Page 50 of Salt & Blood

“Be careful,” Prue said.

“Don’t leave this room,” he warned her. “Lock the door when I leave.” A lock wouldn’t do much good against Apollo’s magic, but hopefully, Cyrus’s guest chambers would be the last place he’d look for her.

He strode into the hallway, the energy flowing within him reaching an unbearable intensity. He found himself running, breaking into a sprint, desperate to work off this feeling of frustration and helplessness.

His wife had been threatened. Choked. Almost killed. He wouldn’t stand by and donothing.

He bolted down the hall and flew down the stairs, knowing Apollo would be in the throne room. That bastard wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity to gloat. He had to be expecting Cyrus. Apollo was too smart not to.

Cyrus burst into the throne room, and, sure enough, Apollo was lounging casually in the throne, sipping that damned Elysium wine. There was only one throne in the room now; at some point, Apollo must have had the other one removed.

Cyrus bared his teeth, his hands forming fists at his sides. With lethal calm, he moved toward Apollo, who watched him with a lazy smile.

“Nephew,” Apollo said, lifting his chin. “So good to see you.”

“Spare me your bullshit,” Cyrus spat. “You swore you wouldn’t harm Prue.”

“Ah.” Apollo sat forward, setting his glass down on the floor before bracing his arms on his knees. “So youdocare. That was a test, nephew. A test you failed.”

“This wasn’t part of our agreement,” Cyrus snarled. “I’m sending Hyperion back.”

Apollo’s eyes glinted with amusement. “I’d like to see you try to overpower that beast of a Titan. He is stronger than he looks. A fact I’m sure your wife is well acquainted with by now.”

Cyrus unleashed a roar of rage and lunged, his fingers closing around Apollo’s throat. With strength he didn’t know he had, he lifted the sun god in the air and slammed him against the wall behind the throne. Apollo gagged and struggled against his grip, his eyes bulging and his face turning red. He clawed at Cyrus’s hand, but Cyrus held firm, his grip unrelenting. Heat and power coursed through his blood, making him feel powerful for the first time since he’d woken up human.

“You will not touch her,” Cyrus hissed. “Hyperion will not touch her. If either of you so much aslooksat her again, I will tear off your balls and shove them down your throats.”

Apollo’s legs flailed as he continued to struggle, his face now turning purple. Vaguely, Cyrus wondered why the sun god didn’t blast him with his magic, but he didn’t care. The anger flowing through him was so potent, so uncontrollable, that he felt he could take on anything and anyone. He could even take on this sorry excuse for a god.

But then Cyrus’s hands began to glow. Warmth pressed into his palm, burning hotter and hotter until smoke wafted from Apollo’s neck, filling the air with the putrid smell of scorched flesh.

Cyrus’s eyes widened, and he immediately dropped Apollo, letting him crumple to the floor. The sun god fell on all fours, choking and wheezing.

Cyrus raised his hands, which were shaking, his mouth falling open in shock. Brilliant light shone from his fingertips, a mixture of gold and amber hues like the sun.

It was sun magic. Somehow, he had absorbed Apollo’s power.

REBUILD

PANDORA

Pandora couldn’t keepher eyes off the Gorgon sisters. Even as soldiers and servants flitted about, repairing the throne room as best they could, she found her gaze drifting over to where the three sisters stood, conversing stoically with King Midas. They were almost identical—all three of them had pale skin, green eyes, and inky black hair, although one of them had the left side of her head completely shaved.

Pandora recognized the one who had healed Sol—Marina. She was the tallest of the three, her form slender and regal. She had a commanding air about her that made her stand out among the other sisters.

While Mona helped repair some of the earth tunnels that had collapsed during the attack, Pandora remained by Sol’s side in case he awoke. He had been moved to a small cot on the opposite side of the throne room. The witches had offered a private chamber for him, but Pandora had refused. She needed to be here with the others, not only to ask for the Gorgon sisters’ help, but also to accept her sentence. She refused to run and hide, even if it was alongside Sol.

Besides, she knew Sol would want to be here, too. He wouldn’t want to miss anything. The minute he awakened, he could join the conversation.

With the help of magic and the dozens of servants and guardsmen repairing the underground palace, it didn’t take long before the throne room was restored to its former glory. The golden statue of the hydra had been hauled away, and Pandora heard one of the servants mention a “vault” where other golden statues were stored. She vaguely wondered how many people Midas had turned to gold, and how many instances had been intentional.

Once the room had been cleared of debris and servants, Midas sank onto his throne. His hands were gloved once more as he rubbed his temples. Two of the Gorgon sisters stood next to him, whispering fervently to one another. The third sister—Marina—was locked in a romantic embrace with Romanos, heedless of any onlookers as their mouths claimed each other again and again. Pandora found herself entranced by the sight. So much passion and yearning. She wondered how long they had been apart. And gods, the way their bodies wrapped around one another with no restraint, holding nothing back…

“Trivia.”

Pandora jumped, whirling to find Mona beside her. With flaming cheeks, Pandora cleared her throat and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Then she frowned. “You… you called me Trivia.”

“Is that all right? I’m sorry. I thought you preferred it. Or was that a lie?”

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