that shouted and whispered in his head. "People change."
"So they do." Estes clapped him on the back. "I shall leave you to your own company. But know that I do love you, nephew."
If love meant abandoning someone when they were helpless and being victimized, then he could do without it. But what did he know of Aphrodite's charms?
That bitch hated him like everyone else.
A tic worked in his jaw as he glanced to his helm and the image of Athena that mocked him, too. He should pry that badge off and replace it with Eris or Odia. They were the only residents on Olympus he could relate to.
Styxx toweled himself off and dressed then swirled his chlamys around his shoulders. He made a hood to shield his face. The last thing he wanted was to go home where his father would make more demands of him. Ryssa would revile him with her rancid tongue, and some random whore would grab his cock and try to pull him inside her.
I just want five minutes of peace....
There was a new play in town. If he hurried, he wouldn't miss more than a few lines. At least there he could forget this world for a short time and live in another. And so long as he sat in the common seats, no one would bother him. He could be just like everyone else....
At least for a little while.
Lifting his hand, he held the cowl in place as he all but ran to the paltry haven he had.
* * *
"Estes?"
His brother looked up from the scroll he was reading at Xerxes's desk across the room. "Yes?"