Page 21 of Prince of Ruin

The static noise of water fills my ears and I slam my glasses against my face so I don’t lose them in the current. I’m kicking my legs and reaching for anything solid, but there’s nothing but water, water, water all around me and an angry current pulling me deeper.

My feet scrape against the muddy ground. Before I lose the traction, I kick myself up, reaching for the surface of the bog. My head breaks out of thewater and I suck in a sharp breath, thrashing my arms to keep from sinking. I clamber to the shore and collapse onto my back, dragging air to my lungs.

I take my glasses off and shake the water off my face and hair, then use my finger to smear the drops off the lens, though it does little good. When I put them back on, everything is still smeared. I stare at the branches above. The trees suddenly seem larger than the ones I left behind. No moon shines like it was moments ago. The sky is just dusky and dark.It’s more humid here, warmer, like summer.

I breathe in, more slowly this time, inhaling a strong sulfuric scent that nearly chokes me. Some strange energy infuses my body, like everything packed beneath the dirt—living and dead—is whispering into the marrow of my bones. When my glasses seem to clear, I sit up and scan my surroundings, and a sense of trepidation makes my back muscles tighten.

This isn’t the same place I was five minutes ago. I glance across the bog to find Mom already wringing out their long bone-white hair—which isn’t so coarse anymore. No—it’s as silky as Tarsus’ hair, nearly glowing against the dark. They seem taller now, somehow. Their ears are pointed, their skin flawless as porcelain, and they look thirty years younger.

It’s Mom…but it’s not.

I can’t breathe. I feel like the whole world is collapsing on me, and I’m reaching out for the one hand that’s always been there to guide me, but the hand belongs to someone I don’t even recognize anymore.

No wonder nothing I ever told Mom seemed important enough to hold their attention. They’re not even from our world. How petty and shallow the worries of humans must be to them. Running out of milk, school grades, doing the dishes, mowing the lawn. All those trivial matters must all seem like silliness to Mom. Their whole life has been an act.

Mywhole life has been an act. I’ve been the star actor, with Mom pulling the strings.

“So literally my whole life has been a lie.” The words escape my lips in a shocked whisper.

They turn fully to face me. “Clav.” They say my name quietly, their eyes filled with a tenderness I’m not used to seeing in them as they round the bog. Reaching out, they cup my cheek, but I stumble back from them, my heart thundering in my chest. They frown slightly. “It was for your own protection.”

“Did you even love me? Or was I just some duty to you?” I rake my eyes over their unearthly tall and lean body, taking in the flawless skin of their face. “What the hell are you?”

Their eyes shine, nearly glowing silver despite there not being any moonlight. “I left my home behind so I could be with you.” Even their voice is younger,more crisp than it ever was before. “I know I don’t express my love the way many human parents do. But I gave up everything to watch over you in the mortal world. And I would do it all over again if I had to. And if you ever decide to return to the mortal realms, I will stay by your side until your dying breath.”

Until your dying breath.I wonder if Fae are immortal. If Mom will live forever.

The sincerity in their eyes nearly makes my heart break. Because Mom has never spoken to me like this, looked at me like this.

“Does Dad know?” I snap, not hiding the bitterness from my voice.

“He knows nothing of this realm, nor is he from here.” They speak in that low timbre, and I have to trot to keep up and hear everything they’re saying. “Your real parents, your Fae parents…are gone. Your mother died in childbirth centuries ago. You never knew her.”

I blink. “Excuse me.” I swallow. Hard. “Did you saycenturies?”

“Oh, honey. This is all so much for youto comprehend, isn’t it?” They stroke a finger down my cheek—a cool, young, long finger—and it’s probably the most affection they’ve shown me in years. “I forget you have a mortal mind right now, limited to so much information.”

I flinch and pull away.

“All your previous memories were wiped away when you took on a mortal form.”

My jaw hardens. I have never felt more estranged from my own mother than I do now. Like a giant, cold wall has been erected between us. Like they’re nothing more than a stranger with the uncanny appearance of my mother. Chills pop out on my skin.

“Did you ever love Dad?”

They sigh heavily. “He was…a great protector.”

I don’t press the issue. I don’t really want to know any more about how Mom felt about being stuck with me in the mortal realms and how inconvenient it was for them. How they must have felt like they were wasting their life in a world they cared nothing about. Waiting for me to grow old. Waiting for me to die so they could be done with their duties. How trivial my life seems now. How utterly shallow.

“Come now,” they whisper. Their throat convulses in a swallow and they lower their hand. “We’re headed to the colony of bat-folk. You must make Abaddon believe you remember everything.”

Abaddon. The one who’s been sending all those bat creatures to get me.

“And if I don’t convince him?”

Mom stills, then looks at me over their shoulder, their gray—no,silver—eyes filled with trepidation. “If you don’t convince Abaddon that youare Sovereign Clavicle, the Prince of Ruin, the ruler of the Spine Empire…then he may kill you.”

My throat closes. It’s suddenly too hard to breathe. Home. I want to go home. I want to sit in front of the TV and watchAncient Alienswith Dad while we eat out of a giant bucket of popcorn.

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