Page 11 of Prince of Ruin

“Dude, that was amazing.”

A look of surprise flits across his features when he sees me. His gaze lingers on my antler crown for a beat too long, then his brows furrow.

“It’s Clav,” I remind him, in case he forgot. “From the library. I’m the…klutz who spilled his latte.”

His brows shoot up as his eyes meet mine again. “Ah. Yes. You’re, um, here early.”

“It’s…seven fifteen.”

“Right, right.” He studies my crown again, and his features soften. “I love the crown. It suits you.”

“I just bought it. It sort of caught my eye, I guess.”And I’m totally not trying to compete with your partner.“I guess I could have worn contacts instead of glasses to really create the Renaissance vibe, but—” I shove my glasses up the bridge of my nose.

“No.” He shakes his head, then bites his lower lip. “The glasses are kind of adorable.”

I don’t know why, but butterflies are set loose in my stomach when he says that. The way his eyes roam over my body while he pinches that lower lip between his teeth, the way he’s studying me almost like he knows me…I almost forget he has a toxic alpha-hole partner.

A partner who threatened me. A partner he never told me about. A partner he could be working with to prank me and my dad.

Clearing my throat, I tear my gaze from him and glance around the faire. “I just got here. Want to…show me around?”

His eyes brighten. “Of course. I think the jousting tournament is starting in fifteen minutes.” He tucks his fiddle into a case and slings it over his shoulder. “Also, I’m starving. Let’s stop at a food truck on the way there.”

As we make our way through the crowd, I try to think up some small talk that would seem casual while also giving me a hint as to whether or not he’s in on the prank.

“So…where are you from, Aden?” I say, loud enough to be heard above the crowd.

“Uh. Well. I grew up in Virginia.”

“Indiana is a long way from Virginia.” I clasp my hands behind my back. “Our faire isn’tthatwell-known.”

He shrugs. “I kind of like to travel around to different faires and festivals around the country. I do a lot of busking with my fiddle.” He offers me a sheepish smile. “I’ve been doing it for years. Kind of taught me how to hold a crowd.”

“And you make enough to live off of that?”

He chews his lower lip. “I live out of my car, so that kind of saves me loads on house payments.”

“And your parents are cool with that? You living out of your car?”

His clover-green eyes meet mine, and suddenly there’s a fierceness in them I didn’t expect but apparently deserve for prying. “My parents kicked me out when I was sixteen years old for being adude. So, no, I don’t think they give a fuck where I live.”

His words hit like a slap to the face, and I feel like an idiot for asking such personal questions. I know what it’s like to have an overstrict, closed-minded parent. My dad is about as conservative as one can get, and I still have a curfew of ten-thirty as long as I’m living under his roof—and I’m fucking twenty-three years old. But my dad has never threatened to kick meout for being a boy. If I identified as a girl, he probably wouldn’t be too thrilled, but I know he wouldn’t disown me.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“It’s been over a decade. It’s fine. I just…don’t really like to talk about it.”

“I’ll respect that.” We walk in silence for a bit. Ancient Celtic music blasts through the area and the crowd bustles around us. Vendors call out their deals while someone dressed like a pirate juggles lit torches.We stop at a few stalls and Aden checks out some throwing knives.

“Do you know how to throw knives?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Not really. But I know someone who does.”

I want to call him out, ask him if it’s his partner he’s talking about. With the way his partner went all out with the costume and act, I wouldn’t be surprised if they also knew how to throw knives. I shudder, imagining them throwing a knife straight into my back for flirting with their partner. I wouldn’t put it past them. Those bruises they gave me are turning a darker shade of gray-blue, but I hide my arm from Aden.

Aden must decide the knives aren’t to his liking, because we continue on through the crowd.

“What about you?” Aden asks. “Do you get along with your parents?”

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