The humor fled his uncle's face at that threat. Seizing Styxx's arms in a brutal grip, he glared at him with fury. "And who do you think Xerxes will believe? His beloved younger brother who has stood at his back and protected his secrets, or the son of a drunken, demented whore who's already been treated for mental instability? You breathe one word of this to him and I'll not only ensure you never inherit the throne, I'll make you a permanent Dionysion resident. And once your father abandons you there, I'll bribe the priests and take you to Atlantis where you can join your brother as a high-priced piece of ass I rent out to anyone with enough coin."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Try me." Estes ran his tongue down Styxx's throat then laughed. "Fucking you, little squirrel, almost makes being away from Acheron tolerable. Now be a good boy and wash yourself or I shall do it for you." He dropped his hand to illustrate his offer.
Styxx vomited again.
Estes shoved him away. "Clean yourself and be quick about it or I'll give Nestor his additional day with you."
Abashed and shaken, Styxx sank down in the water, wishing himself dead. He felt so unclean. So filthy and fouled. And as he washed himself, he remembered their hands on him as they violated every part of his body.
In that moment a deep-seated rage seized him and he wanted to lash out and kill them all. Why had his powers failed to warn him when he needed them most? Why?
Because there had been too many of them with Estes. Their thoughts had trampled over each other's and the gods' and his own to the point he hadn't been able to discern any of them singularly. It was part of what gave him such bad headaches.
"Damn you!" he screamed. But the words were directed more at himself than anyone else.
Why did I ever trust Estes?
He knew better. No one could ever be trusted. How could he have forgotten that one vital lesson?
Because Estes had shown him kindness when no one else had. He was family and family wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to love each other. Protect each other.
Says who?
Styxx laughed bitterly at his thought. That was the truth. Ryssa would be thrilled beyond measure to see him used like this and reduced to the level of a common whore.
I hope you get what you deserve. How many times had she said that to him? Someone needs to take you down a notch.
Estes had taken him down a lot more than that.
Tears filled his eyes and spilled over his cheeks. He didn't feel like this was his just deserts, but maybe it was. He'd ruined his mother. And if he was the real godspawn and Acheron wasn't, he'd ruined his innocent brother, too.
Out of everything Styxx had screwed up in his life, that was the one real regret he had. He should have spoken up and told his father the truth. That he had the god powers while Acheron only had divine eyes. Then they would have been hated equally.
Together.
What do I do now?
I just want to go home.
It was wretched there, but it was the only place he had. You should run away and leave it all behind.
And do what? He had no practical skills. He was a prince who knew diplomacy and languages. Useless in the real world. Besides, if this was how his family treated him, how much worse would strangers be?
"Wherever you are, Acheron ... I hope you don't feel the way I do right now."
But he knew better. There was no way Acheron could be used like this and not feel the same.
Worthless. Powerless. Despised.
Yet the worst was the self-hatred.
You are a prince! his mind shouted at him. Heir to the Didymos throne. Get your ass up! Now! Who are you to complain about your fate?
"I'm a used whore," he breathed as pain racked him again. How could he ever hold his head up after this, knowing what they'd done to him for a solid week? It'd been bad enough when the priests had held him down and tortured him as they tried to drive out the demons that didn't exist. And the unknown Olympian had made lecherous offers he'd baited with the promise of freedom.
This was so much worse.