Styxx (DH #33) by Sherrilyn Kenyon Page B

the embroidery on my himation! What am I to do?”
    Go naked, dear sister. Oh wait … better yet, wear one of your two million other gowns. Not like she didn’t have a dozen chests bulging with them.
    Their father cupped her cheek in his hand. The tender look on his face was enough to made Styxx’s lip curl. If he dared to complain over something so trivial, he’d be publicly embarrassed at best, beaten at worst.
    “Don’t fret. They can fix it, kitten.”
    “No, Father. It’s ruined.” Huge tears fell down her cheeks. No wonder his father despised them. “I just won’t attend. I can’t. They’ll all laugh at me.” She narrowed her icy blue eyes on Styxx, who stiffened as his gut clenched.
    Here it comes.…
    “You distracted my maid, didn’t you?”
    He had to struggle to keep the venom from his voice. “No.”
    “You’re lying! I’ve seen the way you watch her. It’s revolting.”
    “I don’t watch your maid, Ryssa. I don’t even know which one was responsible for your dress.”
    “Then you don’t know if you’ve distracted her or not, do you? Do you!”
    Styxx would throw his head back in exasperation, but he didn’t want his father jumping all over him for disregarding her pain. Besides, Ryssa’s hysterical tantrum was enough for anyone to deal with.
    “You’ve probably destroyed my sandals, too. You’d love for all of them to laugh at me tonight, admit it.” She stomped her foot at him.
    “I don’t want anyone to laugh at you, lamb-head. I just don’t care.” Styxx turned to walk away.
    But Ryssa wouldn’t let it go. She grabbed his arm and jerked him around to face her. “Why can’t you ever learn to be happy for someone else? Huh?”
    Honestly, I’d be thrilled if I could just learn to be happy for myself. “Unlike you, Ryssa, I don’t waste my time worrying about other people.”
    “Exactly my point. You’re so selfish and cold, it’s disgusting.”
    “That’s not what I meant,” he said, but she was already gone. He started to fling his hands out in an obscene gesture then caught his father’s angry glare and disturbing thoughts over the fact Styxx wasn’t giving his sister due respect.
    Instead, Styxx held his hands up in helpless surrender while Ryssa cornered their father with her complaints against her brother who could do nothing to please her.
    Except die.
    “You see, Father! You see how he treats people with such blatant disregard of their feelings? How can someone so cold and heartless be king? Zeus help us all with him on your throne.”
    I know. I’m not fit to breathe your precious air and I should be killed where I stand.
    He was surprised she didn’t come after him with a knife like his mother had. Gods save me from hysterical bitches.
    Styxx started to turn away, but just as he moved, a fierce, unbelievable pain went through his tongue. It was so bad that he couldn’t breathe for it, and it sent him straight to his knees as his head reeled.
    What in the name of Hades?
    He felt like he was choking on blood, and instead of easing, it worsened. Unable to stand it, he cried out in utter agony.
    Oh gods, Acheron … what are they doing to you now?
    It was the only rational explanation. Over the years, he’d learned to hide the phantom pains that came when he wasn’t expecting them. Most he understood. They were canings or beatings. Hair-pulling. Burns. Hunger pangs even though he’d just eaten … But others, like this, he didn’t comprehend what caused them. All he knew was how bad it hurt.
    “Styxx?”
    He heard his father’s voice, yet he couldn’t respond. His tongue was too swollen. While he didn’t often show the physical traces of Acheron’s injuries, he would at times have peculiar handprints or swollen places on his body. But never had anything like this happened before.
    Arching his back, he tried to focus on something else. Yet it was impossible. Tears streamed down his face as his vision swam.
    “He’s faking.” Ryssa snarled,