Page 5 of Salt & Blood (Ivy & Bone #4)

FRACTURED

PRUE

“Again,” Gaia commanded.

Prue wiped sweat from her brow, her arms trembling and her body weak. The two goddesses stood across from each other in the throne room, where they had been practicing conjuring earth magic for hours.

“I want this entire room to become a lush forest, Prudence,” Gaia said, her blue eyes sharp and unyielding as she fixed a determined stare on her daughter. “You can do better than this.”

Prue let her arms fall on her thighs, gasping for breath. “I’m trying. ”

“You’re not trying hard enough. If you ever hope to prevent Apollo from taking your kingdom, then you?—”

“I know what’s at stake, Gaia,” Prue snapped, rubbing her forehead as frustration mounted within her. Her last attempt with her magic had sprouted trees and roots, with shrubs and flowers spreading over the entire floor. But the chandelier on the ceiling had remained, as had the two silver thrones.

Emotion flared in Gaia’s eyes, and Prue knew why. She usually called her Mama. But sometimes, Prue couldn’t help but be reminded of the divide between them. Gaia had lied to Prue her entire life, keeping her lineage a secret, letting her believe she was nothing more than an ordinary witch.

Prue had forgiven her for this. But it didn’t mean they could return to how things were before. Even on Krenia, their relationship as mother and daughter had been strained. Gaia always got along better with Mona.

Mona. Prue’s chest constricted in agony. Goddess, she missed her sister. Was Mona safe? Was she well? Prue had to believe she’d gotten out of the Underworld before Pandora’s magic had consumed the realm.

“I don’t know if I have it in me,” Prue said in a low voice. She was so tired, so fragile, so deflated.

Gaia’s expression softened just a touch. She drew closer to Prue, her emerald gown swishing on the marble floors. “You do,” she said gently. “I know you, and I know your magic. You can do this. One last try. Please?”

Prue’s gaze flicked to her mother’s in surprise. Gaia never said please. As a goddess, and, before that, the Mother of the witch coven, she was accustomed to giving orders and having them followed without question.

So much had changed in Prue’s life over a short period of time. She couldn’t forget that Gaia had changed, too. Losing her powers and her third child to Apollo, then almost losing her other two daughters as well, had taken its toll on her. As far as Prue knew, Gaia was still prepared to give herself up to Pandora’s dark forces. But if Prue could prolong that for as long as she could, perhaps Gaia’s mind could be swayed.

“All right,” Prue conceded. “One last time.”

“Remember, this is not like witch magic,” Gaia reminded her. “No grace. No conditions. No third eye. You need to trust your goddess blood.”

Prue nodded. With a deep inhale, she spread her arms around herself. Her magic flared to life, making the ground rumble. The lacy blue fabric of her dress rippled from the movement. Her black curls billowed as a powerful wind swept over her.

Still she pulled, drawing out that power and strength, focusing on the new energy churning within her. Ever since Cyrus had brought her back from the dead, her magic had felt different. Foreign. Like it belonged to someone else. Like it wasn’t truly hers anymore.

Gaia had promised it would take time to adjust. But they did not have time. Apollo was already here. Any day now, Prue expected his army to burst into the castle, ready to seize it by force.

He hadn’t yet formally challenged her or Cyrus for the throne, which made Prue suspicious. Was he waiting for his forces to arrive? Or was he doing something else? He had announced his intention to rule, but then he’d vanished. Prue could still sense his powerful sun magic and knew he was still in the realm, but she had no idea what nefarious plans he was putting in motion. And she didn’t like it.

Focusing her thoughts on her powers, Prue flexed her fingers, coaxing out more and more of her magic. It burst from her, making the wind whistle and the ground quake. Cracks formed in the marble, and vines and roots sprang forth. Sweat dripped from her temples. She resisted the urge to wipe it away, keeping her arms stretched on either side of her.

More , she urged. More.

Grass coated the floors, spreading until the entire throne room was covered. Thick oak trees shot up, and the glass of the chandelier tinkled in response. Prue pictured exactly what her mother had asked for: a lush forest. She thought of the beech trees of Krenia, the thick woods where she and Mona had grown up. In her mind, she heard the laughter of children as they padded, bare-footed, through the grove.

The smell of roses tickled her nose, and once again, she was painfully reminded of Mona. Despair lodged in her throat, making it hard to breathe. But instead of shying away from the emotion, she clung to it, fueling her power with it.

“That’s it, Prudence!” Gaia said, her voice full of pride.

Prue’s face crumpled, and she felt tears burn in her eyes. But she embraced it, drawing out her agony along with her power. The fractured remains of her heart and soul.

She saw the loathing in Cyrus’s eyes when he’d awoken as a human.

She heard Mona’s screams as she sacrificed herself to the dark magic that had once claimed her life.

She saw Apollo ripping the infant baby from Gaia’s arms, leaving her sobbing on the floor.

Sharp heat burned in Prue’s chest, and she groaned, hunching over as the tears spilled freely down her face. Goddess, it was too much. Too much.

She threw her head back with a scream, letting it tear at her throat, letting it pull everything from her. Only once had she allowed her magic to take this much of herself—and it had been when the caves of Tartarus were collapsing. It had been the only way to save Cyrus.

That much strain on her body had killed her.

But this time was different. This time, the castle walls trembled, and an explosion of power split the air. Glass shattered, but Prue’s magic swarmed around her, protecting her from the shards. Metal and stone cracked, making a resounding echo that clanged through the room. Dust filled the air, brushing against her skin. Still, she wept. Still, she pushed.

At long last, she fell to her knees, unable to offer any more. Her knees met soft, grassy earth, and the smell of sage and roses and jasmine filled her nose. Slowly, she opened her eyes, blinking away the tears.

It was as if she’d stepped through a portal. A canopy of tree branches had replaced the ceiling, and vines and shrubs coated the windows, cocooning her in darkness. Where the thrones once sat were now two massive oak trees. Rose bushes, beech trees, and vines of ivy lined the walls. Thick grass had completely replaced the floor.

Gaia stood in front of her, a rare smile on her face, her blue eyes gleaming with admiration. She strode toward Prue, and the grass shifted from her movement, bending to her will as the Earth Goddess. She knelt at Prue’s side, then grasped her shoulders. Prue leaned into her touch, afraid she would collapse from fatigue.

“Well done, my darling,” Gaia murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Well done.”

* * *

Prue soaked in the bath for an hour after the ordeal with her magic. Her emotions were still raw and festering inside her, as if a dam had burst, and there was no way to repair it. No way to shove the emotions back into place.

The tears wouldn’t stop flowing. Pain and misery clouded her mind, and she couldn’t breathe. Even an hour in the soapy water could not cure her of the turmoil racing through her.

She needed Cyrus. She needed her husband.

It had been days since she’d seen him. The day he’d awoken as a human, he had said terrible things to her, and even after they had confronted Apollo together, she’d been too afraid to seek him out. Not only that, but he was making himself as scarce as Apollo these days. She got the sense he was avoiding her.

Well, she had given him time. And right now, she needed her husband. Her king. Her mate.

Swallowing around the lump of grief in her throat, Prue slipped into a red silk gown and gathered her hair into a braid that fell over one shoulder. She brushed her fingers along her collarbone, lamenting the loss of that pomegranate necklace that had bound her and Cyrus together so long ago.

After brushing rouge on her lips and cheeks, she strode from her quarters, chin lifted as she projected a confidence she did not feel. The servants and staff nodded or bowed politely to her as she swept past them. In the corridors, she encountered dozens of demons flitting about, some looking as if they belonged, and others seeming confused and overwhelmed. The realm was in shambles, and her advisor, Lagos, had managed to shelter as many demons as possible before the kingdom had fallen. The castle was warded with powerful magic that had somehow managed to protect its inhabitants from Pandora’s darkness. For this, Prue was grateful, but her chest ached at the thought of the people they had not been able to save.

People who had died because of her. Because she had opened Pandora’s box.

The tightness in her throat only intensified, lodging firmly in her airway until she couldn’t breathe. Heat burned in her eyes, and she barely saw where she was going, barely registered her steps moving until she found herself in front of Cyrus’s door. Originally, he had resided in the king’s suite of the castle, but Lagos had discreetly questioned the staff about the king’s whereabouts, and Prue was alarmed to discover he had moved to a guest chamber instead.

Was he not intending to stay? Or did he find himself unworthy to occupy the king’s suite?

Or worse—was he abdicating to Apollo? Could he even do that, while Prue still reigned as Queen of the Underworld?

Shoving aside these thoughts and uncertainties, Prue rapped on the door loudly, then frowned. She was his wife. She didn’t need to knock. Her fingers reached for the door handle.

A low groan sounded from within, halting her.

Cold dread seeped into her, cinching tightly in her stomach. Oh, Goddess…

Was he in there with another woman?

Prue didn’t think he could hurt her any more than when he’d first discovered he was human. But no, he could. If he decided to bed another woman, then?—

Prue gritted her teeth. For the first time, fresh anger swept over her, coursing through her and heating her blood. How dare he?

She flung open the doors, letting them bang against the walls as she strode into the chambers. Her eyes flared wide at the scene before her.

Books, papers, and clothes were strewn all over the room. Pillows had been shredded, leaving feathers everywhere. On all fours, gasping for breath, was Cyrus. He was shirtless, his black hair hanging, obscuring his face like a curtain. A sheen of sweat coated his pale skin.

“Cyrus,” Prue said, all ire leaving her at once as she hurried to his side.

But at her approach, Cyrus hissed and cringed away from her. “Don’t.”

She froze at the lethal warning in his voice. He might not have the same powers he’d possessed before, but he still carried the authority of a god.

“What happened?” Prue asked, trying not to let panic bleed into her words.

To her surprise, Cyrus wheezed a mocking laugh, sitting back on the balls of his feet and shaking the sweaty hair from his face. His blue eyes were like chips of ice as he glared at her. “Nothing, wife. Nothing has happened. I am merely winded from the mundane events of the day because of this despicable mortal body. I would be shocked if I lived to see another fortnight at this rate.”

Prue blinked at him, unable to process his words. He was wounded… from his mortal blood? Her gaze passed over him quickly, assessing for injuries. Aside from the blue veins standing out starkly on his arms and neck, and the pallor of his skin, he seemed unharmed.

She swallowed hard, uncertain of what to do. It was clear he didn’t want her pity or concern. What could she do for him? She wanted to touch him, to hold him to her chest.

But no. He would hate to be coddled. She knew Cyrus better than anyone. And although he had been severely altered from this transformation, she knew his soul. His mind.

He wanted power. Respect. Strength. And he had lost all of that.

Sorrow welled inside her at the sight of her husband like this, and her, powerless to help him.

After a long moment, she said quietly, “Do you wish to leave?”

Cyrus turned to look at her fully, his dark brows furrowing in confusion. “Leave?”

“Leave the Underworld.”

His lips parted in surprise, and Prue was alarmed at how refreshing it was to see an emotion other than hatred on his face.

“If you are unhappy here,” Prue went on, “I can arrange for you to be taken to the mortal realm.”

Cyrus snorted, casting his gaze skyward. “The mortal realm.” He said the words with derision.

Prue scoffed and crossed her arms. “You’ve been there before. It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Cyrus’s expression shifted, his eyes flaring with an emotion Prue couldn’t place. Something softened in his features for a brief moment, but his apathetic mask slid into place before Prue could scrutinize it. “I suppose not.”

“Is that what you want?” Prue asked. “To leave here?” To leave me, she wanted to say. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask directly.

If he no longer loved her, she would let him go. She would let him live whatever life he wanted to.

Cyrus leaned against the armoire behind him, draping his arms over his legs as he fiddled with a loose thread on his trousers. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you offering? To get me out of the way? To be rid of the embarrassment of having a human for a husband?”

Prue’s nostrils flared. “You forget that I was a human once, too. And you looked down on me, sneering at me at every turn. I will not do the same to you. I lived among humans my entire life. I have nothing but respect for them.”

“You were a witch.” Cyrus waved his hand, as if her words didn’t matter. “You still had magic. That’s hardly human. ”

Prue cocked her head at him. “Is magic all that matters?”

Cyrus’s lips pressed together in a thin line, but Prue could read the answer in his eyes. Yes.

She had to ask. She had to know. “Do you regret it?” Her voice was quiet. “Bringing me back? If you had known… what the spell would do, would that have changed your mind?” She held her breath, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

Cyrus’s gaze sharpened, and he climbed to his feet, bracing one arm against the armoire for support. With a heavy sigh, he ran his fingers through his inky black hair. At long last, he spoke, his voice so soft Prue wasn’t sure she heard him properly. “No.”

The breath whooshed from her lungs in a sharp exhale. Thank the Goddess.

“I still believe you are the best leader for this realm,” Cyrus said, his gaze solemn. Something in Prue’s chest sank. So, he only brought her back for the good of the kingdom? Not because he loved her?

“That hasn’t changed, even with Apollo here,” said Cyrus.

Apollo. Prue bristled at the reminder that her throne was in jeopardy. As if she and Cyrus didn’t have enough to deal with at the moment.

Cyrus’s brows furrowed in confusion, and he said slowly, “He called Gaia wife …” His eyes flicked up to meet Prue’s, a question in his gaze.

Prue blinked. Did Cyrus not know? Well, it was bound to be exposed soon anyway. “Apollo is my father,” she said.

Cyrus’s eyebrows lifted, his mouth going slack with surprise. Then, he barked out a harsh laugh, sounding so much like his old self that Prue felt her heart lighten. “Of course he is. Well, it all makes sense now. You broke Gaia’s curse, and you are the Queen of the Underworld. He couldn’t possibly allow it. He wants revenge.”

“He wants to be the most powerful,” Prue said. “I don’t believe he would be here if he didn’t consider us a threat.”

Cyrus’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “I’m not much of a threat anymore, am I?”

“He doesn’t know that.”

“Yes, he does.” The words were grave and final, and Prue felt her blood run cold.

Shit. Had Cyrus told him he was human?

If so, why was he talking with Apollo at all?

Cyrus stared at her, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “Why are you here, Prue?”

In truth, she had come to Cyrus for selfish reasons—because she needed him. But upon arriving, she realized he had needed her more.

And in that moment, she knew what else he needed: freedom.

Clearing her throat, Prue said in a firm voice, “I came to tell you that I love you. Despite everything we have endured, everything that has happened, and everything you said to me, I am still desperately in love with you. And if, at any point, you wish to be my husband once again, I will be waiting.”

Prue paused to take a breath, her pulse racing and her stomach twisting into knots. She took a moment to steady herself before continuing, “But, ages ago, we struck a bargain that bound us together as husband and wife. It was something neither of us asked for, and neither of us were able to be rid of that bond. I’m giving you the chance now. If you wish to part ways from me and seek out your own life in the mortal realm, I will accept this. I will look after the Underworld and do my best to stop Apollo from taking the throne. I swear it.”

Cyrus’s eyes flashed with pain. A muscle worked in his jaw as he looked at her, his cheeks reddening. He exhaled deeply, dropping his gaze, his nostrils flaring. Prue couldn’t tell if it was anger or despair that overcame him.

But she wasn’t ready to face it. Whatever it was, she wasn’t strong enough yet.

So she said, “You don’t have to answer right now. I just wanted you to know where I stood. And what you can expect from me.”

Her throat burned as she turned away from him, her eyes stinging with tears. As soon as she left his chambers, not even glancing back at him, she let the tears fall freely as agony consumed her.