Page 54 of Ivy & Bone

But, of course, that was too good to be true. Mona was already dead and belonged to the Underworld now. Prue was half-dead and belonged . . . where?

“Can’t I go with you?” Prue asked.

The prince of Hell barked out a laugh. “You belong to my brother now, witch. And he never lets go of what’s rightfully his.”

“I belong to no one,” Prue spat.

The prince only shot her a look of disdain, his nose wrinkling as if she smelled like horseshit.

Mona took Prue’s hand, squeezing her fingers insistently. “You have to tell Cyrus.” Her words were rushed. “Warn him. He has to know—”

“That’s enough,” the prince snarled, wrenching Mona away from Prue. “We’re leaving now.”

“Mona!” Prue shouted, but her sister’s form was already fading, becoming more and more transparent.

“I love you, Prue! Please remember! And tell him—”

Prue’s eyes flew open, and a slice of pain tore through her skull as if her brain had been ripped free. “Oh,” she moaned, raising a hand to her temple. She stiffened when she noticed her hand was coated in blood. “Goddess above . . .”

“Prue!” A wooden chair groaned against the floor, and a man hurried over to her, his eyes wide with alarm. Prue almost didn’t recognize him—he looked so serious and anxious and . . . human.

But it was definitely him. Cyrus. Between the inky tattoos and the silver hair and the horns protruding from his head, Prue knew it was him, despite the foreign look of terror on his face.

“What—what happened?” Prue’s tongue tasted like sawdust, and the splitting pain in her head persisted. She blinked blearily, taking in her surroundings. She was in a small, cramped kitchen and lying on a dining table, which did nothing for her massive headache. The area was cluttered and filled with books, papers, and all sorts of medical instruments.

“You fell on the mountain pass. I healed you, but . . .” Cyrus shook his head. “It wasn’t enough. Something else had you trapped, so I brought you to a local healer.”

Well, that explained the strange, cluttered house. But one word snagged on her mind: trapped. She blinked as a dozen images crossed her mind. A beach. The sand between her toes. Mona’s smile. And a tall, black-haired figure.

Prue snatched Cyrus’s arm, her eyes widening. “Cyrus. Your brother has Mona.”

Cyrus stilled, his eyes searching hers for a moment as if trying to discern the truth in her gaze. Then, his expression darkened, and he morphed into the savage god Prue knew him to be. “Which one?” he growled.

“I don’t know.” Prue’s mouth twisted as she struggled to recall his face. But the memories in her mind were so foggy and sluggish. A side effect of being between worlds. But she was a witch, dammit, and she should be able to remember!

Understanding crept into Cyrus’s eyes as if he knew why she struggled to recall details. He drew closer and asked, “Did he have short or long hair?”

“Long. But shorter than yours.”

“Black hair? Or silver?”

“Mostly black. One streak of silver.”

“Horns?”

“Yes, but they were small. And black.”

Rage burned in his eyes, and his throat rumbled with a feral snarl. “Vasileios.”

Prue’s mouth went dry. “Who?”

“My oldest brother. The former heir to the throne of the Underworld. He’s the one who has your sister.”

TRUST

CYRUS

Cyrus couldn’t think past the thunder roaring in his ears. Red crept into his vision as he thought of Vasileios threatening Prue.

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