Page 23 of Ivy & Bone

Prue raised her hand. “Tell me or I'll tie you up again.” It was a feeble bluff, especially if he had seen her fall to her knees earlier.

But the reminder was enough. Cyrus scowled again, his eyes darkening with fury. “Mortals can't see ghosts.”

“But the mortals in my village—”

“Are exposed to magic on a daily basis. The farther they are from that magical influence, the less they can see. By now, the glamour has probably taken effect and shielded their minds.”

Prue’s eyebrows lifted as she looked around the ship with a new perspective. The crew and passengers puttered about, unbothered by the presence of magic around them. And the spirits were equally unperturbed.

Relief filled Prue as she realized the souls and the mortals were completely ignorant of each other. And with Prue’s magic drained, she hopefully wouldn’t draw the ghosts’ attention.

“Thank the Goddess,” Prue breathed, sinking backward against the gunnel, allowing herself to relax for the first time in hours.

“The Goddess has nothing to do with it,” Cyrus snapped. “The glamour comes directly from my kingdom. The Underworld is what fuels that particular brand of magic.”

Prue only arched an eyebrow at him, too tired to even be irritated by his snobbery. Truth be told, she hadn’t known this, and it was fascinating information. But she wouldn’t tell him that.

A familiar copper-haired crewman approached, removing his hat and inclining his head politely toward the two of them. His name was Bernard, and Prue recognized him as a fisherman who often sold the most delicious bass in the market.

“I beg your pardon, but you two should probably go belowdecks, just to be safe.” He gestured to the thinning crowd as the families descended, no doubt eager to find a free cabin to sleep in for the night.

“Shit,” Prue blurted, then clamped her mouth shut. But a smile tugged at the corners of Bernard’s mouth. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Thanks, Bernard.”

She was so worried about what would happen when they crossed the barrier that she hadn’t even considered finding a place to sleep. By now all the more private cabins were probably filled. Despite how exhausted she was, she doubted she would be getting much sleep anyway. Between casting the summoning spell, binding herself to the god of the dead, finding out they were married, unleashing the souls of Acheron—again—and the prospect of seeing her sister alive in the flesh, Prue’s mind was racing with endless thoughts and questions. Her insides felt so agitated she thought they would spill from her and erupt on the ship.

But Cyrus was already attracting curious glances from those who remained on deck. Not to mention the spark of recognition in the eyes of those who identified her as the Maiden, followed quickly by hostility and distrust. Prue had no doubt they were wondering why she was abandoning her people and her village. That was certainly what it looked like. It was unheard of for someone blessed by the Triple Goddess to flee from the island.

Gritting her teeth against the blatant stares of those around them, Prue snatched Cyrus’s arm and hauled him belowdecks, ignoring his grumbling and idle threats. He stumbled down the stairs, struggling to keep up with her. The ship lurched suddenly, and she and Cyrus collided, slamming against the walls with a thud. Prue’s face pressed into his collarbone, and his chest smacked against hers.

In a flash, Cyrus gripped her shoulders and settled her a safe distance from him, as if her touch alone revolted him. She gave him an equally repulsed look, happy to part from the cold, unyielding stiffness of his body. Goddess, it was like he was made of stone. Well, perhaps he was. He certainly wasn’t human.

“This one will do,” Cyrus grunted, gesturing to the nearest cabin. He stormed inside, and a woman yelped at his unannounced entrance. “Out,” he commanded her.

“Cyrus!” Prue hissed, grabbing his arm and tugging him out of the room. “You can’t just order someone out of their room.”

“Why not? I’m the god of the Underworld and you’re the Maiden of your coven. Surely, our authority warrants the best of accommodations.”

Prue’s nostrils flared. “No. We aren’t throwing out helpless villagers just because you want a cozy bed for the night.”

“Prudence—”

Prue recoiled at the sound of her given name and cast a horrified look at Cyrus. “What did you call me?”

Cyrus only frowned. “Isn’t that your name?”

“It’s Prue. Just Prue.”

Cyrus nodded once. “Fine. Prue. I don’t give a damn about these people, and you don’t either. Don’t pretend otherwise,” he added when she opened her mouth to object.

Prue’s jaw tensed, her nostrils flaring. “Regardless, I don’t want to make a scene. I’m tired and I’ve fought enough battles today. If you want to throw people out of their cabins, be my guest. But I guarantee the crew will eventually intervene, and without your magic, I’m betting you won’t be able to fight off seven sailors at once.”

Cyrus’s brows lowered as he glared at her, his silvery eyes unsettling. Prue resisted the urge to drop her gaze under his scrutiny. A storm raged in his eyes, and before he could lash out at her, she guided him farther down until they reached an open space filled with hammocks. Several individuals were already getting comfortable, swinging to the rhythm of the swaying ship.

“Take your pick.” Prue gestured to the empty hammocks on the left side, striding toward one without preamble.

“Gods, this is abysmal.” Cyrus’s wrinkled nose made his face twist into something almost animal-like. The more he made that expression, the more he resembled less of a man and more of something like a warthog. Prue bit back a laugh at the thought.

The boat lurched again, and Cyrus’s arms flew out to meet the wall before he fell over. His face took on a greenish tint.

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