Page 24 of Ivy & Bone

Prue, already laying comfortably in her hammock, peered at him in curiosity. “You aren’t going to be sick, are you?”

“Of course not.” But Cyrus’s hollow voice betrayed his discomfort.

This time, Prue did laugh, and Cyrus shot her a glare. “We don’t have oceans in the Underworld,” he said defensively. “I am unaccustomed to sea travel.”

“Well, if you vomit, make sure it lands in the bucket over there.” Prue gestured to the opposite side of the room and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. She didn’t feel relaxed, but Cyrus didn’t have to know that.

Indeed, his snarl told her she was agitating him. She smiled. Good.

She listened to his awkward sounds with amusement. An “oof” indicated he had collapsed into a hammock, and his sharp intake of breath signaled he was quite uncomfortable with a bed in motion. Well, he would have to get used to it.

“How long will we be on this godsforsaken vessel?”

“The Salwaki Islands are about a day’s journey from here. We’ll stop there, then continue onward toward Voula City, which is another day.”

“Hmm.”

Prue opened one eye to look at him. “What?”

“When I looked at your map, it seemed there was a more direct route. Through the Manos Sea.”

Prue raised her eyebrows, unable to hide how impressed she was at his memory. “Yes . . . if you want to get caught in the whirlpool.”

“Whirlpool?”

“Yes, it’s like a spinning vortex of death that will swallow anyone and anything.”

“I know what a whirlpool is.”

Prue smirked again. “Just checking.”

“Even so, I’m a god and cannot be killed by mortal means. And you are the Maiden. Surely, between the two of us, we have enough magic to navigate safely through a simple whirlpool.”

Prue’s smile melted into a scowl. “I’m not sending a ship full of innocent humans to their deaths just for our convenience.”

“Why not? I can assure you they’ll be well taken care of after they die.” Cyrus flashed a mischievous grin.

Prue scoffed. “You’re a bastard.”

“Probably. I never met my mother.”

Prue blinked, and Cyrus did, too, as if he hadn’t intended to reveal this truth about himself. Thank the Goddess for that truth spell, Prue thought. If she had to suffer his company and his lies, she might just jump overboard.

“I never met my father, either,” Prue said shortly before leaning her head back and shutting her eyes again.

“Why?”

“He wasn’t a witch. He was just a man who sired witches. A nobody.” Prue kept her tone even and refused to open her eyes, even as her gut twisted from the words. She’d asked her mother on multiple occasions who her father had been, but Polina had claimed he’d been a soldier passing through on a long journey and she’d never seen him again. When Prue prodded her for more answers, Polina brushed them off. It was her magical heritage that mattered, not the male seed that had created her. Polina had always believed men to be less than nothing; an irritant to endure on Gaia’s great earth. Nothing more than flies to swat at.

Prue knew witches were powerful and important, but she’d never go as far as saying men were worthless.

Mercifully, Cyrus said nothing as the ship continued on, rocking with the lapping waves underneath them. Prue’s eyelids felt so heavy, and the motion was soothing, reminding her of childhood journeys with Polina, Sybil, and Mona. Her limbs ached with such intensity she thought she could sleep through an entire day. The thought sounded wonderful.

Just before she drifted off, she thought of Mona—was her spirit safe? Would Prue see her ghost again? But she supposed it didn’t matter. Soon, Prue would resurrect Mona, which would be so much better than the frail echo of Mona’s spirit.

With that hopeful thought, Prue fell into a deep sleep.

Mona was screaming. Crying out for her. Prue reached for her sister, but Mona’s shouts faded. Frantic, Prue scrambled forward, arms outstretched . . .

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