Page 3 of Salt & Blood (Ivy & Bone #4)

TERMS

CYRUS

Cyrus left the throne room, the sight of Prue’s devastated face imprinted on his brain forever. He stormed to his rooms, letting the doors slam shut behind him. With a roar, he flung a vase across the room until it shattered, leaving broken shards all over the floor.

It subsided his rage but not by much.

He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands until his skull throbbed. He didn’t want to destroy his furnishings; he wanted to destroy this weak mortal body. This frail, pathetic vessel was what he loathed the most.

Apollo was here.

Prue was alive.

Cyrus was human.

His pitiful mind couldn’t keep up with it all. Thoughts and questions raced, too quickly for him to take stock of everything.

He collapsed onto the bed, covering his face with a pillow and bellowing into it as loudly as he could, so intensely his throat burned. He screamed, on and on, letting the sound rip through him.

When he was finished and gasping for breath, he dropped the pillow, then glared at the ceiling.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there. All he knew was he had nothing left to do. No purpose. Nothing to fight for.

All he had was this horrible empty void, waiting to devour him. Waiting for his short human life to end.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Go away, Prue!” he barked. The last thing he wanted to see was the pity on her face, the eyes full of despair as she tried to fix what had broken between them.

There was no fixing this. It was irreparable. Nothing could be done.

The tapping sounded again, more timid this time. Then a feeble voice said, “I have a message for you, Your Highness.”

Frowning, Cyrus climbed off the bed and opened the door. Before him stood a demon woman with two sets of short horns on her head. Her skin was charcoal and a long, barbed tail flicked behind her. Her eyes darted up to Cyrus’s, then dropped, her head bowing in submission. Wordlessly, she extended her hands, revealing a roll of parchment.

Cyrus took it, then waved his hand, dismissing the servant. She seemed glad to depart, her hastened steps echoing down the hall as she vanished.

As Cyrus opened it, dread coiled in his chest. It was from Apollo.

The Sun God requests your presence in the study for friendly negotiations.

Cyrus snorted. What kind of bastard referred to himself in the third person? And friendly negotiations sounded anything but. Apollo was here for his throne. There was nothing friendly about that.

He was already moving to toss the parchment out the window when he faltered. If he refused, it would mean he was choosing a side. Choosing Prue’s side.

It meant he would need to battle Apollo. If the sun god fought him during the challenge, Cyrus could not win.

He stroked his chin, contemplating his options. Siding with Apollo seemed like a terrible idea… but perhaps he could work it in his favor.

Half an hour later, Cyrus sat in an armchair in the study, sitting across from Apollo. He sipped the wine from his glass, resisting the urge to wrinkle his nose from the sharp sweetness that assaulted his tongue. These damned human senses wouldn’t let him tolerate anything. Then again, he recalled the wine from Elysium to be rather unpleasant.

But ever since he had cast the spell to bring Prue back from the dead, he hadn’t felt like himself at all. Not a god. No one powerful. Nothing but this pitiful mere mortal.

He looked over at Apollo, who drank his wine with a contented smile on his face. The mighty sun god and former king of Elysium lounged in a wing-backed chair facing the hearth, within which roared a pleasant fire. If not for the chaos just outside the doors, Cyrus could easily believe this was an ordinary day with the castle staff flitting about and the realm functioning as it should.

The ease on Apollo’s face indicated he was not concerned at all that most of the citizens had been destroyed by the darkness of Pandora’s box.

Cyrus continued to sip the wine, if only to give his body something to do. Inside him, turmoil raged, his mind racing and his heart seizing. He forced an outward calm as he said in a smooth voice, “You do not seem at all bothered by the situation.”

Apollo blinked, his dark eyes flicking to Cyrus with lazy amusement. “The situation?”

Cyrus waved a hand toward the closed doors of the study.

Apollo snorted and took a large gulp of his own wine. “I’ve seen war before, nephew. This is nothing. It will pass.”

Cyrus bristled at the term of endearment. “I’ve told you not to call me that. There is no shared blood between us.”

Apollo arched an eyebrow. “Your father and I shared a special bond. To me, that binds us together far more than blood. ” He spat the word.

Cyrus went perfectly still. Was Apollo speaking of his own parents? His sister? Whoever he was thinking of was someone he loathed, and Cyrus, regrettably, had not properly researched Apollo’s ancestral line to know anything about it.

“Even so,” Cyrus said slowly, “I held little regard for my father and brothers. So you can imagine I would be far less inclined to call you family , especially when you’ve stolen into my realm and attempted to claim my throne.”

Apollo swept another gaze over Cyrus, then chuckled. “Face it, boy. You are in no condition to rule this place. And you know it.”

Cyrus decided he loathed being called boy much more than nephew.

And this proved Apollo knew something was wrong with Cyrus’s magic. But perhaps he didn’t know the entirety of the situation.

Struggling to rein in his temper, Cyrus said evenly, “Then, why am I here? Why not kill me to make the transition easier?”

“I could,” Apollo mused, his dark eyes glittering. “It would be easy. But I think you’ll be far more useful to me as an ally.”

Cyrus’s nostrils flared. “Why would I align myself with someone trying to steal my throne?”

“Why else?” Apollo sat back in his chair and laced his fingers together. “Power. Protection. As I said, I could kill you. And I will do just that if you get in my way.”

A threat, then. It wasn’t surprising. Cyrus knew the kind of man Apollo was. He was just like Aidoneus.

Thinking of his father made Cyrus pause before answering. He needed to pretend it was Aidoneus before him. How would he manipulate this conversation in his favor, if that were the case?

It was nothing more than a game. A show of strength. And, weak as he was, Cyrus was good at projecting confidence.

He needed to play things differently, though. The absence of his power meant the game had changed.

He needed to tell Apollo the truth. Or at least, part of it.

His chin lifted. “That isn’t much of a threat. I expected to die two days ago when I cast the spell to bring back my wife. In a weak vessel like this”—he gestured to himself with a sneer—“death would be preferable.”

It wasn’t a lie. But repeating those words, when he had thrown them in Prue’s face earlier, made his chest ache. He still didn’t feel fully like himself, and inwardly, he raged at being weak and pathetic. The fury and frustration were still there.

But now they mingled with a remorse so potent it lanced through him like a sharpened blade. The look of hurt and betrayal on Prue’s face. The tears in her eyes. The choked words she flung back at him.

He had shattered something between them. And he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to repair it.

“Your life isn’t the only one I can take,” Apollo said. His tone was low, and the calmness in his expression darkened into something lethal. “I can take that pretty little wife of yours. She’s powerful, yes, but she is nothing against me.”

It took all of Cyrus’s strength to push down the rising roar of his anger at the thought of Apollo with his hands on Prue. Don’t show him your weakness, he thought. Just like with Aidoneus. “You think you can best my wife? When Gaia herself has had her powers restored, and would fight alongside her? I don’t think so.”

Apollo chuckled without humor. “You are a fool if you don’t see the possibilities, Cyrus. You, your witch, and Gaia—all three of you provide an excellent opportunity.” He leaned forward, his gaze sharpening with intensity. “ Leverage. ”

Cyrus’s heart lurched as he finally understood Apollo’s meaning. All the sun god had to do was threaten Gaia, and Prue would comply. If he threatened Prue, Cyrus would comply. And Gaia had already proven she would do anything to save her children.

Apollo was right. He owned this realm because he had nothing to lose. No weaknesses to exploit.

But everyone else did.

Thinking fast, Cyrus pursed his lips as if considering this. “You do make an excellent point.” He carefully set his glass on the table next to him, scratching his chin with a thoughtful frown on his face. “But you overlook one thing. I don’t care for the earth goddesses. Not anymore.”

Apollo’s brows furrowed. “You can’t expect me to believe that.”

It was time to stop pretending. Cyrus needed to offer the truth if he wanted to gain Apollo’s trust. After all, Apollo would find out about his human state eventually. That is, assuming he didn’t already know.

“As I said, I thought I would die when I cast the spell for Prue,” Cyrus said. “I was willing to do that for her. But I was not willing to come back in this wretched state. A human.” With a disgusted grimace, he gestured to himself once more. He couldn’t even bear to look at himself in the mirror. He knew what he would see: a weak human with black hair and blue eyes and no tattoos. No sign of the otherworldly power he’d once held.

“So it’s true then?” Apollo asked. “You are mortal? I thought you looked different. And I can sense no power in you.”

“Yes, it’s true. I can hardly stand the sight of my wife anymore.” Cyrus kept his tone idle, as if he were merely discussing the state of his court. “And I told her as much. Whatever existed between us is… gone. You can ask her yourself.”

He forced himself to look away, to sigh and gaze at the flames in the hearth, as if this were sad news indeed, but not sad enough for him to do anything about it.

Inside, his emotions raged, thrashing against his mortal form, dragging him downward. He saw the broken agony in Prue’s face, the way her gaze had fixed on him in disbelief and confusion. He imagined Apollo speaking with Prue, asking about her marriage, reopening the wound Cyrus had dealt her. Prue would deny it, of course, but she had always been so easy to read. Her expression would turn haunted and full of grief, and in that moment, Apollo would know Cyrus was telling the truth.

“Do what you want with the earth goddesses,” Cyrus said, his gaze still fixed on the fire. “Although, I’m a little surprised you don’t want to keep them alive.”

Apollo shifted in his seat. “What do you mean?”

Cyrus feigned confusion as he looked at Apollo. “To rebuild the realm, of course. You can’t rule a broken kingdom. And Gaia and Prudence are the only ones with magic powerful enough to rebuild this place.”

Apollo stroked his chin, his eyes calculating. He knew that only earth magic—the magic of new life—could create a realm strong enough for him to rule. Sun magic could only get him so far. “I only need one of them,” he said.

“True,” Cyrus said. “Gaia is the stronger of the two, and the obvious choice to do the task. But if you kill her daughter, do you really think she’ll do what you want? As you said, Prue is her leverage. And without it, you have nothing.”

Apollo bit the inside of his cheek and swirled his drink, his eyes narrowing with concentration. Cyrus could practically see the thoughts flickering across his face. He cocked his head and appraised Cyrus with an appreciative gleam in his eye. “All right, then.” He set down his drink and clasped his hands together. “Here are my terms. You align yourself with me, help me take the throne, and I will not only offer you protection, but I will give you the highest seat on my council.”

Cyrus shook his head. “No. I want my powers back.”

Apollo opened and closed his mouth. “But… You… That’s not possible.”

Cyrus’s mouth curved into a serpentine smile. He spread his hands as if in apology. “Then I’m afraid I’ll have to reject your terms.” He stood and headed for the door.

“Wait.” Apollo stood, too, and Cyrus turned to face him, eyebrows raised. Apollo’s eyes were wide with panic, his calm demeanor vanishing completely.

That was when Cyrus knew his suspicions had been correct.

Apollo was desperate. He had no allies. No one to trust.

He needed Cyrus. More than Cyrus needed him.

“I—I can find a way,” Apollo said quickly. “I will find a way to restore your powers. You have my word.”

Your word means nothing to me, you bastard, Cyrus thought. But he nodded, offering a satisfied smile. He stuck out his hand, which Apollo shook. “Then, we have a deal.”

Let the games begin.