His father held his hand up to silence him. "I took care of the matter. Don't let it concern you."
If he were sober, he probably would, but as it was ... whatever.
His father left him.
"I still didn't sleep with her," he mumbled, reaching for his kylix of wine. He'd never touched a woman and now he doubted if he ever would.
Even his wife.
The last thing he wanted was to risk anyone seeing the word on his groin. And with a woman, if she did, she'd run and tell everyone about it because that was what they all did. He had yet to meet one capable of a maintaining a secret unless it protected her.
As for men?
He'd rather die than ever do that again. So here he was, a well-trained tsoulus who was celibate. He would laugh if the entire matter didn't sicken him so.
Estes had taken much more than his virginity and innocence ... more than his little brother, he'd stolen part of Styxx's soul and all of his future.
How could he ever trust anyone now?
All of his dreams of finding a woman who could love him ... gone as fast as Estes had drugged him that first time.
He would hate his uncle if he had any room left for it. But he hated himself too much to hate anyone else.
Fuck it, he snarled silently as he reached for his pouch and pulled out more of the herbs. He was getting low on them. Later, he'd go into town and see if he could find someone who peddled them.
For now.
He sucked his breath in sharply as a sudden pain went through him, and placed his hand to his groin where the brand still hurt at times. The moment his fingers accidentally brushed against his cock, he jerked his hand away.
I can't even masturbate now. Because every time he touched himself, even to bathe or piss, he remembered Estes holding him with their hands entwined....
Grimacing in distaste and horror, Styxx grabbed the rest of the herbs and dumped them in his cup. "I just want to forget everything."
He downed the entire contents of the cup and cursed out loud. Why, when Estes had the ability to remove it, had his uncle left him with the memory of the nine days he'd spent with them in the woods?
Because he's a fucking sadistic whoreson.
And Styxx was his well-used whore.
November 4, 9533 BC
Styxx clenched his hand before his father saw it shaking uncontrollably. They were holding open court sessions for the nobles and citizens, and he knew well how his father reacted whenever he tried to excuse himself. He ground his teeth to keep them from chattering.
What is wrong with me?
He felt ill and disoriented, and for once, he hadn't drugged himself. Theoretically, he was sober. But it sure didn't seem that way.
"Majesty? Is His Highness all right?"
Styxx cringed at the senator who'd asked the question. Why did someone always have to pull him into a fire?
His father glanced over at him then gaped. "Styxx? Are you ill?"
He wiped at the sweat in his eyes. "I'm fine, Father."
To his shock, his father came over to him. "Look at me."
He obeyed as his father placed his hand to his brow.