Page 54 of Styxx (Dark-Hunter 22)
Hilarious, really. In a pathetic horror story kind of way. Why not laugh at this point? Tears certainly had gotten him nothing but mockery. Why not try a different approach?
"What do you want me to say, Father? I'm sorry? Fine. I'm sorry. Please, find the gentle benevolent mercy in your heart to forgive me for the dishonor and disservice I've done you with my neglect."
"You dare mock me? No, you're not sorry at all. But you will be." He kicked at Styxx's feet. "Guards!"
They entered immediately.
Styxx swept them with a hooded glance, wondering if one of them had fucked him, too.
His father stepped back so that they could seize him in rough grips that enjoyed giving him as much misery as possible. "Take His Highness to the scold."
Styxx winced as they jerked him to his feet and all but dragged him down to it. Their unspoken insults rang in his head alongside the ones his father hurled at him.
As if I care anymore.
They threw open the door to the guards' room and hauled him inside. The scold's eyes lit up with greedy, lust-filled delight when he saw him there.
Styxx gave him a cold smile. "Bad luck, old man. My father intends to watch."
That took the joy out of him, but the look that replaced it promised Styxx dire retribution.
Oh yeah, this was going to hurt. Badly.
So be it.
"Seventy lashes."
Even the scold sucked his breath in on the severity of his father's order.
Styxx met his father's gaze without flinching and laughed. "Why stop there, Father? Why not go for one hundred?"
"You continue this insolence and I will."
Before he could say another thing, the scold shoved the leather into his mouth. "For the sake of the gods, Highness, shut up," he breathed in Styxx's ear.
The scold met his father's gaze. "Am I pardoned, Majesty?"
"Yes."
"Highness?"
Did it matter what he thought? Who was the bastard who came up with this twisted formality?
Glaring at his father, Styxx nodded curtly.
The scold took him into his "beautiful" room and tied him to the bench he knew so well. Styxx watched in silence as the scold selected the cane then went behind him to lift his chiton and expose his buttocks for the beating.
"Wait!" his father said before it began.
Styxx ground his teeth in fear as a new horror seized his heart. Had Estes branded "whore" there, too?
Gods, what does he see?
"Remove his gag."
"Yes, Your Majesty." The scold pulled the leather out then stepped back and averted his gaze.
"Where did the scars on your thighs and buttocks come from, boy?"
Styxx gaped at the stupidity of that single question. "They burned and bled the demons out of me, Father. Don't you remember?"
"With hot brands?"
No ... cold ones.
Was the old man senile? What did he think they'd use? Rose petals?
"You saw my wounds when Estes brought you in."
His father tugged at Styxx's chiton until he'd exposed Styxx's left side and the vicious, puckered scars that marked him from armpit to thigh. For several seconds, his father said nothing as his gaze flitted over them, and then down to the scar on Styxx's forearm where the bastard had cut him, and finally to the scars his mother's tender loving hand had dealt him.
Thankfully, Styxx was bent so that the most horrifying scar that marked him as a whore was hidden from his father's gaze.
"You're excused," the king finally said to the scold.
Bowing, he left them.
His father swallowed hard. "I never really saw your body when you were at the Dionysion. I barely looked at your face."
Funny, it hadn't seemed that way to him. He would have sworn his father glared at his wounds with sick satisfaction.
His father covered Styxx's side with his chiton so he wouldn't have to see the scars anymore. "How many months were you there again?"
That question slapped him hard. "You don't remember?"
His father shook his head. "But you do, don't you?"
How could he ever forget? "Every heartbeat I spent there under the priests' tender care is branded into my memory, Father."
His father winced then untied his hands. You've been through enough, boy.
Styxx pushed himself up as his father left without another word.
His head pounding, Styxx made his way back to his room. He knew how bad the scars on the front of him were. How much worse were the ones on his back that his father had been so revolted by them?
I should ask the senators who've screwed me since they've seen them.
He pressed his hand to his skull, wishing he could squeeze his head until he drove it all out forever.
I can't take this anymore. He was too young to have this much horror. Too young to hurt like this when there was no end for it in sight. No way out ...
Damn you, Acheron.
Ever since his brother had thrown it in his face, he'd noticed how true Acheron's words were. The hungry stares from everyone who saw him. Looks and actions he'd assumed were from his being prince. But Acheron was right. People coveted his body even when they didn't know he had a title. And they were a lot more aggressive when they didn't know.
Even if he ran away, they would treat him just as his uncle had. Like a piece of savory meat on a banquet table. He'd become his brother....
A well-paid, overused whore.
Not that he wasn't already.
I just want one single moment of peace where my memories don't shred my soul. One day without pain.
With no better thought, he washed himself and changed his clothes then snuck past his guards to get his horse.
There was only one thought on his mind as he rode from the stable, toward the high shoreline.
To end this stygian nightmare once and for all.
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