Page 22 of Bought By the Manticore

“But that’s not the reason you brought me here, is it?” I prompted.

Medea didn’t bother to deny it. “You see right through me, Ianthe. Yes, I had another reason.”

We ventured deeper into the garden, into a portion that had been entirely swallowed by the overgrowth. The vines here were as thick as my wrists, shifting in hues from pale green to a deep, burnished bronze. They twisted around each other, forming a dense carpet across the stone. The air vibrated with vitality, and with a quiet sense of resentment.

Medea stepped into the chaotic growth, moving toward the giant mound of asphodels at its center that glowed almost as brightly as the sun in Korinos. Her expression softened into a look of deep sorrow. “This place… It’s also his grave. This is where he fell.”

I stared at the thickest bronze vine in the cluster. “Who?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“Skaros.”

The name left her lips with a delicate reverence. Hearing it spoken aloud in the waking world sent a shiver racing down my spine. I kept my eyes on the vines, afraid that looking at her would give me away.

“He was a manticore,” Medea continued. “A fierce, terrifying creature. He served in the same harvesting unit as Aion and Theron. They were as close as brothers.”

I let her words settle in the quiet of the garden. Aion had visited my bedside, speaking gently of his father’s teachings and offering me a priceless scroll. And I had seen Theron from the infirmary balcony days ago, methodically clearing the pathways. He hadn’t just been performing a chore. He had been tending to the remains of his oldest companion.

“You knew him well,” I said.

Medea let out a small laugh. She looked up at the sky, her silver hair shifting over her shoulders. “I knew him for a very brief, chaotic time. When I arrived in Asphodelia, I was torn. I had found my mate in Aion, but we were forbidden from being together.”

I thought about the bronze colossus who spoke of Medea with such gentleness. They were obviously meant for one another. “What problem?” I asked.

“The laws of the Bride Market are ancient and unyielding,” Medea explained, her voice dropping into a quiet sadness. “To claim a bride, to seal a bond on that stage, a monster musthave a thread. It must be woven by the Moirae. But Aion is a construct, forged from bronze by his father. Legally, he did not exist as a person in the eyes of the Agora. He couldn’t step onto the auction block. And if no one claimed me, I would have been sent away.”

She looked back down at the tangled vines. “So, Skaros stepped onto the block in his place. He was my groom. I chose him.”

The revelation struck me with dizzying force.

My breath hitched. I stared at the silver-haired woman standing beside me, my mind racing. The creature who had visited my dreams, who had held me with such desperate vulnerability, had belonged to someone else. He had been her husband.

A sharp ache bloomed in my chest. It felt wildly misplaced. I had only known him in the dark, through the hazy connection of a dream, yet the idea of him standing beside another woman sent a rush of fierce jealousy through me.

“He was your mate,” I murmured, struggling to keep my voice even.

“In title only. A proxy arrangement so I could stay in the city,” Medea corrected gently, catching the tension in my posture. Her silver eyes softened with understanding. “He did it to protect Aion, but he also did it to protect me. And in truth… he volunteered because he knew he would never truly take a bride of his own.”

I blinked, the sudden jealousy giving way to genuine confusion. “Why?”

“Because he was a predator in the truest sense,” Medea replied, pursing her lips. “He viewed humans entirely as prey. He was a man-eater, driven by a deep, primal hunger for human flesh.”

A man-eater.

The word hung in the air between us, stark and undeniable. I looked down at my own arm, where the raised scars of the Thorn-Sickness lay hidden beneath my shawl.

Skaros had never struck me as predatory. Despite his nature, he’d never done anything to harm me. When presented with my frail body, he hadn’t sought to tear my throat out. When Eryx’s potion had blocked his way, he’d asked for my permission.

“Because my touch was lethal, he knew he could never give in to his instincts and consume me,” Medea continued, oblivious to my thoughts. “It was a safeguard for both of us. He never wanted a mate. He only wanted to help his friends.”

That was the first thing that made sense in this conversation. I clung to it and pressed for details, for anything she’d be willing to tell. “But how did he fall?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “If he was so powerful, what brought him down?”

Medea wrapped her arms around her waist. The sorrow in her gaze deepened. “During my claiming with Aion, the city’s deathenergy violently ruptured. It triggered a chaotic surge. Skaros was standing in this exact spot.”

She knelt, pressing her palm flat against the ground. The flowers gathered around her covered hands, trying to nip at her fingers. “He unwound. Before my eyes, his flesh and fur dissolved into threads of energy. In an instant, he was gone.”

I sank to my knees beside her. My hands trembled as I reached out, resting my fingers against the thickest, most vibrant stalk. It hummed warmly against my skin, recognizing my touch instantly.

“He died for you,” I whispered.