Styxx (DH #33) by Sherrilyn Kenyon

fine by him, except for when they lied to his father out of petty spite. Since they didn’t know how his father was with him in private, they thought it funny to belittle his efforts with offhand comments such as , He is a pampered prince after all, Majesty. What can you really expect from one such as he? They had no idea that his father took any report of his “laziness” as a personal criticism and embarrassment. Nor did they know that Styxx, unlike Ryssa, who was given everything she desired, received no other coin from his father. So for every ten hours he worked, he was lucky to be paid for two.
    Yes, his father clothed and fed him as befitted his station, but all the charitable funds a prince was expected to give, as well as all gifts for his family and servants, came out of what Styxx earned. Gifts that had to be on par with what a king would give or his father would also view that failure as a personal insult.
    We are known by the gifts we give.…
    Styxx snorted as he thought of the presents his father had “bestowed” on him, such as the “honor” of attending boring senate meetings and court sessions.
    Then I guess you’re a cheap fucking bastard, Father.
    But Styxx was never allowed to be so “thoughtful.” Irritated, he touched the bracelet that had the face of Artemis, his mother’s patron goddess from her homeland, stamped in the center. It was dainty and intricately cast. He’d never seen anything prettier.
    Maybe this time she would smile at him.
    Just don’t throw it in my face like you did last year and have lashes added to what’s already coming to me.
    And after this most charming meeting with his maternal host, he had that beating to look forward to.…
    Khalash!
    Pulling his chlamys down to hide his swollen arm, he headed for her chambers to get it over with.
    He knocked on the door and waited for her maid to answer. Per her normal routine, the maid didn’t speak to him—the bitch who’d been attending his mother since his mother was a girl held him responsible for his mother’s ruination and she despised him passionately for it.
    With a curled lip, Dristas opened the door wider and allowed him to enter while his guards remained outside.
    His mother was pacing in front of the window that looked out onto the back courtyard. She was more agitated than usual.
    Men! I hate them all. They’re worthless, faithless pigs who should be slaughtered and gutted. Every one of them! May they all rot in Tartarus for eternity!
    Styxx drew up short as her enraged thoughts rang in his head. This was definitely a bad time.
    As he started to turn around and leave, his mother caught sight of him.
    “What are you doing here? You’re not my Ryssa.”
    That was a definite affirmative. Her grand powers of observation never ceased to stun him.
    He lifted the small wooden box up so that she could see it. “I was bringing you your birthday gift, Matisera . But I can see it’s a bad time.”
    She raked a sneer over him. “Another cheap trinket … Meaningless tribute from a worthless ingrate.”
    Not really. The cost had been rather dear. I should have spent the money on the horse I wanted. At least he would have gotten some joy out of that.
    And a little affection to boot.
    “I’ll leave it here on your table for you.” He set it down, his heart aching for the hatred his mother bore him. “Happy birthday.” Wishing he could make her smile, just once, he turned to leave.
    The moment he did, she shrieked in outrage.
    Before Styxx could see what was wrong with her, he felt a sharp bite in his right shoulder. All her maids began screaming. Their voices, both in his head and out, were so shrill that he couldn’t understand any of them. As he twisted around, there was another vicious pain in his arm, followed by another and another. Unable to comprehend the source of the sensation, he looked at his tiny mother and saw the bloodied knife in her hand as she pulled it out of his body.
    She moved to stab him