Free Styxx (DH #33) by Sherrilyn Kenyon Page A

to the ground.
    “You haven’t earned the right to touch a Didymosian xiphos, even a training one, and I won’t have your weak, effeminate hand defile it.” The king retrieved it, and left. He handed the sword off to Galen on his way out of the arena.
    Sighing, Styxx rose to his feet and again picked up his damaged hoplon and helm then limped off to change clothes.
    Galen met him just outside the dressing room.
    Without a word, Styxx handed the veteran soldier his extremely bent blank shield. A hoplon that would remain unpainted until Styxx proved himself worthy of a battle symbol.
    At the rate he was going, that would be never.
    Sick at the thought of what was waiting for him, Styxx placed his helm on the straw armor mannequin then moved to undress. He wiped another round of blood off his mouth with the back of his hand, before he licked the wound his father had given him.
    Galen paused a few feet away. “What did the king say to you?”
    “I’m to be whipped for my cowardice.”
    To his shock, Galen winced. “I should not have lost my temper with you, Highness.”
    Styxx snorted. “My enemies won’t hold back. Why should you?”
    Shaking his head, Galen’s gaze fell to Styxx’s arm as Styxx removed his bronze vambraces. “Sweet Hera!”
    Styxx looked down to see that his left arm was terribly swollen. It was now even larger than Galen’s massive forearms. The laces from the vambrace had left impressions so deep, bruises had already formed around them.
    “Did you re-break it?”
    Styxx clenched and unclenched his fist then rotated his wrist and bent his elbow. It hurt, but he had total mobility. “Nay. It’s fine. Just swollen from the fight.”
    “It must pain you and yet you act as if it doesn’t. How can you stand it?”
    “What can I say, Master Galen? The agony of my crushed testicles distracts my attention.”
    To his shock, Galen laughed for the first time since Styxx had met him. “Come, young prince. Let me help you out of your armor.”
    Styxx frowned as his trepidation rose. He wasn’t used to people being nice where he was concerned. It actually scared him. “Why are you being kind to me?”
    “Guilt, Highness. It’s a potent thing.”
    “Why should you have guilt?”
    “I have misjudged you, and I don’t do that often.”
    Styxx was even more confused than before.
    Galen placed his hand on Styxx’s shoulder in the manner of respect and solidarity. Only Acheron had ever touched him thus. “If you were the brat I had thought you to be, my lord, you’d be whining about how unfair it is that you’re to be punished later for my unwarranted attack. But it occurs to me in the last two years that I’ve been training you, you have never once complained nor cried foul about anything I have done to you during practice. Not even when I broke your arm.”
    “That was my fault. You told me not to hold my shield that way and I forgot.” Styxx glanced down at his arm, which was four times its usual size. “It’s a lesson I shan’t forget ever again.”
    Galen’s gray eyes softened. “As I said, Highness, if you were the royal brat, you wouldn’t think that. You’d still be blaming me for it and calling for my testicles on your gilded platter.” Galen unlaced Styxx’s cuirass and lifted it over his head then placed it on the mannequin for him.
    Unsure of what to say to that, Styxx untied his pteruges and handed it to Galen.
    His teacher grimaced at the swelling which was even more severe, and the bruising that was more prominent than before. “We should bind your arm.”
    Shaking his head, Styxx moved to unlace his greaves. “It would anger my father.”
    “How so?” Galen pulled Styxx’s white linen chiton and purple wool chlamys from where Styxx had stored them then placed them on the bench beside his foot.
    “He already considers me weak. If we bind it, he’ll think I’m doing it to postpone or lessen the severity of my punishment. Trust me, that won’t go well for me.”