Page 61 of Ivy & Bone

“Same as you, brother,” Vasileios said. “I bound myself to this witch . . . through marriage.”

“No!” The word was strangled, like it was wrenched from Prue’s throat by force. She staggered forward, her face stricken with horror. Around them, the soldiers shifted, clearly uneasy with her movements.

Cyrus needed to gain control of the situation. Now. Prue was in no shape to play Vasileios’s game, so he had to play for the two of them. He had to.

Bury everything, he told himself, schooling his features into something neutral and unfeeling. Bury it so far deep that it can’t rise again. Down, down, down he shoved his anger and his shock until it sank like a heavy weight at the bottom of his chest, leaving nothing but a hollow emptiness in its wake. With a deep breath, he fixed his gaze on his brother once more.

“How?” he asked again, his voice more level now. “Mona died. She sealed her fate with blood, bound to the Book of Eyes.”

Beside him, Prue flinched, but Cyrus ignored her. Keep it buried. Keep it all buried.

“Ah, yes, but many mortals died that day, did they not?” Vasileios’s gaze slid to Prue, a hungry glint gleaming in his silver eyes.

Something roared in Cyrus’s chest as his brother stared openly at Prue, at his wife, but with all his strength, he shoved those emotions down. Bury everything, he reminded himself. It cannot resurface. Not now.

“Perhaps if you had been more attentive to the rivers, you would have noticed,” Vasileios went on. “Another mortal perished at the same time Pomona did. A lowly villager. But I saw Pomona’s soul for what it was: a rare treasure indeed. I caught the pair of souls just before they moved on . . . and I swapped them. The villager’s soul paid the price to the Book of Eyes, and Pomona’s was freed. It was as if she suffered only a mortal death. And, for us gods, a mortal death is easy to circumvent.”

“You swapped the souls?” Cyrus repeated slowly. He shook his head. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s not,” Vasileios snapped, his eyes flaring. His expression cleared, but not before Cyrus caught that familiar echo of indignation, of anger and resentment. In that moment, Cyrus saw himself: someone desperate to prove himself worthy and capable, frustrated by everyone underestimating him.

It was alarming seeing such emotions in Vasileios, the former heir, the oldest prince of Hell, beloved by Aidoneus.

The thought sent a strange sense of calmness washing over Cyrus, and he found himself smirking. “Does Father know?”

The stiffness in Vasileios’s jaw was answer enough. Aidoneus did not know. How interesting . . .

Prue inhaled a shuddering breath. Cyrus chanced a glance her way and found tears streaming down her face.

Before Vasileios could notice, Cyrus pulled his brother’s attention back to himself. “And here I was, under the impression you and Father were conspiring against me. I’m sure he’d be very interested to know you have your own agenda.” Cyrus spread his arms, gesturing to the soldiers at large. “You’ve amassed yourself a mortal army! I must say I’m impressed.”

“You’d be surprised what a well-placed glamour can do,” Vasileios said. “One spark of my magic—combined with Pomona’s, of course—and this whole kingdom now believes me to be its rightful ruler.”

Coldness seeped into Cyrus’s chest at the implication. Gods, the sheer power that spell must’ve required . . . Uncertainty crept into his thoughts. He’d doubted Vasileios’s words before, but could it be true? Could Mona truly be alive . . . and bound to Vasileios?

He shot a quick glance at Mona, but the witch’s face was as blank as before. Completely expressionless. She looked more like a porcelain doll than anything alive.

The sight of her like this made Cyrus’s skin prickle. Something was very . . . off about her.

“What need have you of a mortal kingdom?” Cyrus asked, though his mind was spinning with thoughts. If Vasileios has Mona’s magic, how can I overpower him? What is the state of the Underworld? If he’s here, does that mean it’s been destroyed?

Vasileios rose from his throne, his cape sweeping behind him as he descended the dais to stand in front of Cyrus. Cyrus’s fingers itched to claw at him, to strike him while he was so near, but he balled his hands into fists to contain his rage.

“Consider this my challenge to you, brother,” Vasileios said softly. “I challenge you for the throne to the Underworld. If you do not surrender, then I will make my home here and wage war on your precious mortal realm.”

Cyrus remained perfectly still, his mind spinning as he processed this. How was he supposed to reach the gate to the Underworld with Vasileios and an army of soldiers standing in his way? He had to think fast. “What makes you think I would care if you destroyed this realm?”

Vasileios snorted, shaking his head in amusement. “You cannot fool me, Cyrus. I know you are bound to this realm, just as you are bound to this witch.” He gestured to Prue, and Cyrus’s chest burned hot once more. Thankfully, Vasileios seemed uninterested with Prue, because he turned back to face his brother. A small crease formed between his eyebrows. “In fact, I’m rather puzzled as to why you haven’t completed the bond. Is she not to your liking?”

Vasileios glanced at Prue again, his gaze calculating as it roved up and down her body. Slowly.

“Stop it,” Cyrus barked, stepping closer to his brother.

Vasileios’s eyes glinted, and Cyrus knew he’d shown his hand. Shit. “Don’t tell me you’ve developed feelings for her . . .” Vasileios chuckled. “I would’ve thought you’d learned after last time. How long before this one betrays you, too?” He leaned closer to whisper conspiratorially, “Just take her and be done with it. You can dispose of her afterward.”

Cyrus’s restraint snapped. With a roar of fury, he lunged, swinging his fist into Vasileios’s jaw, then his gut. The gold crown crashed to the floor, the sound reverberating off the walls. Cyrus wrapped his hands around his brother’s throat, his grip tightening until Vasileios’s face turned red, then purple.

An explosion of black magic slammed into Cyrus’s chest, sending him flying backward. He tumbled to the floor and swung around, easily righting himself to charge at Vasileios again.

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