Page 2 of Thorn & Ash

“Would you give me your word you would bring me no harm if I were to release you?”

Prue was silent. She could lie and promise him anything just to get out of her situation. But after what they’d been through together, she found she couldn’t lie to him.

She owed him that much.

She almost agreed right away, knowing she would be unable to harm Cyrus, no matter how cruel he’d become.

Because she loved him with all her soul.

But this Cyrus didn’t need to know that. Better he think her dangerous and volatile than weak and submissive.

Prue reached for her magic, summoning that reserve of power deep within herself. But, like every attempt, her body felt nothing but cold emptiness. Her third eye remained closed. There was no magic to be conjured. No spells to cast.

Her magic was gone.

She didn’t know if it was Cyrus’s doing or because she was in the Underworld, but whatever the reason, she was powerless.

“I don’t enjoy seeing you like this, Prudence,” Cyrus said softly. “Show me you can be a loyal and obedient subject, and you will be rewarded for it.”

Prue’s eyes narrowed. “I am not your subject. I am your wife. Your queen. I bow to no one.”

Cyrus’s lips curled into a smirk. “The Underworld has no queen. It never has, and it never will.”

Prue shook her head sadly at the bitterness in his voice. “You are mine, Cyrus. And I am yours. That will never change.”

They had sealed their bond the night they consummated their marriage. Cyrus had warned her that connection was permanent; never to be broken.

They were tethered. For all eternity.

With a snarl, Cyrus turned away from her… but not before Prue caught another glimpse of that striking silver in his eyes. Stunned, she watched him leave the cave, his cloak swishing with each step.

Her Cyrus was still here. Barely. Her words had drawn him out for only a moment.

She clung to that hope, vowing to do whatever it took to bring him back.

WHIRLPOOL

MONA

The wind raged, the spray of the sea dousing Mona’s already soaked form as she clung to the rails of the ship. Dark clouds swirled in the sky, the large vessel tossed about with each wave. Mona’s grip on the rails tightened. She couldn’t fall in.

Not yet.

She gazed down at the emerald ring she wore on her finger, now flecked with water droplets. According to Evander’s specific instructions, she needed an emerald on her skin to keep her alive when she passed through the portal to the Underworld.

She also needed to be alive when she crossed over, otherwise she would just be another spirit drifting among the rivers. She had already played that role. After sacrificing her life to save her sister and her village, Mona had died, traveling to the Underworld as a spirit.

That was where she’d met Evander.

But after Prue had resurrected her, Mona had watched her sister vanish into a portal to the Underworld alongside the god of the dead.

Mona couldn’t just sit there and let Prue live out the remainder of her life bound to the Underworld. She had to bring her sister back and free her from the realm of the dead. Prue needed her.

And yes, a small, heated part of her yearned to see Evander again. Their conversation during her communication spell had been… stilted. His voice always had a kind, soft timbre to it, but after spending an inordinate amount of time with him in the Underworld, she had learned to differentiate his cordial voice from his passionate voice.

It had definitely been the former.

Did that mean he wasn’t glad to hear from her? Had he hoped to be rid of her forever?

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