Page 25 of Prince of Ruin

My entire body goes cold and I nearly drop the skull.You killed your own father, skinned him alive and stretched his skin over your battle drum.

“And that drum over there?” I look across the room at the drum in the corner. “That drum was made from my father’s skin?”

Abaddon follows my gaze, then peers back at me and tilts his head. On anyone else, the tilt of the head would look inquisitive. On the king of bats, it looks eerily predatory. A shudder rolls through me, so violent I think I’m going to pass out.

I killed my father. No—Clavicle killed his father. And I’m supposed to pretend to be this viciousking who drinks wine from his father’s skull and beats a drum made from his father’s skin.

The room sways. Abaddon frowns, then chucks my chin with his talon again, lifting it until I meet his gaze.He looks genuinely concerned.

“How much…doyou remember? And when did your memories return?” His eyes narrow and that chaotic grin returns. “Or was it Mandible who spilled the beans?”

“Who?”

“Mandi. Your aunt.”

I choke, and this time can’t swallow it down.

“I, um, remember a little bit,” I lie. “But some of it is foggy.” Maybe he’ll clue me in on the main details. Enough that I can get by on. I stare at the skull in my hands, tempted to set it aside, but then decide I could probably use the alcohol right now. Loosen up. My only other option is to die from a panic attack. Lifting the mug to my lips—fashioned from this Clavicle’s late father’s skull, apparently—I take a deep drink. Fire soars down my throat. Coughs wrack my lungs, and I wheeze in a sharp breath. That’s no human wine, that’s for sure.

“Faerie wine,” Abaddon confirms with a chuckle, taking the mug from me. “Like I said, it’s a bit strong for humans, but one sip should set you at ease. You’re as tense as a young bat performing his first mating ritual.”

Another cough chokes out of me—this one not from the wine. “That’s, um, good.” Strong, but…I need more. I reach for the mug, but he slaps my hand away with his wing.

“Easy there, little king.” His chuckle is low. “Let’s see how that one sip does before you chug the whole thing.”

I glower at the skull, then briefly wonder whatmyskull would look like as a mug. The thought is mildly entertaining, and I know Abaddon was right. This shit is strong, and it’s already messing with my head.

“My goddess,” Abaddon whispers huskily. He stares at me with those large black eyes, as though he’s afraid that if he blinks I’ll disappear. “I can’t believe you’re here. I replayed our first meeting over and over in my head over these past decades. Do you remember?”

My throat bobs. Abaddon’s eyes flicker down to track its movement.

“Vaguely.” I continue to stare at the skull. “Maybe another sip will help bring back the memories,” I say, reaching for the skull, but again, Abaddon slaps my hand away with his talon, a low chuckle escaping him.

“You’re as bad now as you were as a Fae.” His laugh is wild and free now as he takes a step back from me, his grin revealing that row of sharp white teeth. “Wanting to drink your problems away. Seeking escape through spirits. We are marching into battle tomorrow, and I need younotto behungover.”

I mutter a swear as he picks up the skull mug and drains the contents right in front of me. “To get rid of the temptation,” he teases with a wink as he sets the skull aside.

“You’re a terrible host.”

He chuckles darkly. “There you are, Clavicle. I knew a little faerie wine would bring you back.”

Crossing my arms over my chest in a pout, I gesture with one hand. “Tell me about our first meeting, then.”Make him believe you remember everything.“My human brain is incapable of rememberingeverythingfrom my past life.”

“I remember when I first saw you.” He reaches out with his taloned wing, caressing my cheek. A shudder rushes down my spine, and while I know I should jerk away, I lean into the cool claw.Home. Some part of him screams home to me. “I mean,reallysaw you for who you were. Who youare.”

“How…how do you remember it?” I boldly meet his gaze, my body warming from that one drink of faerie wine. Pressing my hand against his humanoid muscled chest, I step closer. His lips part with a sharp inhale, and that longing fills his dark eyes as I tilt my head back to meet his gaze. “Tell me everything.”

“Your future as sovereign was set in stone. You were the heir,” he says. “But that wasn’t enough for you. You shook—literally shook the world when you murdered your father in cold blood.”

My spine stiffens. “And you…found that attractive?”

He releases a short breath, his wings twitching. “It was the hottest thing I’d ever witnessed.”

I force a cool grin that’s way out of place in this nightmare, but the alcohol is doing weird things to my mind. “I was bad, wasn’t I?”

His breath shudders. “Remarkably evil.” His lips curve up into a smile as he moves his wings toward me, his talons hooking onto my shoulders. “I was in court the day you strode into the throne room, your fingers curled around your father’s long, bone-white hair as his head hung from your fist, blood still dripping from his jugular. You’d sawn off his antlers, and only white stubs poked out of his hair. Whispers and gasps rippled through the room, everyone parting as you made your way to the Throne of Bones and claimed your spot as Spine Sovereign.”

He smirks fondly and looks out the window, as if reliving the memory. “That smug smile on your face when you leaned back in your Throne of Bones, crossing one booted leg over the other…that was the moment I knew I had to fuck you.”

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