Page 97 of Prince of Ruin

They lift a pinky, but I cover their hand with mine. “I know you will, Mom.”

Their eyes soften at the old title I used for them for twenty-three years.

“Dad is still in the human realms,” I say. “You have him in some sort of glamour, but Mom, he still misses you.”

They roll their eyes and swipe a tear from their cheek. “I never thought it was possible to miss that insufferable bastard, but I do. I miss him terribly.” She pats my hand. “But he’s better off where he is.”

“Is he? Dad has no family to speak of. No demons to fight. His church has given him the cold shoulder because they think he’s lost his mind.”

They push a strand of bone-white hair behind their ear. “Could you see him here in the fae realms? He would die of a stroke the moment he opened his eyes.”

I shake my head. “Mom, Dad is a warrior. He battled eight-foot bats for two decades.” I lower my voice and add, “Successfully capturing, torturing, and freeing most of them. Don’t you think he could survive the fae realms? Perhaps even thrive here.”

They blink, their silver eyes wandering as they think.

“If he hates it, you could always send him back and re-glamour him.”

Mom nods slowly.

“I’ll go with you at dawn,” I say, wiping another tear from their cheek. “We’ll bring him hometogether. I have a room in the palace where you could both stay, if you want.”

“I think I prefer a cottage to the palace,” they say, and we both laugh.

“A cottage it is. Right outside Jawbone City. With flowers and twisting vines and an oak tree for shade. Dad will have the time of his life running off sprites and goblins.”

This brings another laugh out of Mom, wild and free. The first laugh I’ve ever heard from them. I feel like I should be bitter, angry even, that they never revealed this carefree side of themself to me. But they were stripped from their world to live in a foreign realm. And now they’re finally home.

Clav

As promised, Abaddon flies me back to the Skull Palace. The cool autumn air is chilly against my face, but at least the sunlight can reach us now. I ride on Abaddon’s back, my arms slung around his neck as his large, membranous wings beat against the wind. He lands on the balcony hanging off my bedroom chambers and I slip off his back, adjusting my black robes and the decorative chains on my antlers.

We could have made a formal entrance, but I wanted this moment to be more intimate. Not a meeting between a bat king and the three Spine Sovereigns, but more of a discussion.

Aden is curled up in his favorite chair before the fire, a book splayed on his lap and a cup of coffee on the stand beside him, steam curling out of the mug. The sight is so human, so at odds with the nature of this world, it warms my heart, almost making me miss the little things of the human realms. One of the powers Mother Terra gifted me with is the ability to shift into my human form whenever I want. So I’m stillable to go home and visit my town and my library looking like me and not like some seven-foot cosplayer.

Aden’s brows rise at the sight of Abaddon, at the gold rings glinting on each of his six-inch talons. “Not here to collect me as a sacrifice, I hope,” he says with enough bite to make the eight-foot bat flinch. Damn, even I didn’t have the balls to speak to Abaddon like that in my human form.

“Just here to make amends.” Abaddon flashes those white fangs, clearly intending to intimidate Aden, but Aden flashes his own cutting smile in return. Something shifted in Aden when he became sovereign. He’s braver now, more cutthroat than the sweet, demure boy everyone knew. It’s admirable. And since Abaddon nearly killed him just days ago, I can’t exactly blame Aden for his hatred toward the bat. In fact, that new white magic crackles beneath his skin, while those black ribbons of smoke curl between his fingers, ready to strike. Somehow, when he became this human/fae hybrid creature, Aden wields more power than Tarsus or I combined.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

Tarsus enters the room from wherever they were, but stops short when they see Abaddon. Their silver eyes snap to mine.

“What is he doing here?” they ask. “He nearly had Aden killed.”

“It’s time to make amends,” I say. “Mother Terra has calmed down, as has the volcano. No more human sacrifices. Abaddon answers to all of us now.” I look at Aden. “And nobody will be touching Aden.”

Silence fills the room. I really don’t want to play the parent figure and make them apologize. Thank the gods, Abaddon finally speaks, his wings tucked in tight, the six-inch talons gleaming in the firelight.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice low, but sincere. “I’m sorry for nearly killing you, Aden. And I’m sorry for chaining you up, Tarsus.” No excuses. Just a candid apology.

The tension in the air eases. “Seeing things from your perspective,” Aden says, his magic calming down considerably. “I understand why you felt the need to send me to Mother Terra. You had a colony to protect, bat-children who could have had bright futures ahead of them. I forgive you, Abaddon.”

The bat’s wings sag in obvious relief, but he looks at Tarsus next, awaiting Tarsus’ forgiveness.

Tarsus’ lips thin, their silvery eyes shining as though they’re fighting back tears. “You turned Clavicle against me. And then you took Aden from me. And even though you weregenerousenough,” they spit those last two words out, “to allow us those last days together, I’m not sure I’m ready to forgive you, Abaddon. Not now. Maybe…maybe not ever. Because the grief you’ve caused me these past two decades….” Theyswallow, the knot in their throat bobbing as their voice trails off.

“I understand,” Abaddon says, and his ribbed ears seem to deflate in shame. I have never seen the bat-king so defeated. As if he failed me. Failed all of us. Silence once again fills the room, until Aden finally snaps his book shut, making all of us jump.

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