Page 33 of Salt & Blood (Ivy & Bone #4)

VOW

CYRUS

Cyrus knelt on the forest floor, pressing his hands into the dirt where the Titans’ portal had vanished. His fingers sifted the earth, his hardened gaze fixed on those small grains, trying to determine if there was any trace of Titan magic remaining. Anything he could use to track them so he could get his wife back.

Evander appeared by his side. Cyrus could feel his brother’s panic mounting; Evander’s fingers kept clenching into fists, and he was trembling.

“Cyrus,” Evander said, his voice strained. He seemed moments away from combusting entirely. “We have to do something. Mona—I can’t?—”

“Wait,” Cyrus said, his voice surprisingly calm given the turmoil raging in his chest.

My wife is gone.

The Titans have her.

She is gone.

The rage and desperation swirled within him like a storm, twisting faster and faster until he felt ready to burst.

But he forced himself to remain still. He closed his eyes, searching within himself for that god sense he had trusted for so long.

It was so very different now; not at all like he remembered. He wasn’t sure if it was his mortal body or the Titan powers flowing through him.

He had expected the Titan magic within him to fade, like Apollo’s had, but it was still there. Perhaps it was because that particular brand of magic was stronger than any other.

The air pulsated, and the earth began to tremble. Cyrus pressed his fingers deeper into the earth until the dirt covered his hands entirely. Sparks ignited along his arms, and lightning crackled in the air. He sensed Evander jumping backward to avoid getting struck.

A deep, pulsing thrum resonated from within the earth, warming Cyrus’s fingers and coaxing the flames of his power to life. The magic of the realm encircled him, claiming him as the rightful ruler of the Underworld once more. It should have accepted him immediately after Apollo had forfeited the challenge. But the power of the Titans had been overwhelming, no doubt making it difficult for the magic of the Underworld to reach Cyrus.

But it was here now.

In the silent stillness following the Titans’ departure, Cyrus was ready to be anointed by the realm’s magic once again.

But unlike before, when Cyrus had taken the crown from Aidoneus, there was something else in the air. Something he had never sensed before.

Whispers echoed in the Wilds, shifting through the trees like a breeze. The murmurs grew louder and more fervent. Branches swayed and leaves fell. The whispers of the dead made the hair on Cyrus’s arms stand on end. He suppressed a shiver, keeping his eyes closed as he embraced that strange power roiling through him.

“Cyrus,” Evander said again, his voice soft with warning.

King, the voices seemed to say. Our king has awakened. Our king is here.

Cyrus’s eyes flew open, and from the way his brother stiffened, he knew his eyes were all white. But Cyrus felt nothing but pure, raw power coursing through him. What had once been intoxicating to him now existed only to serve one purpose: to find Prue.

“Kneel,” Cyrus said, his voice powerful and commanding.

Evander immediately took a knee before him, bowing his head to the King of the Underworld.

“I wasn’t talking to you, brother,” said Cyrus.

The whispers multiplied until they sounded more like a raging tornado than a cacophony of voices. From within the depths of the Undead Wilds, the restless and wayward spirits finally revealed themselves. Hundreds of translucent white figures appeared, ready to serve their king. For eons, they had been stranded, disconnected from their souls. When Cyrus had first claimed the throne, he hadn’t been worthy of the power of this realm. And these spirits had known it. They had avoided him, refusing to bow.

But now, with the reigning power given to him a second time, the Wilds had come to life. The spirits who had haunted the realm for so long were finally emerging.

And, one by one, the pearly spirits knelt to the ground, bowing their heads to Cyrus just as Evander had.

This time was different. Cyrus had changed. He was willing to make sacrifices for his people. He was ready now, when before he had only been hungry for power.

“I am sorry it has taken me so long to be worthy of the crown,” Cyrus said, addressing the spirits. “But I swear a solemn vow to you that if you help me rescue Prue and Mona, I will see to it that you are finally freed. That your souls will find rest at last.”

The spirits said nothing. They continued bowing before Cyrus, their forms motionless. While the whispers had ceased, an eerie wind shook the trees, whipping against Cyrus’s face and tousling his hair.

Then, the whispers returned. With one collective voice, the spirits replied, “We accept.”

* * *

Can Cyrus and Evander get Prue and Mona back? Read Book 5, Willow & Grave , to find out!