Reign
PRUE
“I have done what I can to heal him,” Marina said to Prue, her voice quiet so as not to disturb Cyrus, who was sleeping. “He will wake when his body is ready. But he has been through an ordeal. And his eye cannot be repaired.”
Prue took a shuddering breath and clutched her chest, then nodded. “I—I understand. Thank you, Marina.”
Marina nodded, then strode for the tunnels, stopping when Prue called after her.
“Marina? Is—Is the coven going to be all right?”
Marina slowly turned to face her, her expression grim. “We lost a lot of witches. And the coven has no leader with Farah—” She broke off, her eyes tightening.
With Farah dead.
Prue’s insides twisted with grief as Marina cleared her throat. “Vivian and I will remain here while we get the coven in order. But it’s likely the witches will never recover from this tragedy.”
Prue’s heart constricted from those words. Never recover. As she watched Marina disappear in the tunnels, Prue wondered how many others would never recover from this.
Mona would never recover her goddess magic.
Cyrus would never recover from losing his eye.
Marina and Vivian would never recover from losing their sister.
Prue would never recover from losing Lagos.
Even though the Titans had been defeated, they had still managed to take so much from everyone.
A hoarse cough echoed behind her, and Prue stiffened. She whirled, finding Cyrus shifting in the bedroll. He groaned, cursing under his breath.
In a flash, Prue was by his side, her fingers wrapping around his arm. “I’m here, Cyrus.”
He had been in and out of consciousness for days. At times, he seemed lucid, speaking to her as if he knew she was there. But he had only been talking in his sleep.
Prue assumed this was the same, until his one eye fixed on her, and a frown creased his features.
“Prue?” His voice was cracked and dry.
Prue hastily lifted a canteen to his lips. He greedily gulped down the water, pausing to gasp as it dribbled down his chin. He coughed again, and she set the canteen down, taking his hand in hers.
“Why… why are you so… blurry?” he squinted his good eye, then tilted his head as if to use his other eye.
He froze.
Prue held perfectly still, waiting for him to acknowledge it. She recalled the last time he had woken up to find his body significantly altered. Upon realizing he was mortal, he lashed out at her, blaming her for his situation.
He had claimed that death would have been preferable.
She braced herself for a similar outburst, holding her breath. Her resolve hardened, and she determined not to hold it against him.
He’s been through an ordeal, she reminded herself. Do not take it personally. He still loves you, even if he will claim otherwise.
Slowly, Cyrus lifted his free hand to touch the black hole where his eye had once been. When he reached it, his hand shook, and he sucked in a sharp gasp.
“I—I’ve lost my eye, haven’t I?” His voice was hollow and dejected.
Prue swallowed. “Yes. Marina says she—she is unable to repair it.”
Cyrus’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and he nodded once. “Well… damn.”
Prue blinked. She hadn’t expected that. She cleared her throat. “Are you—Does it hurt?”
Cyrus shook his head. “Only when I try to squint. It… feels like it’s still there, though. Like there’s something dark hovering in my vision, blocking things from view.”
Prue’s heart clenched with sympathy. With the loss of her ear, she felt a similar blocking sensation on that side of her head, making all sounds a bit more muffled. But Cyrus had already been through so much. Her fingers tightened around his. “I thought I’d lost you,” she said in a broken whisper.
Cyrus’s one blue eye fixed on hers, and it burned with regret. “I’m sorry for frightening you.”
Prue’s expression crumpled, her eyes filling with tears. She leaned closer to him, prepared to burrow her face in his chest, then stopped. He was still healing. What if her touching him brought him more pain?
“Come here,” he urged, his arms wrapping around her. She nestled into his side, and he stiffened.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” She tried to pull away, but he dragged her back to him.
“Don’t you dare,” he muttered, stroking her dark hair and pressing a kiss to her temple.
For a moment, they lay there together, his fingers idly weaving through her curls. She kept her ear on his chest, feeling the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. Each pulse seemed to resonate within him.
Alive.
Alive.
Cyrus is alive.
“Maybe… Maybe Gaia can create a new eye for you,” Prue mused, tracing circles along his chest.
Cyrus’s chuckle rumbled against her. “It’s all right, Prue. I can live without my eye.”
Her brows furrowed, and she sat up to look at him. His expression was so… calm. How was he handling this so well?
“You aren’t upset?” she asked.
He took a deep breath, turning his head to gaze absently at the cavern wall. After a long moment, he said thoughtfully, “No.”
Prue’s lips parted in surprise.
“I thought I would die,” Cyrus explained.
“Truly die. It wasn’t like when I brought you back from the dead.
This time, it wasn’t my choice. And I was fighting harder than I’d ever fought before.
Your face appeared in my mind, and I was…
filled with regret for all the days we wouldn’t share together.
All the moments wasted. The life we could have had…
just gone.” His eye turned glassy with looming tears.
“When I lost consciousness, I expected to awaken as a lost soul in the rivers of the Underworld. I knew I would see you again, but it wouldn’t be the same. ”
His fingers intertwined with hers, and he brought her palm to his lips. Her blood heated when his mouth brushed against the back of her hand.
“I’m just grateful to be here with you now,” he whispered against her skin. “For however long it lasts.”
“You say that like this is temporary,” Prue said with a frown.
Cyrus arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t it? Your people need you.”
“Our people need us. Both of us.”
Cyrus sighed. “They have no use for a crippled king.”
Rage roared within Prue, and she drew back to fix him with a withering glare.
“Don’t you dare insult my husband like that.
You think since you’ve lost an eye that that makes you any less of a king?
Does the loss of my ear make me any less of a queen?
We were both wounded in a battle fought for our people.
Your injury makes you a war hero, Cyrus. Not an invalid.”
“I have made so many mistakes, Prue,” he said in a shaky voice. “So many lives lost because of me. I can’t—I can’t—” He broke off with a shuddering breath.
“You are learning,” Prue said gently. “And so am I. We can learn how to be King and Queen together. I’ll be with you. Always, Cyrus.”
Cyrus stared at her, his eye filled with wonder and awe. “How? How, after all this time, are you still here by my side? How did I manage to snare such a perfect goddess like you as my wife?”
Prue snorted, then smirked at him. “I believe it had something to do with pomegranate seeds and a spell gone wrong.”
He tugged her so she lay against him once more. “There was nothing wrong about it, darling.”
She turned her head to gaze at him. His eye sparkled with delight as he leaned in to kiss her. His lips were soft and tentative, almost as if he were… afraid.
Her hands framed his face, drawing him closer as her tongue glided along his. She refused to let him be gentle with her. She caught his lower lip between her teeth, and he let out a low groan.
“You’re mine,” she whispered. “I don’t care if you’ve lost an eye or an arm or both your legs. Don’t you dare forget that you are mine, Cyrus.”
He was panting, staring down at her in surprise and longing. “I—I’m not the same anymore, Prue. Things will be different.”
She kissed him again, hard and unyielding. “Good,” she said. “Life would be quite boring if things stayed the same, wouldn’t you agree?”
Amusement gleamed in his eye, and the hint of a smile spread across his face. “You are a marvel, wife.”
“As are you, husband.”
His arms came around her, clutching her waist. She straddled him, hovering over him so she could kiss him endlessly. She planned to explore every part of his body, every facet of his being. It didn’t matter how this battle had altered or changed him.
He was hers.
And she was his.
Now and forever.