Read Online Styxx (DH #33) by Sherrilyn Kenyon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sherrilyn Kenyon
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would be furious. A king must sacrifice for the good of his people. It would always be expected of him.
He looked up at Master Praxis. “The good of the many is always better than the good of the few.” Still, he really loved his fibula.
His sister not so much.
Styxx fingered the brooch that was his sole piece of grown-up adornment.
We must spoil our women, boy. A happy woman makes a happy home. An unhappy one makes us drink.
His stomach aching for the loss, Styxx nodded and unpinned his brooch. He handed it and his coins over to the jeweler, who had his apprentice box the gift.
“She will be thrilled, Highness,” Claudius said.
Master Praxis appeared as thrilled about the purchase as Styxx did.
“Thank you.” Styxx took the hair combs and left.
Master Praxis followed him outside. “Would you like me to walk home with you, Highness?”
“Yes, please. Thank you, Master Praxis.”
And while they walked, his tutor went over the philosophy lesson that had been suspended for the day so that Styxx could attend his other duties.
By the time they reached the palace, his father was waiting for him in the foyer with a glower on his face that wrenched Styxx’s stomach hard. “Where is your valet?”
“I sent him back early.”
“And look at you. Out in public … an embarrassment to me.” His father snatched Styxx’s chlamys where Styxx was holding it in place with his hand. “Where’s your fibula I gave you?”
Styxx exchanged a glance with Master Praxis and begged him with his eyes not to tell his father what he’d done. To know Styxx had bartered with a merchant like some penniless fishmonger would only anger his father more. “It’s lost, Father.”
“Lost!” His father cursed. “Get upstairs and put yourself in order.”
Styxx headed up the steps to find Ryssa smirking in the hallway. He wanted to throw the gift at her.
But the cost for it was too dear.
Styxx ignored her and went to his room where the valet was waiting to snatch him around and “accidentally” pinch and bruise him while he righted Styxx’s attire.
Tsking over the missing brooch, his valet dug the old tin childhood fibula out of Styxx’s wooden chest. The valet had just returned the chlamys to its proper drape when his father joined them.
“Leave us.”
Styxx held his breath in fear of his father’s sharp tone.
“Since you’ve proven yourself so irresponsible, I’m sending your birthday gift back to the merchant. There’s no need in giving you anything until you learn to appreciate the cost of things.”
Styxx opened his mouth to protest then caught himself. His father wouldn’t listen. “Yes, Father.”
“Master Praxis is in your study. I suggest you don’t keep him waiting.”
Taking care not to run because only peasants did so, Styxx went to his room down the hall where his tutor sat with a stern glower.
“Why didn’t you tell your father what happened to your fibula, prince?”
Because a lost brooch would cost Styxx a birthday present. A bartered one would mean a harsh beating. “Only peasants barter. He would have been furious had he learned that I went shopping without sufficient coin.”
“That was hardly insufficient, Highness. The cost was extravagant and I’m baffled why you didn’t get her something else.”
Styxx let out a weary breath of frustration as he explained his dilemma to his tutor. “Had my father gone in to buy them—which he would have, given Ryssa’s propensity for extreme nagging—and been told that I passed on them for something less expensive even though Ryssa had clearly and dearly wanted them—which Claudius would tell him he told me—I would have been in a lot more trouble. While my father expects and accepts that Ryssa will have to ask about purchasing jewelry, it’s not acceptable for me to do so. A prince must always be seen as affluent and respectable. This,” he pointed to his cheap fibula, “was the lesser evil.”
His brow furrowed, Master Praxis
He looked up at Master Praxis. “The good of the many is always better than the good of the few.” Still, he really loved his fibula.
His sister not so much.
Styxx fingered the brooch that was his sole piece of grown-up adornment.
We must spoil our women, boy. A happy woman makes a happy home. An unhappy one makes us drink.
His stomach aching for the loss, Styxx nodded and unpinned his brooch. He handed it and his coins over to the jeweler, who had his apprentice box the gift.
“She will be thrilled, Highness,” Claudius said.
Master Praxis appeared as thrilled about the purchase as Styxx did.
“Thank you.” Styxx took the hair combs and left.
Master Praxis followed him outside. “Would you like me to walk home with you, Highness?”
“Yes, please. Thank you, Master Praxis.”
And while they walked, his tutor went over the philosophy lesson that had been suspended for the day so that Styxx could attend his other duties.
By the time they reached the palace, his father was waiting for him in the foyer with a glower on his face that wrenched Styxx’s stomach hard. “Where is your valet?”
“I sent him back early.”
“And look at you. Out in public … an embarrassment to me.” His father snatched Styxx’s chlamys where Styxx was holding it in place with his hand. “Where’s your fibula I gave you?”
Styxx exchanged a glance with Master Praxis and begged him with his eyes not to tell his father what he’d done. To know Styxx had bartered with a merchant like some penniless fishmonger would only anger his father more. “It’s lost, Father.”
“Lost!” His father cursed. “Get upstairs and put yourself in order.”
Styxx headed up the steps to find Ryssa smirking in the hallway. He wanted to throw the gift at her.
But the cost for it was too dear.
Styxx ignored her and went to his room where the valet was waiting to snatch him around and “accidentally” pinch and bruise him while he righted Styxx’s attire.
Tsking over the missing brooch, his valet dug the old tin childhood fibula out of Styxx’s wooden chest. The valet had just returned the chlamys to its proper drape when his father joined them.
“Leave us.”
Styxx held his breath in fear of his father’s sharp tone.
“Since you’ve proven yourself so irresponsible, I’m sending your birthday gift back to the merchant. There’s no need in giving you anything until you learn to appreciate the cost of things.”
Styxx opened his mouth to protest then caught himself. His father wouldn’t listen. “Yes, Father.”
“Master Praxis is in your study. I suggest you don’t keep him waiting.”
Taking care not to run because only peasants did so, Styxx went to his room down the hall where his tutor sat with a stern glower.
“Why didn’t you tell your father what happened to your fibula, prince?”
Because a lost brooch would cost Styxx a birthday present. A bartered one would mean a harsh beating. “Only peasants barter. He would have been furious had he learned that I went shopping without sufficient coin.”
“That was hardly insufficient, Highness. The cost was extravagant and I’m baffled why you didn’t get her something else.”
Styxx let out a weary breath of frustration as he explained his dilemma to his tutor. “Had my father gone in to buy them—which he would have, given Ryssa’s propensity for extreme nagging—and been told that I passed on them for something less expensive even though Ryssa had clearly and dearly wanted them—which Claudius would tell him he told me—I would have been in a lot more trouble. While my father expects and accepts that Ryssa will have to ask about purchasing jewelry, it’s not acceptable for me to do so. A prince must always be seen as affluent and respectable. This,” he pointed to his cheap fibula, “was the lesser evil.”
His brow furrowed, Master Praxis
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