Page 21 of Bought By the Manticore

8

The Grave

Ianthe

For three days, I drank Eryx’s draught.

Every morning and every evening, Iaso handed me the small vial. Every time the liquid slid down my throat, the numbness took hold. The medicine did exactly what Eryx had promised. It put the pain to sleep. The jagged pressure against my ribs vanished, and I could draw a full breath without bracing for agony.

I knew the potion didn’t cure the Thorn-Sickness. It merely masked the symptoms, leaving the parasite to grow quietly beneath my skin. But the relief was undeniable, and so was the routine.

When I slept, Skaros still came to me.

The potion numbed my nerves, but it couldn’t keep him out. He slipped past the frost, easing his essence into my breath to meet me in the misty garden of my dreams. We spent hours in that shared sanctuary. He held me. We spoke in the quiet language of minds pressed together.

But a subtle distance lingered between us.

It wasn’t a boundary created by the medicine. It was an emotional chasm. His profound frustration pulsed beneath the surface of our connection. He was forced to borrow my dreams just to possess a face and a voice. I was a woman living a half-life, spending my waking hours half-numb so I could fall asleep and see him.

We were both ghosts, haunting a space between life and death. The deeper our bond grew in the dark, the more I resented the waking world. I wanted him to be real. I wanted to open my eyes and see the golden mane and the amber eyes, not just the smooth, creeping vine. I could feel him holding back, burdened by the reality of his own unraveled existence.

I was sitting on the edge of my bed on the third afternoon, staring at the polished basalt floor, when the wooden door of the healing chamber opened.

Iaso stepped inside, accompanied by a woman with cascading silver hair.

“Ianthe,” Medea said, her lips curving into a warm, genuine smile. “It’s so good to see you awake.”

I stood up. My legs held my weight easily, free from the exhaustion that had once crippled me. “Medea, I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I asked to visit,” she explained, glancing at Iaso. “She agreed that a short walk in the fresh air might do you some good, provided you feel up to it.”

I looked toward the doorway. Skaros was here, hidden in this room. But he couldn’t manifest during the day without the harvesters coming to erase him. Perhaps it would do me good to leave the healing wing, just for a little while. “I feel perfectly fine. I would love a walk.”

Iaso retrieved a simple shawl and draped it over my shoulders. “Don’t push yourself, child. The draught numbs the pain, but your body is still fragile. If you feel faint, Medea will bring you straight back.”

“I will,” Medea promised.

We left the healing chamber together, emerging into the echoing corridors of the infirmary. The air, carrying the scent of damp stone, grew cooler as we approached the main doors.

As we crossed the threshold into the silver-blue twilight of Asphodelia, Medea hooked her arm through mine. She was wearing gloves today, no doubt an attempt to protect me. “Thismust be so difficult for you, Ianthe. I hope you know, Asphodelia doesn’t mean you harm.”

“I do know that,” I replied. “Iaso and Eryx have helped me so much with the Thorn-Sickness. It’s just… Everything here is so different.”

Medea guided me down an obsidian avenue and over an arched bridge. Underneath us, black water flowed through majestic canals. Dark barges glided silently through the mist. Death crystals flourished everywhere. But most notably, there were no asphodels.

I couldn’t find a way to ask Medea about it, so I changed the subject. “How did you manage it? Finding your mate for the first time?”

It should have been a simple enough question. After all, we’d spoken about it before. Several times. Yet, this time, Medea hesitated.

“I suppose… It’s a long story. And with everything that’s been happening, it has weighed heavily on me.”

I waited for her to say more, but she didn’t. Instead, she kept walking in silence, guiding me farther away from the main city.

The path finally opened into a massive, sprawling garden. It unfolded before a grand structure carved directly into the bedrock of the island. And as far as the eye could see, there were asphodels.

I could feel him again. Skaros. Almost as deeply and intimately as I did in the infirmary. “What is this place?” I asked.

“This is Phix’s garden,” Medea murmured, catching my expression as we approached. “Her den is nearby.”