Page 26 of Ivy & Bone

He nodded grimly. “The price of power is great, as I told you.”

“But . . . why? Why would you do that? I mean, you seem to really detest this place.” Prue spread her arms at the ocean around them. “So why would you bind yourself here?”

Cyrus’s eyes darkened. “You do not understand what I endured to get where I am. The shame and humiliation of being the youngest of six powerful princes of Hell. The mockery and torment of knowing they would never respect me. That my own father would never acknowledge me.”

Prue stilled at his words, and something twisted inside her chest. Surely, it wasn’t sympathy for this monster. But . . . perhaps it was. “Wait. Hang on. You’re the youngest? And somehow you’re the god of the Underworld?” When Cyrus nodded, she sputtered, “But . . . your father? Your brothers? Are they. . .”

“They are still gods, yes. But I have the authority of the throne.”

Prue frowned as she considered this. Goddess, six princes of Hell? She couldn’t imagine . . .

“It’s your turn.” Cyrus arched an eyebrow at her, though the shadows hadn’t fully left his eyes. “What happened before?”

Damn. Truth be told, Prue was hoping he’d refuse to reveal anything about the Book of Eyes so she wouldn’t have to answer. She sighed, facing the bow of the ship once more. If she stared, unfocused, at the dark, lapping waves bathed in moonlight, maybe she could pretend she was somewhere else.

“I don’t know how the Book of Eyes was opened the first time,” she admitted. “The Crone of our coven unlocked it somehow. We think the book itself lured her to do it. It seems to have a mind of its own. And when the darkness within was unleashed, it was . . . black as night. Different from the white spirits we saw yesterday. It seeped into the earth like ink and blood. It possessed people, taking over them completely until they were nothing more than husks.” She took a shuddering breath. “Only when a blood sacrifice was offered—my sister—did it finally stop.”

Cyrus remained quiet as she spoke. When silence fell between them, Prue focused on the rushing water beneath her, willing it to drown out the memories of screams and terror from that horrible night.

At long last, Cyrus said, “That is strange.”

Prue’s eyebrows knitted together. She’d just revealed the nature of her sister’s death, and all he could say was that it was strange? Well, she shouldn’t be entirely surprised. What did she expect from him, sympathy? The idea made her want to laugh.

“What is?” Her voice was harsher than she’d intended.

“I think you’re right that the book has a mind of its own,” he said. “I only encountered it once. But it seems in the three instances when it’s been used—granting my power, terrorizing your village, and summoning me—it performs differently. I never saw black magic pooling from it as you described. But I have seen spirits possess humans. I wonder . . .” He broke off, rubbing his chin, his silvery eyes contemplative.

“What?” Prue asked, genuinely curious.

“I wonder if, each time it’s opened, it infuses itself with souls.” He met her gaze. “All the souls that are lost, that are possessed or obliterated . . . What if the book absorbs them? What if those souls fuel the magic in the book? The magic . . . in me?”

MURANE

CYRUS

Prue hadn’t said anything about Cyrus’s speculation. She’d merely looked at him with haunted eyes, accusation blaring in her gaze, before stalking off. Cyrus, however, preferred solitude to the company of mortals—especially that nuisance of a witch—so he remained above deck, enjoying the breeze and the crashing waves around him.

He hadn’t wanted to share his speculation with Prue . . . but he needed her to trust him. Because he knew exactly what the marriage bond entailed. If they consummated their bond, Cyrus would access her powers, too.

And then he could take back the throne to the Underworld once and for all. He would have plenty of power to counteract what Aidoneus had done to Acheron. Prue was an earth witch, after all; she possessed the magic of life. If Aidoneus had poisoned the river, intent on killing the life within it, then Prue’s magic would be able to restore it.

If he had to bed Prue in order to access her magic, then fine. He had bedded far worse and far uglier. But first, he had to gain her trust—because he absolutely refused to take her by force. Monster that he was, even he wouldn’t lower himself to such a level. Earning the witch’s trust was a slow game, a manipulation—one he’d fallen victim to once before. Playing the role of the deceiver left a foul taste in his mouth. But he had to. He had to save his home. Whatever the cost.

He shuddered at the thought of making love to the earth witch. But then, as his thoughts wandered, the shudder turned into something else. Something wilder. He pictured her nude, which wasn’t hard to imagine given her curves and the size of her breasts. He imagined the sounds he could elicit from her, how she would moan as he caressed between her legs, coaxing raw and feral pleasure out of her . . .

Cyrus suddenly blinked, finding himself out of breath. His cock strained within his trousers, responding to his strange fantasy. Gritting his teeth, he ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, struggling to calm his thoughts.

He was being absurd. Bedding the witch would bring him no pleasure at all. It had just been far too long since his last dalliance. That was all.

Still. He couldn’t shove away the tiny, minuscule part of him that wanted to consummate his marriage with Prue. If only to see what it would be like. She was powerful. What would that power be like, manifesting itself against him? Through him?

Just after dawn broke, the ship docked at the Salwaki Islands, a bustling port filled with ships, merchants, and traders. Some of the crew disembarked to exchange goods, but Cyrus remained aboard, glowering toward the sea and the destination that loomed ahead.

A few hours later, the ship was in motion again. He didn’t bother trying to track down Prue. Between their bond, her earth magic, and the concoction her mother had forced him to drink, he knew he couldn’t escape her for long, so he saw this temporary absence as a blessing. He already tired of her company after a single day. He couldn’t imagine enduring her for the several days it would take them to arrive in Faidon.

And he was supposed to woo this infuriating witch, too. Gods, the mere thought of it . . .

Cyrus knew his mortal form didn’t require rest or sustenance, but it was still unpleasant. His body felt fatigued and his insides hollowed. He munched on an apple, practically gagging with each bite, only because he knew he would function better with food on his stomach. He even forced himself to sway in that ridiculous hammock for a few hours, wondering if his body would eventually grow weary enough for sleep. He had never slept, not even during his first journey here. There hadn’t been time. But he had no doubt this wretched place would alter him somehow if he stayed for too long.

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