There was complete silence as the god looked slowly around the room taking in every detail. Even the king had stopped crying in expectation of the god's reaction.
Apollo didn't speak as he saw Ryssa lying dead in her father's arms and his son's lifeless body still in the arms of his savaged nurse.
"Who did this?" Apollo demanded through clenched teeth.
Styxx pointed to Acheron. "He let them die."
Before Acheron could think to deny those words, Apollo spun on him and hit him with his fist so hard that it lifted him from the ground and slammed him into the wall ten feet above the floor.
Acheron fell to the ground, his body aching. Apollo grabbed him by the hair and wrenched his head. Acheron tried to push him away, but his muscles were still too weak.
The god backhanded him. Blood and pain exploded as his nose was broken and his lips split. The god set on him with such fury that Acheron couldn't even recover from one blow before two more were delivered to him.
"Artemis!" Acheron shouted, needing her to help calm her brother.
"Don't you dare say my sister's name, you filthy whore!" Apollo grabbed a dagger from his waist and snatched at Acheron's tongue. He sliced it off.
Acheron choked on the blood that poured through his mouth. Unimaginable pain throbbed to the point all he could think was to try and crawl away from Apollo.
But Apollo grabbed him by the throat in a grip so searing it burned the god's handprint into his skin.
"Akri! Ni!" Xiamara's cries filled the room as she appeared above him and dove for Apollo. She knocked the god back from him and put herself between them.
"Out of my way, demon," Apollo demanded.
Her response was to launch herself at the god. The two of them tangled in a flurry of light and feathers as they pounded each other.
Tears filled Acheron's eyes as he fought against the pain that was trying to drag him into unconsciousness. His only thought to kill Apollo, he crawled to where the god's knife had fallen. His own blood coated the blade. With a fury born of grief and all the years where he'd been abused, Acheron seized it and spun on the combatants.
Ryssa had meant nothing to Apollo. No more than he meant to Artemis. His sister had loathed the god and now the bastard acted as if her death meant something to him.
It wasn't right and by the gods who'd birthed him, he wasn't going to let the god get away with attacking his mother's demon. His fury set fire to the blade, causing it to glow as he raced toward them.
Acheron set his gaze on Apollo and was oblivious to the fight. All he could focus on was stabbing the god through his callous heart. But just as he reached Apollo, the god knocked Xiamara back, into Acheron. She turned into him with eyes wide as his stomach shrank in the realization that Apollo had slammed the demon into the knife . . .
Acheron felt her blood coating his hand. Looking down at the wound, she staggered back with a small cry of pain. He wanted to say something to her, but without his tongue, it was impossible.
He grabbed her against him as she struggled to breathe.
She lifted a bloodied hand to place it to his cheek. "Apollymi loves you," she whispered in Charonte—a language he somehow understood even though he'd never heard it before. "Protect your mother, Apostolos. Be strong for her and for me . . ." Then the light faded from her eyes as her final breath left her body.
Acheron threw his head back and tried to vent the fury inside him. But it came out as a strangled cry. Grabbing the knife, he spun on Apollo.
Apollo caught his hand and wrested the knife from him. The god seized him again by the throat and threw him down to the ground. Acheron kicked him back and rolled to his side.
A shadow in the corner caught his eye. He froze as he saw Artemis standing there, watching the fight with her hands over her mouth. Her eyes were filled with horror.
Needing her, he reached a hand out toward her.
She shook her head no and took a step back, out of her brother's sight.
In that instant, something inside him died. Coldness filled every raw inch of his body.
Artemis refused to intervene. Even now when he was wounded and hurt more than any human should ever be hurt, his love wasn't enough. He didn't matter to her.
Tired, grief-stricken and defeated, he rolled over onto his back at the same time Apollo appeared before him. He met the god's angry glare. Growling in rage, Apollo sank his dagger deep inside Acheron's heart and sliced him open all the way to his navel.
Unmitigated agony burned through him as the god slowly gutted him on the floor, no more than three feet from Ryssa's body, and right there, before Artemis.
Tears fell from his eyes as the light and pain began to fade . . .
Artemis remained in the shadows, silently weeping as she watched her brother kick Acheron's dead body aside. It wasn't until Apollo approached the king on the bed that the king realized Styxx was also lying dead in the doorway.
Not that Artemis cared about the prince.