Page 77 of Prince of Ruin

“Sometimes I wish you would believe me.”

Aden

It’s an earthquake that pulls me from a deep sleep. I’d woken momentarily to find Tarsus and Clav having some sort of conversation at the edge of the bed. They must have both crawled back under the covers at some point, because now Tarsus is tucked behind me, Clav spooning them from behind.

“Tremors,” Tarsus whispers.

The walls seem to rattle with the earthquake, the tremors growing more violent, then slowing to a stop.

“What the fuck was that?” Clav asks.

“The volcano,” I respond with a wince.

“Clavicle has to go to the mountain,” Tarsus says, their voice low. And when they look at Clav, I swear I see a hint of regret and sorrow. “Now.”

Terror clutches my throat in its icy fingers. Even though he agreed to go, I’m not ready to see Clav go. What if Mother Terra ends him when she finds outhe’s mortal? Worse, what if she unleashes Sovereign Clavicle, who is no-doubt in there somewhere?

The muscles in Tarsus’ throat convulse with a hard swallow. “He has to go. With Wolfsbane. You need to summon Ash so she can take us to Ivy City.”

Dread snakes around my spine like a viper when I look at Clav. How the fuck is this little nerdy human from nowhere, Indiana going to convince a vicious, deadly goddess to stop the human sacrifices?We’ll lose him.Iwill lose him.

“I…I can’t summon Ash,” I finally say. I’d rather send myself in, knowing full well why I’m sacrificing myself, and for whom, than to send Clav in when he doesn’t even belong to this world. At least, not this version of him.

“Do it.” Clav is looking at me with a certain ambition in his eyes that I haven’t seen since that day at the faire. “It’s why you brought me here, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but…I didn’t realize…”

“That you would fall in love with me?” He flashes his signature grin that melts my heart every time.How could he smile like that in these sorts of circumstances?

“You’re a human, Clav,” I say, unable to meet his smile. “Mother Terra is going to eat you for breakfast.”

“Aden,” Tarsus says, their voice low. “Aden, we have to send him. Or everyone will die. So go grabyour fiddle and summon that black-hearted sorcereryou call friend.”

Clav

“This black-hearted sorcerer—does Tarsus mean Wolfsbane?” I ask as I walk beside Aden down the hall. Tarsus went ahead to their room to change into more appropriate clothes to meet with the Cadre, but Aden sticks with me while I pull on my jeans and t-shirt.

Aden smirks. “Yes. Wolf used to be a witch, a Terra witch, just as Tarsus is a bone witch. But witches only use their powers for good, with the oath to harm none. As soon as Wolf sold their soul to their Shadow and killed Elderberry with a curse, they gave up the title of witch and took on the title of sorcerer. A title looked down on by many circles, unfortunately.”

We arrive at their bedroom, where Tarsus is already clothed in their usual violet robes trimmed with silver threads, several hoops in their pointed ears, and chains on their antlers—all beauty and elegance and ruthless arrogance.

I have never set foot inside their bedroom. It’s huge, the size of a small house. Like the rest of the palace, the floor is black marble, the walls bone white. An antler chandelier hangs above, the crystals catching the firelight from the hearth. Long column windows peer out to the city beyond, iron bars keeping anyone from breaking in. And the bed. The four post bed made with black satin sheets is massive, as wide as two king-sized beds placed together, and extra long to accommodate their antlers. Several bookshelves line the walls, and two sitting chairs are angled around the fireplace.

“I’m ready,” Tarsus says, looking at Aden. “Summon Wolf.”

Aden picks up his violin, positioning it on his shoulder before slowly dragging the bow over the taut strings. Beautiful, unearthly music fills the room. I wonder if the fae know that Aden is better at playing the fiddle than most humans. That he’s exceptionally talented. Black wisps of smoke curl between his fingers, and I stumble back. He whispers something to the black ribbons, and they shoot across the room, disappearing into thin air as he stops playing.

“What is that?” I ask breathlessly.

“Remember that Shadow that Wolf sold their soul to?” he asks. “We kind of…share that Shadow. And can communicate through it.”

“What the fuck? But you’re…a human. Does this mean you have magic?”

Aden shrugs. “I haven’t really tried using it, apart from communicating with Wolf.”

“Doing so might make the Shadow infiltrate his soul, too,” Tarsus says, their eyes gleaming. “Using it for yourself would be an invitation in itself.”

I shudder, imagining the thin line Aden is forced to walk. “Is that why you’re so good at playing the fiddle? Does your Shadow help with that, too?”

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