Hours later, Styxx lay in bed, trying his best not to move or breathe. Suddenly, he felt a gentle hand in his hair. He knew instantly who it was. Only one person was that kind or caring where he was concerned.

"Acheron?" he whispered.

Without answering, his brother crawled into bed behind him. "Is your head any better?"

"Not really. Yours?"

"It hurts but not as much as yours, I think. I can still function with mine." Acheron touched the fresh bruises on Styxx's bare back that throbbed even more than his head did. "Why were you punished?"

"I left the court sessions early. Like Ryssa, Father didn't believe my head hurts. He thought I was trying to avoid my responsibilities." Something their father had absolutely no tolerance for.

Acheron put his arms around him and held him close. "I'm sorry, Styxx."

"Thank you." Styxx didn't speak for several minutes as the voices in his head finally grew fainter and the cranial ache lessened enough that he could almost breathe normally again. "Acheron? Why do you think I can feel your pain, but you don't feel mine?"

"Ryssa would say it's the will of the gods."

But why? Styxx suspected that he must not be as important to the gods as Acheron. Why else would he feel his brother's wounds while Acheron was impervious to his pain? It was as if the gods wanted to ensure that Styxx protected his brother from all harm. As if he was Acheron's divinely chosen whipping boy....

"What do you believe, Acheron?"

"I don't know. Any more than I understand why the gods have abandoned us to such awful people while they speak so loudly in our heads. It doesn't make sense, does it?" Acheron turned over and pressed his back to Styxx's then his feet. As they lay quietly in the darkness of Styxx's room, Acheron reached to take Styxx's hand into his. "I'm sorry Ryssa is so mean to you. She just thinks that you're doted on and spoiled while they treat me badly."

"What do you think?"

"I see the truth. Our parents are suspicious of you, too. And while they are nice to you at times, they're also very, very mean."

Yes, they were. And unlike Acheron, he couldn't complain about it. No one believed him when he did so. They accused him of being spoiled and then disregarded his pain as insignificant, or worse, they took perverse pleasure in his suffering as if he deserved it because he was a prince while they were not. Sometimes he thought it would be better to be Acheron. At least his brother knew what reception he'd receive whenever their parents were around. Styxx never knew until it was too late.

Sometimes his father was loving, and then at others ...

He lashed out as if he hated Styxx even more than he hated Acheron. It made no sense and was terribly confusing to his young mind. For that reason, he didn't want to be around either of his parents or his sister.

It was best to avoid them and the confusion they caused.

Sighing, he squeezed Acheron's hand and let that touch silence the voices that urged him to kill himself. They were merciless in their taunts.

You are poison. So long as you live, you will suffer!

But if he died, Acheron died, too. The wise woman had proclaimed it so when they were born. Their lives had been joined together by the gods themselves and there was no way to undo it.

Maybe that is why you suffer.

The gods were trying to make him kill Acheron. To hate his brother so that Styxx would murder them both. It made sense in a way. Maybe they thought that if they tortured Styxx enough, he'd grow so tired of it that he'd be desperate enough to kill Acheron to end his own agony. Was that why their eyes were different? So that if he killed his brother, he wouldn't be looking into his own blue eyes when he did it?

Yet he couldn't make himself hate the only person who loved him. The only person who could comfort him and quiet the evil in his head.

Gods or no gods, misery or happiness, Acheron was his brother. Forever and always. He was the only real family Styxx had.

And the one thing he'd learned in his short life was that he couldn't trust anyone. Not even the gods. People lied all around him. Constantly. Even about the little things. Only Acheron was trustworthy and honest. Only his brother didn't try to harm him or seek to betray him to his father. So how could he hurt the only person in his life who treated him as something more than an object to be despised? The one person who didn't smirk in silent satisfaction whenever he was harmed?

"I love you, Acheron."

"I love you, too, brother."

Styxx leaned his head back until it rested against Acheron's and finally let the tears fall that had been misting his eyes all day. He could show them to Acheron. His brother understood and would never mock him for them. "Do you think we'll ever be able to leave this place and find peace?"

"No. I think we were born to suffer."

The saddest part? So did he. "At least we have each other."

Acheron nodded. "Brothers-always and forever. They'll never be able to take that away from us."

August 30, 9542 BC

"He's coming through the gates right now!"

Styxx looked up from his lessons to see Acheron in the doorway with a huge smile on his face. He didn't have to ask who Acheron was talking about. It would be their uncle Estes who always came to visit them this time of year. It was the one event all of them looked forward to with equal pleasure.

His heart pounding with the same excitement Acheron felt, he glanced up at his tutor, Master Praxis. "Might I be excused, sir? Please?"

"Of course, Your Highness."

Styxx set his scroll aside and ran to Acheron. Hand in hand, they rushed through the hall and down the stairs until they were at the front door where servants were assembling to greet their uncle. Ryssa was already outside on the stone steps, a few feet from their father.

His smile withered as cold dread filled every part of his body. How would his father greet him? For some reason, he couldn't hear his father's thoughts and the king's rigid stance gave him no clue as to the old man's mood.

Acheron let go of his hand and sidled over to Ryssa so that their father wouldn't notice him. How Styxx wished he could go to her for protection, too, but Ryssa never welcomed his company. Only his absence.

The musicians began their fanfare as his father turned in his direction. Styxx braced himself for his father's derision.

Instead, his father smiled warmly and held his hand out to him. "There you are, my precious boy. I was just about to send a servant to fetch you. Come and greet your uncle."

Maybe his father was in a good mood....

Smiling even while his stomach knotted harder, Styxx took his father's hand and allowed him to pull him up into his arms.

You better remember this. There's no telling when he'll embrace you again.

It was true. He'd taken to trying to hold on to any memory of his parents' kindness toward him. It was what saw him through their vicious attacks and periods of hateful words.

Styxx laid his head on his father's shoulder and closed his eyes. How he wished it could always be like this. Most of all, he wished Estes lived with them. His father was much kinder and happier whenever his brother was around. Like him and Acheron, Estes and their father had a special bond. One that was evident as his father rubbed Styxx's back and held him close, like he treasured him.

His father didn't release him until Estes's procession stopped at the drive below. Gleaming with gold armor and bright red cloaks and banners, his uncle's men were as impressive as his uncle himself. But what never failed to amaze Styxx was how much his uncle favored his father. At first glance, they, too, could pass as twins, even though Estes was three years younger. Identical in height, they had the same build, curly blond hair, and beards.

In full military regalia, Estes stepped down from his chariot and, laughing, rushed up the stairs to embrace his father. "Xerxes! How much I've missed you!"

"And I, you, little brother! How was your journey?"

"Any journey that brings me to my family is a good one, indeed." Estes stooped then gaped at Styxx. "Is that my little squirrel all grown and looking like a short adult? What are you now, child? Ten-and-eight? A score?"

"I'm six, Uncle!" Styxx smiled in delight then launched himself at Estes, who caught him with a laugh and held him close to his chest. "I'm not as big as you are. But one day-"

"You shall tower above me, little squirrel. No doubt." Estes kissed his cheek and squeezed him so hard that Styxx groaned from it. His uncle carried him up the stairs to where Ryssa and Acheron waited. His sister's blond hair fell to her waist in bright golden curls. Dressed in purple, she was truly the most beautiful girl in all Greece-if only she had the personality to match. "Ah ... my fairest Ryssa, you are a vision. More beautiful every time I see you."

She blushed then moved to hug him. "It's so good to see you, Uncle."

Estes set Styxx down as he saw Acheron. "And little Acheron ... look at how much you've grown, too. I barely recognize you and Styxx. Come and embrace me."

Acheron jumped into his arms and hugged him tight. "Have you been fighting the Atlanteans again?"

Their uncle always regaled them with the stories of his glorious battles against their enemies. A legendary, undefeated strategos, Estes was one of the most respected soldiers in all the world.

"Not lately, dearest. Unfortunately, we are trying for peace with them."

"Peace?" their father scoffed. "Such is not possible where they're concerned."

"So say you, brother, but the other Greek kings are trying, and I've been named as an ambassador to Atlantis while they negotiate the peace terms."

That seemed to please their father a great deal. "Well, if anyone can make peace with those jackdaws, it is you. Now come and let us catch up for a while."

Estes kissed Acheron's cheek then set him down beside Styxx. "Remind me later, boys, I have special gifts for both of you."

Their father curled his lip. "Why do you dote on that one when it's obvious he's not one of us?"

Estes caressed Acheron's cheek. "He's a fine, handsome boy, Xerxes. But for his freakish eyes, you'd never know he wasn't Styxx's brother."

Acheron winced at words Styxx knew cut his brother to the bone. He started to comfort him, but Ryssa picked Acheron up and cradled him to her. Acheron laid his head down on her shoulder and closed his eyes. Before Styxx could move, she headed back inside with Acheron while his father and Estes withdrew to his father's study.

Alone, Styxx watched as everyone dispersed. He'd been completely forgotten.

Again.

Sighing at the common occurrence, he headed inside so that he could return to his solitary studies. Other boys his age met together to learn, but his father didn't want him held back by those who were slower. It was far more important that Styxx, as a future king, commit to memory as much as he could as fast as was possible. Therefore, he had the best, most learned tutors his father could procure and he was required to fully utilize them and not waste their time. Failure to advance at the rate his father set was met with the harshest of punishments for both the tutors and for Styxx. So his tutors, fearful of the king's wrath, were brutal with their expectations, and Styxx had to keep up or be punished first by them and then by his father. The king had given all his tutors and trainers full rein to make his life miserable if he did anything they didn't approve of.

You will be responsible for everyone in this kingdom, boy. You must learn to focus and think through every complicated matter and obstacle. I will not leave my throne to a senseless fool.

Because his father had inherited the throne so young, he didn't care that Styxx was still a child. Should anything happen to the king, Styxx would advance to the throne immediately. It could happen twenty years from now, or tomorrow. In the event of the latter, it was crucial that he was trained and ready to accept his responsibilities as king.

There's no place in the heir's life for foolish childhood pastimes or pursuits. Every man, woman, and child of this kingdom is looking to you for their welfare and future. For thousands of years, Didymos has stood as the greatest of the Greek city-states. Undefeated. The House of Aricles is the oldest in the land and we have a glorious history of renowned heroes spanning untold generations. Gods willing, we will continue to be the greatest of them all. I will not allow you to taint our empire or tarnish the names of our esteemed Ariclean ancestors. When they look at you, they do not see Prince Styxx, they see the son of Xerxes of the House of Aricles. Every word you say or action you take reflects on me and I've worked too hard to achieve my stellar reputation to have it tainted by you or anyone else.

Acheron and Ryssa were lucky. Their father didn't view them as an extension of himself. Whenever they did something wrong, the king didn't consider it an affront to his good name. They were tutored together and at a much more leisurely pace by the women in Ryssa's retinue. Sometimes Styxx could hear them laughing through the walls while his tutors mercilessly drilled him.

But at least Praxis wasn't overly harsh. He was far more patient and understanding than the others.

You are still a young boy, Highness. I know it's hard for you to sit for hours on end and focus. Let's take a brief break and let your lessons sink in before we start the next session.

Sometimes he'd even bring sweets for Styxx to snack on while they worked.

As Styxx neared the stairs, he saw his mother waiting in the shadows. An older version of Ryssa, she had been a celebrated beauty in her youth. But too many years of overindulging alcohol had aged her beauty so that she now appeared older than their father.

For a moment, he thought she might be sober. But as he drew closer, the stench of excess stole his breath.

"Which bastard are you?" she sneered.

"Styxx, Mother."

Angrily, she narrowed her gaze as if she didn't quite believe him. "Where's the other one?"

"With Ryssa."

A smile finally curled her lips. "My precious Ryssa ... she was supposed to come visit with me this morning." She started for the staircase then stumbled. Styxx moved to help her. At first, she recoiled from his touch, but after a moment she relaxed and allowed him to give her his shoulder so that she could climb the stairs without falling and hurting herself.

"Who came just now?" she asked as they walked down the hall, toward her chambers.

"Uncle Estes."

"Good. That'll make the old skatophage happy for a while."

Styxx didn't comment, but he was glad his father wasn't around to hear his wife call him a dung-eater. No doubt it would upset him greatly.

He led her into her room and deposited her on her dressing stool. As he started away, she reached out and grabbed him by the hair then yanked him closer to her.

"Please, Mother. You're hurting me." He tried to pull her hand away, but she held him fast and with the strength of all the Furies.

She snorted derisively. "You don't know what pain is. Try birthing an ungrateful bastard from your loins, followed by another of his kind. Then watch as your husband's love turns to hatred for you because of them. That's pain. But you ... you're the precious, beloved heir he adores. You're all he loves now."

Funny, it didn't feel that way to him. Not while his father censored everything he did. For every bit of praise he received, his father made sure to give at least three criticisms to accompany it.

She gentled her grip in his hair, but didn't let go. "You have hair like your father. I used to love to run my hands through it at night. Back then, he was mine alone and he loved me so. He would have done anything for me.... At night, he couldn't wait to bed me." Tears filled her eyes. "Why did you have to be born?" Sobbing, she pulled his hair then slapped him. "Get out of my sight! You disgust me!"

Styxx ran from the room as fast as he could. His cheek burned from her blow, but he knew better than to leave his mother alone like this. His father would be very angry should he learn that Styxx had abandoned her when it was obvious she needed someone to watch over her. Wiping at his tears, he went to the small antechamber where her maids were gathered to sew and gossip.

"What are you doing here?" the eldest maid snapped as soon as she saw him in the doorway. "I was told by Her Majesty that you were not allowed in this part of the palace. She has no desire to see you."

He disregarded her venom. "The queen is in her room and summons you."

She brushed rudely past him without a word. The others stared at him as if he were the filth that sullied their shoes. They were forever looking at him like that whenever he was without his father and he hated it. Most of all, he hated how it made him feel like he was the filth on their shoes.

Lifting his chin, he glared back at each one in turn. "I am your prince and heir. You are not to meet my gaze without my permission," he reminded them. "Or I should have you whipped for it." He slammed the door and turned to find Ryssa in the hall behind him.

She raked him with a look that made him feel even lower than the maids had. "You wretched little tyrant. You think you're so much better than everyone else. You're not, you know. You're just a spoiled little pig who's nothing without his father. I hope one day you get exactly what you deserve."

The sincerity of her gaze and cruelty of words shredded his heart. Why could she not, just once, say something kind to him? What had he ever done to her? Nothing, and he was tired of her insults. "Shut up, kuna! I hate you! I wish you were dead and burned!"

Ryssa grabbed his arm and shook him. "How dare you talk to me like that and use such a filthy word!"

"Styxx!"

He cringed at his father's furious tone. Knowing what would follow, he pried her harsh, bruising grip from his arm and walked past Ryssa to the top of the stairs so that he could see his father below, standing beside Estes.

Fabulous. Now his father would show off for his younger brother.

"Come here, boy!"

His heart pounding in fear he didn't dare let show, Styxx descended the stairs. "Yes, Father?"

"What have I told you about respecting your sister?"

She is the sole princess of this realm. As such, she is to be treasured above all....

It was so unfair. If he were Ryssa, he'd be able to whine and tell his father what had happened. But he knew from experience that it would only make this worse. Men did not complain, and most especially not kings. They took the repercussions for their actions and held their heads high no matter what.

Still, he wasn't king. Not yet. And he definitely wasn't a man. "She started it, Father."

He grabbed his arm in the same place Ryssa had twisted it, causing Styxx to grimace. "How dare you! You do not disrespect your father and you damn sure do not disrespect your king," he snarled. "Ever!"

His father yanked his arm and hauled him toward the guard room until they reached the Royal Scold's station. The scold came to his feet immediately and bowed low.

His father flung him at the tall, beefy man Styxx hated with every part of himself.

"Twenty lashes, and ten more if he whimpers or cries."

The scold nodded respectfully. "Am I to be given immunity, Majesty?"

"Aye, of course."

The scold turned his dark eyes to Styxx. "Your Highness?"

It galled him so that he was forced to grant immunity to the person who was about to cane him. But since it was death for anyone to strike a member of the royal family, it had to be done before the scold could carry out the king's orders against a prince. And if he didn't grant it, his father would only make it worse on him.

"Aye. I grant it," he whispered.

"When you're finished, take him to his room and see to it that he's kept there until morning with no comforts."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

His lips trembling from his pent-up tears, Styxx watched as his father left him alone with the giant mountain of a man. For lesser offenses, which he never seemed to commit, he had a whipping boy who would take his punishments for him. But for anything that was deemed a personal insult to his family, Styxx, unlike Ryssa, had to bear it all himself. The princess was never whipped for anything. She was too precious and dainty for such. Most of all, she wasn't being groomed for manhood and kingship.

And now that the scold was granted immunity by the two of them, he would take a great deal of pleasure in hurting him. He always did. Even if Styxx didn't cry or whimper, he would still receive the harshest punishment his father had called for. And all because the scold, like Ryssa, thought him to be a spoiled, undeserving brat who needed to be humbled.

You think you're so much better than the rest of us. You're not, dog. You're just a rich man's son. A drunken god-whore's whelp.

Laughing in greedy expectation, the scold pulled him into the small room that was reserved solely for Styxx's private punishments, and bent him over the caning bench. He shoved a piece of leather into Styxx's mouth for him to bite down on and muffle his cries so that his pain wouldn't disturb others or embarrass his father. He tied Styxx's hands to the front of the bench to hold him in place and make sure he didn't try to run then bared his buttocks for the beating.

Styxx placed his cheek against the cold stone and tried to be brave. He did. But when the scold lightly brushed the wood cane against his naked thighs to let him feel how thick and hard it was, he wet himself in fear of the coming pain.

"Some worthless king you'll make," he mocked then he lashed him with every ounce of his massive strength.

Horrified and in pain, Styxx held his screams in for as long as he could, but in the end, he was as worthless as they all thought. He couldn't help it, especially since the scold didn't hurry it along. Rather he dragged it out, waiting for the numbness to pass before he struck again.

At least it took Styxx's attention away from the bruises on his arm and cheek. He should probably be grateful for that.

When it was finally over, the scold dragged him to his room and locked him inside. The servants had already come in and stripped his bed of its linens and pillows. Everything except his bed and chamber pot had been removed.

Tired and aching, Styxx limped toward his bed, but he hurt too much to climb into it. Rather he lay down on the stone floor and wished that he was the son of anyone else. He hated being a prince. Too much was expected of him and everyone despised him for it.

Even his own sister and mother.

Just once he wanted to be free to go outside and play like other children did. To have them welcome him as another playmate and not run away in fear or hatred. While they frolicked with carefree abandon, he had to learn how to speak, read, and write Atlantean, Greek, Akkadian, Egyptian, Sumerian, and a million other languages he didn't care about. Other children got to participate in fun games and friendly competitions, while he had to master swordplay and military tactics taught to him by instructors who detested him even more than the others. Instructors who knocked him to the ground and delighted whenever he bled.

Get up, Highness. In battle, you'd be dead or taken already. You have to fight the hardest of all so that your men will respect you and be willing to lay their lives down at your command. No one follows a coward, no matter what crown he wears....

Don't laugh, boy, it isn't kingly. Don't smile or they'll think you're soft or stupid. You must be composed and dignified at all times. Never let your guard down. They are your subjects, not your friends, and you are their future king. You mustn't ever forget that.

On and on it went until it rang in his head alongside the voices of the gods and horrible thoughts of other people.

He didn't see a single perk to being king. Not if it meant you couldn't enjoy laughter or ... well ... anything.

I wish Acheron was the heir....

But as soon as he had that thought, shame filled him for it. He would never wish this sort of misery on his beloved brother. Acheron had enough to deal with.

"One day I will be king," he sobbed, slamming his small fist against the floor. And when he was, things would be very different for both of them. No one would ever make either him or Acheron feel like this again.

Not even his sister.

February 3, 9541 BC

Long after midnight, Styxx lay abed, trying to sleep, yet it was impossible. If the pain in his skull wasn't excruciating enough, Acheron had been beaten earlier for the high grand offense of meeting their father's gaze as they passed in the hallway.

His back burned in sympathetic pain for his brother's wounds. He still didn't know how he'd made it through dinner without crying or screaming from the agony, but now that he was alone, he could writhe and moan in peace.

Why can't I just die already?

Surely death would be better than living like this. How could one head hurt so much and not render the victim dead or brain damaged?

How?

Sucking his breath in sharply between his teeth, he heard someone at his door. He froze in panic. It couldn't be Acheron. They were both in too much pain to leave their beds.

The door opened to show his father in the dim firelight. This couldn't be a good thing. His father never disturbed him at night.

What have I done now?

That was a stupid thought. He'd done nothing. Rather, what does he believe I've done?

Styxx squeezed his eyes shut, feigning sleep and praying that his father would leave him in peace. Instead, his father sat on the edge of his bed. Styxx held his breath, terrified of what this meant. Why was he here? What could he possibly want with him at this hour?

I didn't do anything....

He'd been on his best behavior for weeks now. Only Acheron had been acting out lately. Not that he blamed his brother. They were both tired of how they were treated.

His father sank his fingers into Styxx's hair. His hand was so large that he was able to cradle the whole of Styxx's head in his massive palm.

Styxx's eyes flew open as he waited for the pain he was sure would follow.

Yet his father began running his hand through Styxx's blond curls, toying with them, brushing them back from his face. Maybe he wasn't angry with him, after all. Hoping for the best, he met his father's gaze in the firelight, but didn't dare speak a word. There was rare tenderness in his father's gaze, mixed with concern.

"You remind me much of Estes when he was a boy. Things you say and do ... It makes me think of our childhood together and how much I miss it. Even this was his room back then...." His father brushed his thumb over Styxx's brow and smiled at the memories. Suddenly, the smell of alcohol on the king's breath hit him hard. His father was terribly drunk.

Biting his lip, Styxx prayed that his father wouldn't fly into one of the legendary rages that his mother had whenever she fell too deeply into her cups.

"He was my only friend. He still is. You've no idea what it's like to have a brother like him. One you can trust who would never do anything to betray you."

His father was wrong about that. Acheron was the best friend anyone could ask for. Not even Estes could equal him.

Leaning closer, his father squinted at him while he held his chin in his hand. He turned Styxx's head so that he could study his face from different angles. "You look like us ... but are you really my son?"

"Father-"

"Don't speak to me!"

Styxx clamped his jaw shut as another wave of terror washed over him. What would his father do?

His father pulled the blanket back so that he could rudely inspect every inch of Styxx's entire body. "You look so human...."

Styxx wanted to scream as pain racked him hard whenever his father touched the areas of his small body bruised by Acheron's beating. But he didn't dare let his father know he was hurting when there was no obvious reason for it.

His father rolled him onto his back. Styxx's jaw quivered as tears filled his eyes. There'd been a good reason why he'd been lying on his stomach. His breathing labored, he watched as his father pulled the knife from his belt.

Is he going to kill me?

"But are you human? I have to know." Before Styxx could move or react, his father seized his forearm in a merciless grip then he violently slashed it open. Unable to hold back, Styxx cried out as blood covered his arm and soaked his sheets.

"Sweet Hera," his father breathed. "What have I done?" He clutched at Styxx's wounded arm, trying to stanch the blood flow. "I'm so sorry, Styxx. Forgive me, child."

His hands shaking, his father wrapped Styxx's arm with cloth he tore from Styxx's sheets then he pulled him into his arms and rocked him while Styxx silently sobbed. "Shh, little one. It's all right. It's all right...."

But it wasn't and Styxx knew it. From the moment of his birth, his father had questioned his parentage. If not in words, then by the unguarded glares Styxx would see whenever they were alone.

"It's not your fault, child. It's that demon bastard. He's to blame for all of this. He's the one who makes me doubt you. Every time I see his face ... It fills me with such violence."

Not just Acheron's face. It was his face, too.

His father cupped his head in his large hand and kissed his brow then his cheek. "You are my baby boy. The heir I prayed and sacrificed to the gods for. I know you are. I know it." Tears filled his eyes as he cast a suspicious glare at Styxx. "Aren't you?"

How could he answer a question when he wasn't sure either? His father sensed the very thing he knew for a fact. That he wasn't right. He wasn't normal. While Acheron had the eyes of a god, Styxx was the one who felt phantom pains from wounds given to his brother. He was the one who heard stray thoughts of random people. Heard the voices of gods much louder than Acheron did. He sensed other people's emotions and intended actions, even when they tried to conceal them, and he knew the weather without fail.

But the worst were the merciless headaches that plagued him all the time.

Maybe I'm not human....

In all honesty, Acheron seemed to be far more normal than he did.

"Answer me!" his father growled. "Are you my son?"

There was only one answer to give. Right or wrong. "Y-y-yes."

His father placed Styxx's head under his chin and wept while he continued to rock him. He didn't let go again until well after dawn. Then, he laid Styxx down on his bed and tucked him into his bloodstained sheets as if nothing had happened. Kissing Styxx's brow, he gave his shoulder a light squeeze then left him alone.

Scared and hurt, Styxx stared at the makeshift bandage his father had wrapped and knotted around his forearm. His hand shaking, he peeled it back to see what he'd suspected ... he was already healing from the vicious wound. By the end of the day, it would be almost completely gone, with only a scar to mark its location.

I'm not human any more than Acheron is.

And his father would absolutely kill him if he ever learned the truth of it.

August 30, 9541 BC

Styxx opened his bedroom door to find Acheron on the other side of it. He let out a relieved breath. "Thank the gods it's you."

"Why is your door locked again?"

He shrugged, not wanting to tell Acheron or anyone else about the midnight visit from the king. Since February, he'd made sure to lock and block his door every night lest he receive another unwelcomed surprise.

"What are you doing here?" Styxx asked, trying to deflect his brother's attention away from a question he had no intention of answering.

"I brought your present to you from Estes. You left it downstairs. After what happened last year, I wanted to make sure you got to keep this one."

Styxx took the wooden horse from Acheron's hand and offered a smile he didn't feel.

You deserve nothing until you learn how to conduct yourself civilly and with honor. His father's cruel words still haunted him.

"Thank you, Acheron." Styxx moved to place the horse on the chest by his window where he kept his collection of them. After last year's nightmare, he hadn't felt the same about his wooden horses. Instead of being a source of pride and pleasure, all they reminded him of was his father forcing him to burn the beautiful Atlantean horse Estes had brought him while his legs had ached from his beating and his ego from wetting himself. And all the while Ryssa had smirked in pleasure of his being forced to destroy his gift over his "insult" to her.

Sighing, he moved away from the chest. "A set of beads from us both."

Acheron scowled. "What?"

Styxx met Acheron's deep frown. "What what? You asked me what I got Mother for her birthday."

"No, I didn't. I only thought about asking you."

Styxx ground his teeth as he realized that he'd read Acheron's mind. You better be more careful. Such a slip around someone else could be fatal. "It must be our twin blood." That was always a safe bet whenever he was with Acheron. His brother accepted that explanation without question or malice.

Grabbing the small wooden box from his table, he took it over to Acheron. "You want to give it to her?"

He shook his head. "You better do it. She'd prefer it from you, I think."

And he'd prefer not to see her at all. Most of the times he was with their mother, she looked at him as if she could go through him. "Shall we get this over with?"

"I'm game if you are."

Honestly, I'd rather have my eyes gouged out and fed to me.

But part of being a king was doing things you didn't want to without complaint or hesitation. Head high. Back straight. Show no emotion. Even if you were only seven years old.

Styxx clutched the box to his chest, dreading it already. "Maybe she'll still be passed out and we can leave it with her maids."

Hoping for the best outcome, he took Acheron's hand and led him through the back hallways of the palace to their mother's rooms.

At the door, Styxx hesitated for so long that Acheron moved around him and knocked in his stead. A few seconds later, the oldest maid opened it to stare down her nose at them.

Styxx ignored her disdain. "We've come to wish the queen a happy birthday. Is she awake?"

Without a word, the maid stepped back, opening the door wide enough to allow them to enter the room. Their mother sat in a chair near the window, staring out it.

Unsure of her mood, Styxx hesitated. Why did his powers always fail him when he needed them most?

"Is she sober?" Acheron whispered in his ear.

"I don't know."

Their mother let out an exasperated sigh. "Will you two stop whispering. Either come in or leave. Preferably the latter."

Styxx started to go.

Acheron pushed him forward.

Thanks, brother....

Crossing the room, Styxx held the box out toward her.

She frowned at it. "What's this?"

"Happy birthday, Mother," they said in unison.

A rare smile lit her face as she took the box and opened it to find the shell bead necklace Styxx had bought in the marketplace. Hoping to please her, he'd traded one of his carved horses for it.

"Thank you." She pulled him into a cold, mechanical hug.

Bug-eyed, Styxx met Acheron's gaping stare. Before he realized what Acheron was doing, his brother stepped forward.

"Happy birthday, Mother." Acheron moved to hug her.

Shrieking in outrage, she slapped him hard across his face. "Get away from me, you repulsive monster!"

Styxx's nose exploded with blood as pain permeated his cheek, skull, and eye. Damn, for a sot, his mother could pack a wallop.

She continued to rail against them as they ran for the door and then down the hallway. They didn't stop until they'd reached the bottom of the stairs.

His breathing labored, Acheron turned to face him. "Why do they do that to me?"

"I don't know. They're crazy."

"What in the name of Zeus happened to you?"

Styxx flinched at the sound of his father's angry voice as he wiped at the blood on his face. He cringed over the sight of blood droplets on his white chiton. Few things upset his father more than for him to be disheveled in public.

"Did you hit him?" he accused Acheron.

Acheron shook his head.

"Liar!" He moved to take his arm.

"Father, no!" Styxx blocked him from attacking his brother.

Acheron ducked then ran like mad up the stairs and out of sight.

His father started after Acheron, but Styxx grabbed his arm and held him in place. "He didn't do it, Father. It's just another nosebleed. I get them all the time."

"Xerxes?"

Styxx glanced past his father to see his uncle closing the distance between them. "Uncle, please tell him that Acheron didn't harm me. It's nothing."

Estes passed a skeptical look from Styxx to his father. "It doesn't look like nothing to me, child. Rather, that's a severe injury on your face. It's obvious someone hit you."

"It wasn't Acheron." Styxx let go of his father so that he could hold his nostrils together to contain the bleeding. "I shall be fine, Father. I'm sorry for the mess." Hoping he'd given Acheron enough time to hide, he left them and went to his room to clean his nose and change his clothes.

He'd barely finished dressing a few minutes later when he heard Acheron and Ryssa yelling. What in the name of Olympus?

Normally, he was the one screaming with Ryssa. It wasn't like Acheron to get crossed up with her for anything. But as he left his room, he realized it was something far worse than a fight between siblings....

Soldiers were dragging his brother down the stairs, toward the front door. Terrified, Styxx ran after them. He didn't catch up until they were in the drive outside. He tried to reach his brother, but his father held him back while Estes carried Acheron away in his arms.

Styxx glared at his father. "What's going on?"

"Estes is taking him to live in Atlantis."

That was an even harder blow than the one that still stung his face. "What? No! No!"

Styxx tried to break out of his father's hold to get to his brother, who was fighting Estes every bit as hard.

"It's for the best. He's a danger to all of us, especially you."

How could they be so stupid? His brother was the only one who would never intentionally hurt him. "Acheron! Please, Father! Don't take my brother from me! Please!"

"Styxx!" Acheron held his hands out toward him while Styxx did everything he could to get to him.

No one listened to them. Nor did they take pity or mercy on the boys.

Heartbroken, Styxx fought his father's hold and watched as his uncle and brother rode out of sight. And as they went, he knew that Estes hadn't just taken his brother from him.

He'd taken everything....