Page 1 of Thorn & Ash

PROLOGUE

PRUE

The shackles clanged along the cavern wall, grating against Prue’s ears. Her wrist ached, now raw and blistered from her useless attempts to free herself.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been chained up in this dank cave, but it felt like days. The darkness pressed in on her, making her wonder if she was actually alive or if she was rotting away in Hell itself. Had she died, and this was her eternal punishment? She couldn’t make out any of her surroundings but the cold, moistened stone beneath her and the rock wall at her back, to which her chains were attached.

Occasionally, a horned or scaled demon brought her a plate of stale bread. The first few times, Prue peppered them with questions, desperate to know where Cyrus was and when she could see him. But every time, the demons were stoic and silent, refusing to respond to her. Once they deposited her food, they left without a word.

Prue wasn’t sure why they bothered feeding her. It was clear Cyrus wanted nothing to do with her. She’d been a means to an end. He’d only needed her to provide passage to the Underworld.

Now that she had, he had no use for her anymore.

So, why was she still alive?

Her mind was too numb with fatigue and hunger to properly put the pieces together, but she had to try. She couldn’t believe Cyrus had deceived and betrayed her now that they’d finally crossed into the Underworld together. As cruel as he could be, she didn’t think him capable of putting on an act for that long—during all their travels across the mortal realm, through everything they had fought for.

No, something had changed during the attack with Gaia and Vasileios. She’d noticed it in the strange murkiness of his eyes, lacking their usual luster and brilliance that captivated her so easily.

This was not her Cyrus. This was… something else.

Footsteps echoed nearby, and Prue stiffened, sitting up straighter, the chain scraping against the rocky wall. She expected another demon servant bringing her sustenance, but to her surprise, it was Cyrus himself. He wore a long black cloak with a matching dark tunic underneath, gold buckles gleaming from his belt. A dagger was sheathed at his waist, and atop his head was a crown made of bones.

He looked positively regal. And terrifying.

A shiver swept over her as his dull, muddied gray eyes locked onto her. Her dress was torn and dirty, and she hadn’t bathed in days. She probably smelled awful.

Good. Maybe her foul stench would bring him back to his senses.

“Why not just kill me?” Prue spat. If Cyrus was truly himself, she would demand answers from him. She was tired of waiting. “Why keep me here?”

Cyrus cocked his head at her, his expression unsettlingly blank. He resembled a bird of prey assessing its next meal, and it made her shudder all over again. “You are of no use to me dead.”

“What use am I alive? I won’t be your plaything, if that’s what you think.”

Cyrus laughed, flashing his teeth, but the sound was harsh and cold. “No. Trust me when I say I won’t be getting any closer to you than I am now.” Something flashed in his eyes, and if Prue hadn’t been staring in horror at his irises, she might not have noticed.

For the briefest of seconds, it was a flash of silver. A glimpse of the Cyrus she used to know.

She frowned, scooting closer, and he took the tiniest fraction of a step backward. Again, so subtle, she might have missed it.

Interesting. Not only was he afraid of touching her, for some reason, but at the mention of toying with her body, the real Cyrus emerged for half a second.

“Are you afraid of me?” she taunted, unable to help herself.

In a flash, Cyrus stood before her, his hand gripping her neck. She gasped, her lungs straining, her body going stiff under his unrelenting grasp.

“I fear no one,” he snarled. His fingers squeezed, making her throat burn, before he released her and stepped back, his face a mask of fury.

She had struck a nerve. That much was clear. She rubbed her neck, her throat on fire. Each swallow felt like hot knives raking along her insides, making her shudder in agony.

But she wouldn’t give up. She’d provoked him somehow. This was progress.

“Why are you here?” she asked carefully, noting he carried no food. Was he here just to taunt her? It hadn’t escaped her notice that he’d avoided answering her question: What use am I alive?

Cyrus straightened, lifting his chin. “I have come to see if you are properly subdued. I see now that that is not the case. There is still fire in your eyes that would likely cause me trouble if I were to free you.”

Prue let out a harsh laugh. “You were considering freeing me? I highly doubt that.”

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