Page 34 of Ivy & Bone

Had it been Mona?

Prue blinked, suddenly waking from her stupor as she caught Cyrus staring at her. “I—” She broke off, as if changing her mind about speaking.

“What is it?” Cyrus tried to put as much softness in his voice as he could muster.

Prue took a breath, paused, and then tried again. “Is something . . . wrong in the Underworld?”

Cyrus went perfectly still, though his chest thrummed in response. His throat closed, and he couldn’t speak or breathe for a moment. After swallowing hard, he managed, “What makes you say that?”

Prue bit her lip again and dropped her gaze.

Cyrus tried another approach. He took a step closer to the bed and dropped to his knees so they were at eye level. “Prue, that’s my home. If you know something, I beg of you to tell me.” Did it have to do with Aidoneus poisoning Acheron? Was it worse? What else were his father and brothers up to?

He thought of Vasileios, his oldest brother—the one he had stolen the throne from. If anyone had a right to hate Cyrus, it was Vasileios. How far would he go to take his revenge on Cyrus?

Prue stared at him, her eyes shining. Shock crossed her face as she glanced over him, kneeling before her. “You’re . . . begging me?” A touch of amusement filled her voice.

Cyrus suppressed a groan. Of course she would take this moment to tease him. “It’s my home,” he said again.

Prue’s humor faded, and she nodded in understanding. Cyrus knew she thought of her own village being terrorized by ghosts. Certainly a sobering thought. With a deep breath, Prue said, “My sister’s ghost visited me last night. In a dream.”

Cyrus’s skin prickled, and an echo of his magic pulsed inside him as if responding to the knowledge that a spirit had indeed been here. A million questions raced through his mind, but he forced himself to ask, “What did she look like?”

“A transparent version of my sister.” Prue’s voice sounded incredulous.

Of course. Cyrus forgot that to mere mortals, spirits looked different. To him, they were orbs. But they could manifest themselves into different forms depending on the sight of the beholder. “And . . . did she do or say anything?”

Prue wet her lips and dropped her gaze, wringing her hands together on the bed. But she didn’t answer.

Cyrus tried a different question. “Prue, has she visited you before?”

Slowly, Prue nodded.

Shit. “How long? How long has this been happening?”

Prue looked up at the alarm in his voice. “I—I don’t know. A few weeks? Maybe a month?”

Cyrus ran a hand through his hair, his fingers grazing over his horns. Gods, this was bad. This was very bad.

“What?” Prue demanded. “Cyrus, what does this mean?”

“It means something is wrong with the Underworld. If your sister’s spirit is still here, then she didn’t pass over as she should have. Either something is broken in the rivers of Hell, or . . . something is wrong with your sister’s soul.” He didn’t want to tell her what he knew—that Acheron was already broken, if not destroyed. Was that why Mona’s spirit was visiting Prue? Because of what Aidoneus had done?

Was this Cyrus’s fault? If his father hadn’t been trying to overthrow him, this wouldn’t have happened.

Prue jumped to her feet, her hair wild and massive around her head. Her eyes grew wide, and her face drained of color. “W-what? My sister’s soul? What does that mean? How do we fix it? I—I—”

Her face crumpled, and Cyrus couldn’t stop himself. He closed the distance between them, then faltered. What was he about to do? Embrace her? The thought was absurd. Already half-committed to the idea, he settled with placing his hands on her shoulders instead, which shook with trembling sobs. This fierce, stubborn, powerful witch seemed broken before him, and he couldn’t stand it. He would much prefer she yell or throw insults at him. But not this. His insides twisted at the sight of her. His throat tightened, his chest constricting as if he couldn’t breathe.

Why did he feel like this? Perhaps he was simply horrified by her pathetic show of weakness. Disgusted, really. That was all. That was why he wanted to put a stop to it. Nothing more.

His thumbs traced circles along her shoulders, the motion almost unconscious, as he said softly, “We will fix this. We are heading to the gate already. We can’t do anything about it in this realm, but once we are there, we can fix this. I promise.”

Prue covered her face with her hands and wept further. Between sobs, she whispered, “She s-said . . . the Underworld is d-dying. And she’s . . . fading.”

Panic welled in Cyrus’s chest. His home was dying? “What else did she say?”

Quickly, Prue filled him in on all her sister had spoken the night before, though it hadn’t been much. But Cyrus’s attention snagged on one thing: they are toying with forces that should not be meddled with. His brothers were indeed destroying their home just to punish Cyrus. They were willing to go that far.

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