Page 39 of Ivy & Bone

“All right,” she said slowly. “I fear for my family. For my sister’s soul. I fear I’ll be too late to help her.” Though the words rang true, she uttered them without emotion or emphasis, hoping to brush past that small kernel of truth. “What about you?”

Cyrus inhaled deeply, his eyes growing distant. “I fear the mortal realm. I fear being powerless. I fear losing my home and being enslaved by my brothers.”

Prue arched an eyebrow. “You fear the mortal realm?”

Cyrus shifted in his seat. “Yes.”

Prue laughed. “Why? You’re this powerful god. You could slaughter everyone in the city with one thought. What would you have to fear?”

“I fear losing myself to this place. Each time I am here, I feel this realm takes more and more of my soul. I fear that if I’m here for too long, I won’t be able to go back home because I’ll be anchored to mortality. That eventually . . . I will become mortal myself.” He shuddered.

Prue stared at him, her smile fading. Fearing the Realm of Gaia was laughable compared to how powerful he was, but as he spoke, she saw the reality of his words. It was certainly a valid fear to have, especially given how much this realm had already taken from him.

“Well,” Prue said, forcing her voice to remain steady. “It’s a good thing you’ll be returning to your realm shortly. You won’t have to be here much longer.”

Cyrus’s gaze dropped as he fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt, his fingers dancing over the inked markings on his hand.

“Why do you have vine tattoos?” Prue asked suddenly.

Cyrus blinked and looked at her in bewilderment. “What?”

Prue touched his wrist, her finger tracing over one swirling vine. She could’ve sworn Cyrus shuddered again. “These vines . . . what do they mean?”

“They aren’t vines. They’re flames.” He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. Surprise and awareness lit his features. “But you’re right. They do look like vines, don’t they?”

Prue sucked in a breath as their eyes locked once more. A distant part of her brain registered her fingers were still tracing circles along his wrist, and the contact sent a trail of fire through her hand and up her arm. Heat coiled in her belly, and this time, she couldn’t look away from him. Her eyes roved over his luminous eyes, his silver hair, the dark horns protruding from his temples. He was a monster, in a sense, and yet, he was still vulnerable. Still human, even if he was immortal. He had vulnerabilities and fears, just like her. Yes, he was different, but so was she. She was a witch, after all, and her lavender eyes, dark skin, and wild, curly hair probably drew as much attention as his horns would have, were it not for the glamour.

“The markings came after my first journey to this realm,” Cyrus said, his voice a low rumble that made Prue’s toes curl. “I imagine that, once I return, the markings will take over the other half of my body.” He said the words with a hint of regret.

“I like them,” Prue blurted. She wasn’t sure why she said it, but he seemed disappointed at the prospect of being inked on his entire body. She raised her hand, tracing the waves of flame that curled along his throat and collarbone. “They tell a story.”

Cyrus’s breath hitched as her fingers traced the curves down to the muscles of his chest that peeked out from under his loose tunic. “And what story do they tell you?” His voice had grown husky.

Prue chewed on her lower lip, and his eyes darkened as they dipped to her mouth. Trying to ignore the heat in her face, Prue said softly, “They tell a story of darkness and power. Loss and grief.” Her eyes lifted to his once more. “They speak of a man who sees himself as a monster.”

“Isn’t he?”

Prue shook her head. “Not entirely. Not as much as he thinks he is.”

She uttered the words without thinking, without truly considering what they meant. Why had she said that? Didn’t she believe him to be a monster?

But the honest truth was . . . no. She didn’t. He did monstrous things, but so did all humans. Everyone was capable of despicable things. Here was a god who loved his home, who would do anything to save it, even at the expense of others. He was willing to commit vile acts to get what he wanted, but Prue finally understood that he didn’t do it callously or carelessly. He did it out of necessity.

He was tortured, haunted by a past she couldn’t quite understand. But he was certainly not a monster.

The space between them had shrunk to mere inches. Their faces were so close they were sharing breath. Prue’s heart thundered loudly in her chest, and she swore he could hear it, that even the coachman outside could hear it. But she couldn’t break away. This shared space, this connection, was so fragile that if she broke it, she feared it would never grow back. And despite the roiling uncertainty churning inside her, a strange part of her needed to preserve this link with him. It was so new, so fragile and surprising, that she clung to it in desperation.

Cyrus’s lips parted, and he leaned in, his nose brushing against hers. Prue’s eyelids fluttered closed, and her body arched toward him.

A loud thump sounded atop the carriage, and they both jumped, jolting away from each other. It took Prue’s muddled brain several moments to figure out what had happened. But then she realized the carriage had come to a stop. They must have reached the mountains already.

She should have felt relieved. Eager to continue with their journey. So why did she feel disappointment instead?

LAUGHTER

CYRUS

The chilled air nipped at Cyrus’s face as he stepped out of the carriage, extending his hand to Prue to help her out as well. To his surprise, she took it. He’d expected her to snap at him, or claim her ankle was fine and she didn’t need help.

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