Page 35 of Bought By the Manticore

A single, massive stem rose from the center of the breach. It hovered before my chest for a fraction of a second. Then, it drove straight into me.

I didn’t cry out. The vine passed through my skin and ribs without tearing flesh. It plunged directly into the deepest, darkest knot of the Thorn-Sickness wrapped around my heart.

The frost from Eryx’s potion shattered.

Pure death energy flooded my veins, chasing the chill from my blood. The vine locked onto the very core of the parasite. The sickness buzzed frantically, fighting the intrusion.

Skaros knew. He knew that I’d been hurting in his absence, and he was taking care of me, like he always did.

There had been times when the disease had tried to fight. In the past, he’d never quite managed to free me from it.“I’m not strong enough,”he’d said.“But I’ll keep trying.”

He didn’t need to keep trying. Not today. He ripped the magic completely out of me, absorbing every single thorn. A wave of blinding warmth washed through my limbs as my body was finally made whole. I went limp. My head fell back against the cradle of his leaves, my eyes fluttering shut.

It was different from the soothing numbness of Eryx’s draught and even from the temporary comfort Skaros had provided in the past. This was truth. This was freedom. Finally, my illness was entirely gone.

But I didn’t get the chance to savor the peace. The vines holding my weight trembled, and the stems around me cracked. They burst apart, violently unweaving into thousands of brilliant, silver-blue threads.

It was so much worse than what Eryx had done before. Every single vine, every single flower disappeared, as if it had never been there at all. I dropped the last few inches to the street, landing softly on my knees as my cradle dissolved into light.

It had been a trap. They’d lured him here. They’d used me so they could get to Skaros.

With shaking hands, I reached for the threads of light. I wanted nothing more than to clutch them close, to drag them inside me. Maybe Skaros could live within me like the Thorn-Sickness had. I didn’t think I would mind that.

But the light shied away from me. “Wait…” I croaked out. “Skaros, I…”

Before I could finish my desperate plea, the threads swirled upward, drawn together by a violent pull. The silver-blue light thickened, twisting and knotting in mid-air right in front of me.

The light hardened into bone. Muscle layered over the skeleton in thick bands. Tawny fur sprouted across a massive, broad chest. Two enormous wings snapped open. A long, thick tail whipped against the cracked marble, the barbed tip scoring the stone.

The silver light vanished.

Skaros had appeared in the center of the avenue.

He stood massive on four powerful paws, his broad, muscled chest heaving. A thick mane of spun gold framed his leonine muzzle. His amber eyes burned with a fierce, untamed fire. “Mine!” he snarled.

He let out a terrifying roar that made every single stone in Asphodelia vibrate. In that instant, I knew I was safe again.

For as long as I could remember, there had always been something strange about me.

Skaros, the manticore.

Skaros, the Auctioneer’s son.

Skaros, the maneater.

When Medea had come along and I’d been unwoven, it had been a relief. And then my mind had fallen apart, and with it, so had my memories and my desires.

Ianthe had been the one to guide me, to put me back together when I’d been just a starving thing buried in the ground. But now, I was back—whole, and on my feet again. And the same protective anger coursed through me still, as it had when I was nothing but a cluster of vines and asphodels.

They’d wanted to cast her out into the cold, away from Asphodelia, to leave her to die. They’d wanted to separate us forever.

Every instinct in me rebelled.

“How dare you? How dare you hurt her?”

Everyone was staring at me in disbelief. The Weaveguards had frozen in place. There had never been a resurrection in Asphodelia, not really. Aion had been brought back, but he was a construct. It should have been impossible.

Two of the group stepped forward, ready to attack. Aion and Theron blocked their path and shook their heads. “If Skaros ishere, it is because the Moirae wished it,” Theron said. “Stand down.”