Page 11 of Bought By the Manticore

“It’s a complicated situation,” Aion replied. “We’re not going to let him hurt her. But this feels wrong, Theron. Every day, we come out here and tend what’s left of him.”

The furry one was Theron. The name surfaced in my scattered mind more easily than Aion’s had. And I remembered him even more clearly. As if the seed Phix and Aion had planted was finally letting me reach the lost remnants of my past.

“He grows back,” Theron reminded Aion gently. “He always grows back. We’re not destroying him. We can’t. You know that.”

“I do. I just wish there was another way.”

Silence settled between them, too heavy, unnatural. Aion dissolved another cluster near the steps, and Theron cleared the south stretch. I kept pushing toward the infirmary while they kept turning me away. The routine played out as it always did. Except watching them felt entirely different now that I had their names.

But in the end, my memories of them didn’t matter. Or if they did, they couldn’t stop me. If anything, they only made my fierce ache for Ianthe more intense.

She was the only thing in Asphodelia that made the hunger go quiet. The only thing in my entire existence that made sense.And so, I kept going. I pushed another cluster toward the door. Aion dissolved it. Theron let out a frustrated curse. “He’s not going to stop,” he observed, circling back to the entrance.

“No.” Aion knelt and held his sphere close to my latest attempt. “He’s not.”

“He’s never pushed this hard in one direction before.”

“No. He hasn’t.” Aion paused, and there was something expectant in the air. His death energy vibrated with a strange emotion I couldn’t quite understand. “I think I should visit her,” he finally said. “Ianthe.”

Theron turned, shooting him a curious look. “What for?”

“Medea wanted to check on Ianthe, but she’s concerned about her own necromancy causing another episode. So I’ll go instead.” Aion rolled his shoulders, and the bronze caught the crystal light. “I think I’ll bring her one of my father’s scrolls. Something to aid her in her recovery.”

Theron went still. His claws flexed against the death sphere in his grasp—once, twice. “Your father wrote those for you, Aion. That’s very generous.”

“You and I have both found our mates,” Aion replied. “We can afford to be generous.”

Every asphodel along the avenue went still. The stems pressing toward the infirmary relaxed. The blooms that had been snapping at Theron’s legs settled against the stone and stopped reaching.

I had been fighting all morning. Pushing, growing, being dissolved, growing again—the same blunt approach that had gotten me nowhere. But this… This had promise.

Skaros must have known how to be patient, how to bide his time. I could do that, too. For my mate.

“He’s stopped,” Theron said, immediately noticing the change.

“Good.” Aion knelt to dissolve the last cluster near the steps. His silver hair swung forward as he bent, the strands hanging close to my stems. His hands were occupied with the sphere.

I loosened a single petal from the nearest bloom and slipped it into his hair. It was small, unnoticeable. It carried a piece of what I’d been—and most importantly, of my yearning for Ianthe.

Aion straightened and set aside the sphere. “I’ll be back after the visit,” he told Theron. “Keep clearing the south stretch.”

Theron grunted and turned back to the overgrowth. Aion was already walking away, intent on his new task.

I let the rest of my asphodels go quiet. Theron moved through them, and I offered no resistance. My flowers unraveledobediently, their energy streaming into his sphere. He could have the avenue. He could have every bloom on it.

One petal still remained in Aion’s hair, stubborn and hopeful.

One petal was enough.

Aion came to see me two hours after I returned to the infirmary. Iaso had briefly left the room, presumably to ‘look into other important matters’. Whatever that meant. I was tired and bored, and bored of being tired. It was a feeling I’d grown accustomed to in my village. I hadn’t expected to experience it again here, in Asphodelia.

The metal colossus made for a welcome distraction. He didn’t enter the room, not immediately. Instead, he bowed, far more gracefully than his bronze frame should have allowed. “Good afternoon, Ianthe. I am Aion. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Not at all,” I replied. There was something very soothing about his presence, despite his intimidating size. “Though I must admit, I don’t know why you’d find me interesting.”

All the monsters at the bride market had been frenzied by my arrival, but he hadn’t been in the crowd at all. And he certainly didn’t look at me that way now. Was he different because of his metallic body?

Maybe if I hadn’t been so tired, I’d have asked.