Page 81 of Ivy & Bone

Prue barked out a harsh laugh. “You think my mother is Gaia? You’re insane!”

“Prue,” Cyrus murmured, his voice a soft warning.

With that one simple utterance, Cyrus rendered Prue frozen and speechless. That soft admonition spoke volumes.

Cyrus believed his brother.

He believed Gaia was her mother.

And he was warning her to keep quiet before she made things worse.

Goddess, was everyone here insane?

But even as Prue thought the words, her memory snagged on something. The image of her mother, summoning witch fire with ease. Her flawless healing spell when Prue had broken her leg. How she performed the banishment without any difficulty at all, even though it left Prue and Beatrice breathless and exhausted. How utterly powerful that banishment had been, securing a barrier around the entire island. At the time, Prue hadn’t questioned it; she’d only been grateful her village had been protected. But now, it seemed clear to her that Polina had power. An abundance of power. Too much power for one witch.

Something sharp cut into Prue’s palm, and she yelped, jerking her hand away. When she inspected it, she found a dribble of blood oozing from a small slice in her hand. Shocked, she gazed up at Cyrus in accusation. His eyes were grim, his expression full of regret.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But I have to know if it’s the truth.”

“Cyrus—” She gaped at him, stunned.

“Gaia has the power to destroy the entire Underworld with a single thought,” Cyrus whispered, his voice laced with urgency. “It’s my home.”

Betrayal coursed through her, swift and deep, as Cyrus stepped toward his brother, extending his hand. Two drops of Prue’s blood glistened on his fingertips.

Prue’s chest caved inward with dread and hurt. Vasileios exhaled in relief before withdrawing a handkerchief to absorb the blood. Then, he pressed a dagger into Mona’s hand.

“Don’t!” Prue shrieked, reaching for her sister, but it was too late.

Mona didn’t even flinch as blood dribbled down her fingers. Vasileios carefully gathered the droplets into the handkerchief, mingling them with Prue’s blood.

Prue couldn’t breathe. All she could do was watch in horror as Vasileios muttered something in an ancient language she couldn’t understand. Smoke wafted from the handkerchief, filling the air with the charred smell of death magic. Energy swirled around them, tickling Prue’s senses as her third eye started to burn.

Coils of black smoke seeped from the ground, swirling into a massive whirlwind. Prue’s eyes stung from the intensity of it, but she forced her eyes to remain open. She had to see. She had to . . .

From within the smoke emerged a figure. Gradually, the dark vapor dissipated, revealing a woman Prue had thought she’d known so well . . . A woman who had spent decades lying to her daughters. She looked exactly the same, save for the strange golden glow emanating from her eyes, making them look bronze instead of their usual blue.

It was Polina. Or rather, Gaia—the earth goddess.

GAIA

CYRUS

Cyrus felt Prue’s hand go slack in his grip as they both stared at the woman—the goddess—standing before them. Polina was the same as Cyrus remembered on that tiny island of Krenia . . . and yet she was different. There was a strange glow about her face as if she held the light of the sun within her skin. Her blue eyes were sharp like chips of glass that could cut right through him. And her curly hair whipped around her face like a fearsome mane.

Seeing Polina like this, Cyrus wondered how he hadn’t known right away that Prue was the daughter of a goddess. That same fire burned in Prue’s eyes. So many features were shared between the two witches, and now that it was staring him in the face, Cyrus loathed himself for not sensing it sooner.

Polina—Gaia—glanced around, her steely eyes scrutinizing the scene. Her gaze flicked from Cyrus to Prue, then to Vasileios and Mona, her expression revealing nothing. Cyrus held perfectly still, waiting to see what she would do; how she would react to being summoned. Would she attempt to maintain her guise as a simple coven witch? Beside him, Prue remained frozen as well, though he knew it was more from shock than anything else.

The longer the silence stretched on, the more Cyrus’s dark power raged inside him, demanding to be unleashed. He had never experienced such raw, untethered chaos from his magic before. Usually he could leash it, keeping it contained, but the more it thrashed, the more his vision blurred, threatening to go dark completely. He could only attribute it to the presence of a goddess before him, though a small part of him knew this couldn’t be the reason his magic was misbehaving; after all, he had been in Polina’s presence before and his magic hadn’t reacted this way.

Then again, he hadn’t fully bonded with Prue at that point. Perhaps this was a reaction to her magic.

At long last, Gaia lifted her chin, her eyes flashing. “Which one of you summoned me?” Her voice was commanding and regal. Cyrus remembered that about her; how she emanated such power and authority.

“Mama?” Prue breathed in a broken voice, her eyes moist and full of shock and betrayal. Cyrus’s chest twisted at the sight, knowing he’d played his part in that betrayal. Even if he hadn’t actively opposed her, he’d seen the look of hurt on her face when he’d sided with Vasileios.

Gaia turned her steady gaze to Prue, her expression still cold and impassive. “I’m sorry, daughter.”

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