Page 70 of Salt & Blood

For the woman he loved more than his own soul.

Slowly, Cyrus turned to face Apollo once more, resolve coursing through him. Apollo’s smug expression only fueled Cyrus’s motivation to win, to wipe that slimy grin off the sun god’s face.

Apollo spread his hands, eyebrows raised. “Shall we choose our weapons?” He snapped his fingers at one of the Titans behind him, but before they could bring forth an arsenal, Cyrus spoke.

“No weapons.”

Apollo froze, eyes narrowed as he looked at Cyrus with suspicion.

“No weapons,” Cyrus repeated, his voice loud and firm. He wanted to choke the life out of Apollo with his bare hands.

Apollo smirked, then chuckled. “Very well, then. Suit yourself. I can easily kill you with my magic alone.”

Cyrus said nothing. Let Apollo believe he had the advantage. Perhaps he’d forgotten what Cyrus had done to him before. Or maybe he hadn’t noticed that Cyrus had channeled his own magic in front of him.

“Are you ready?” Apollo asked.

Cyrus nodded.

From behind the sun god, Hyperion bellowed, “Let the challenge commence!”

Cyrus immediately broke into a sprint, lunging for Apollo before he could summon his sun magic. He needed to close the distance between them as quickly as possible. His siphoning powers wouldn’t work unless he could touch Apollo.

His opponent reacted quickly. In seconds, Apollo was wielding a brilliant gold orb between his fingers. He flung it toward Cyrus, who dived out of the way, rolling in the dirt to avoid getting struck. He was on his feet once more, gasping for breath, his shoulder burning from the impact.

But he couldn’t let his mortal body slow him down. The fate of his kingdom depended on this.

More light soared toward him. Cyrus ducked, then dived again. This time, the magic seared into his right arm, and he roared in fury. The smell of scorched flesh reached his nose, and he lost all feeling in his upper arm.

He didn’t dare look at the wound. He knew it was bad. If he looked, it would distract him from his task.

Take him down. Then assess your injuries.

Breathing sharply through his teeth, Cyrus moved again. There were only a few steps between them now, but Apollo was circling him, keeping that distance. He knew. He knew what Cyrus was trying to do.

Apollo’s mouth curled into a satisfied smile, and Cyrus knew he was doomed. All Apollo needed to do was keep striking Cyrus from afar until he was too winded to continue. And Cyrus would never get close enough to touch him.

Despair threatened to take over once again, but Cyrus refused to give up. He scanned his surroundings, searching for something he could use to his advantage.

“Regretting not choosing a weapon, nephew?” Apollo taunted.

Cyrus ignored him. A long, jagged stick rested on the ground nearby. He snatched it up, then slashed it in the air directly in front of Apollo. As expected, Apollo reared back to avoid getting hit. Cyrus swung the stick again and again, forcing Apollo backward. The eleven Titans formed a wall behind him; Apollo wouldn’t get far, not without colliding with someone.

Apollo glanced uncertainly over his shoulder, realizing he was running out of space. The Titans shifted, inching backward to give Apollo more room, but Cyrus could tell the sun god was uncomfortable being this close to them. Sunlight burned between Apollo’s palms, and he unleashed his power.

Cyrus dropped, falling flat on his stomach, keeping low to the ground as the power blasted right above him, singeing the top of his hair. Sweat poured down his face as he rose to his feet. He swung his stick wide, arcing to the left. Apollo fell for the bait, shifting to the right. Cyrus let the stick fall, leaping for Apollo and managing to tackle him to the ground.

Before the sun god could retaliate, Cyrus’s hands were on his throat, pressing hard. He bared his teeth and growled, “Your reign ends now, oh great one.”

All the anger and power he felt from before flooded through him. He pictured Prue, her face tear-stained and her neck bruised after Hyperion’s attack. In his mind, he saw Apollo’s apathetic expression, completely unaffected by the fact that his daughter had been assaulted.

Heat burned between Cyrus’s hands, the power growing until his fingers began to quiver with intensity. The air thrummed, and Apollo’s eyes bulged as he struggled to breathe.

A heavy force collided with Cyrus, knocking him backward. He groaned, his arms scraping against the ground as he struggled to rise.

Hyperion’s dark eyes were fixed on him, one arm lifted as dark shadows spilled from his fingers.

Cyrus glared at the Titan. In an ordinary challenge, this was grounds for disqualification. But with the Titans unleashed, anything was possible. Cyrus didn’t want to risk igniting a civil war. If the Titans decided to attack, his people would be the first to die.

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