Prue stiffened at her mother’s words, as if the apology was as good as a confession. In a swift movement, Prue dropped Cyrus’s hand, but only so she could step closer to her mother. “Is this true, Mama? Are you—are you Gaia?”
Gaia continued to stare blankly at her daughter. “I am.”
Prue shuddered, then balled her hands into fists. In that moment, Cyrus knew that Prue had embraced her anger. It melted away her shock, transforming her into the fiery and defiant witch he knew so well.
“How. Dare. You.” Each word was a hiss. An accusation. Power thrummed in the air from Prue’s words as if she had cast a powerful spell.
Gaia only blinked, seemingly unaffected by Prue’s rage.
“More lies?” Prue shouted, spreading her arms. “Should I really be surprised at this point? I guess I should ask who my father is—he wasn’t just some nameless soldier you met in passing, was he? Was he a god, too?” She laughed without humor. “All this time! Goddess, all this time, and you’ve been Gaia? You could’ve done so much more for our coven, for Krenia—for Mona!” Prue’s fury exploded in a palpable wave that sent shivers down Cyrus’s body. “Mona died, and you did nothing!” Her voice ended in a scream that echoed and reverberated against Cyrus’s bones. Vines crawled out of the ground, mingling with thorns and brambles that clawed forward, eager to attack.
For the briefest of moments, Gaia’s eyes filled with sorrow. “I couldn’t change anything. Your sister’s fate was sealed long ago.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means my powers are bound, Prudence. I’ve been imprisoned in this realm, in this form.” Gaia gestured to her own body.
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” Prue spat, her arms trembling. “Poor Gaia, trapped in a mortal body, cursed to raise twin daughters and lie to them their entire lives, cursed to live among a coven of witches who love and adore her. Yes, you’ve truly suffered, haven’t you, Mother?”
Gaia’s eyes darkened for a moment. “You know nothing, Prudence.”
“You’re right! I know nothing, thanks to you. And you know what? I don’t care! I don’t care who imprisoned you or why. I don’t care who my real father is. I don’t care about your past or your powers or any of it. All I care about is the fact that you let Mona die. That alone proves to me you never loved us at all.” Prue’s voice became level and eerily calm, but Cyrus knew better. This was simply the calm before the storm. “You can rot in Hell for all I care.”
Cyrus sucked in a breath. In the distance, thunder rumbled, and the clouds in the sky darkened. A storm was coming indeed.
Uncertain, Cyrus glanced around and found Vasileios watching the two witches argue with a broad smile on his face. A hungry gleam glinted in his eyes.
Oh, gods. That couldn’t be good. Cyrus had no doubt his brother could feel the energy rippling in the air, the threat of a battle to come.
Vasileios was hoping Prue would destroy Gaia on her own. And with Prue’s fury, she just might.
Cyrus stepped forward and took Prue’s hand in his. Her fingers were still curled into a tight fist that wouldn’t relax, and her skin felt hot and sweaty.
“Prue,” Cyrus muttered in warning.
“Don’t,” she bit out, not once breaking eye contact with Gaia.
“Prue,” Cyrus said more insistently.
“What?” she snarled, finally whirling to look at him. Her lavender eyes were wild and slightly crazed, her face blotchy and flushed. She looked unhinged.
Cyrus held her gaze, refusing to back down. In a low, steady voice, he said, “She’s a goddess. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”
“Oh, so now you’re going to lecture me about reining in your powers? About schooling your emotions? Isn’t that rich.” She scoffed, sounding nothing like herself. This woman before him was a stranger, something mangled by anger and betrayal.
He could recognize that all too well. He had to bring her back before she was lost completely.
Though every instinct of his warned him to stay back, to protect himself from the incoming storm, he drew closer, placing his hands on both her shoulders and forcing her to look into his eyes.
“You are mine and I am yours,” he whispered, his thumbs tracing circles on her shoulders. “If you wish to murder this goddess in front of us—if that’s truly what you desire—then I will stand by your side and help you butcher her into a thousand pieces.” He paused as a frightening luster filled her eyes at his violent promise. “But I need you to be certain. Please, Prue. I cannot lose you.” His hands moved from her shoulders to the back of her neck before his fingers tangled in her hair. She closed her eyes, her eyebrows knitting together in part arousal, part confusion as his hands framed her head, tilting her back so her face lined up with his, her nose brushing against his cheek.
“My wife,” Cyrus murmured. “My heart. My soul. I am yours to command. I am here. Stay with me, darling.”
Prue’s eyes opened, and heat burned in her gaze, fueling the fire churning in his belly. “I am yours and you are mine,” she whispered in agreement.
Relief flooded Cyrus’s chest as he nodded encouragingly.
After a long exhale, Prue’s body deflated, her shoulders drooping. Slowly, she turned away from Cyrus to face Gaia once more, but her body was more relaxed. The thorns and vines receded back into the earth.
