Page 31 of Prince of Ruin

All I have to do is sacrifice myself to her boiling lava, and this will be over. That’s what Mother Terra told Wolfsbane a week ago. The plan was to bring Clavicle home and hope that he would care enough for his empire to convince Mother Terra to spare the world.

He very clearly doesn’t give a shit and would rather cower in the human realms.

Unexpected tears prick my eyes as I stare at the blurring flames before me. He seemed so normal at the Ren Faire. Talked about his family like he loved them. Talked about his human father like he was protective of him. That horseback ride we took together, the way he made me feel as he made love to me, being so gentle with me and watching my body language.

I shake his memory away, try to focus on a new plan to calm Mother Terra’s temper. She’s a goddess, there’s no option of killing her. Wolfsbane and Claviclewere our only options to deter her. Which means we’re down to our last resort, which is me offering myself up so she spares everyone I love.

The volcano is a three-day journey on foot from here. Tarsus would never let me get that far, and I know that if they stopped me, I would let them. I’m not ready to die. Which is why they can’t know about my plan.

But tomorrow…tomorrow the bat-folk are coming for me. Tarsus intends to fight, and I’ll let them think I’m hanging back in the safety of the palace as they protect me. Only Ash knows that I plan to turn myself in before the battle gets too bloody. And she only knows because she’s the one who will transport me there.

More tears stain my cheeks until I’m sobbing. Boys aren’t supposed to cry, but I kind of get an out for this being my last night alive, right?

Relief floods me when the portal opens in the middle of the bedroom and Ash steps through the black portal of wind and storm, Tarsus behind her.

Dropping the book I’m reading, I leap out of the plush bed and embrace them both. “Everything okay?”

Tarsus pulls away and studies me closely. “Have you been crying?”

Ash’s russet eyes flare as she immediately snaps to attention. But the look I find there tells me she knows exactly why I’ve been sobbing.

“I’m worried about you,” I tell Tarsus.

“Oh, sweetie.” Tarsus tugs me into another hug, stroking their long fingers through my hair. They’re at least two feet taller than me, another foot if you factor in their massive antlers, and I rest my head upon their muscular chest, wrap my arms around their narrow torso. “I’ll be fine. I have my powers, I have an army. The bat-folk will surrender before too much damage is done.”

“So you’re still planning on marching out?” I ask, pulling away.

“We’ll continue as planned.” Tarsus removes their white cloak and tossing it onto a nearby chair. They have a far-off look in their silver eyes, telling me something more than the battle is on their mind. “As long as Clavicle doesn’t magically show up, we should be good.”

The mere mention of Clavicle’s name makes my body grow cold. He had me in his clutches. He could have…he would have killed me if Tarsus didn’t show up in time. I close my eyes, cursing myself for my stupidity. Tarsus told me Clav was conniving. A master trickster. I should have believed them.

Seeming to sense my distress, Ash steps closer, places her palm on my cheeks, and tilts my face up to meet her russet eyes.

“Fae are masters of deception,” she says, her panther-like tail switching behind her. “Even in their human forms. You are wise, Aden, but you still give others the benefit of the doubt too often. It was one thing to look past Sovereign Wolfsbane’s ignorance—a product of their upbringing—when it came to humans. But Clavicle is vicious, not ignorant. Don’t let him deceive you.”

My throat clicks in a hard swallow, but I nod. “He was too perfect, anyway.” He didn’t flinch at my chest scars. He didn’t have any problem getting on his knees to suck my strap-on dildo. And when he took control… I shudder. If I had a cock, it would be hard right now. I liked how rough he was, but maybe that should have been a red flag.

The smell of honeysuckle grows stronger as Ash leans in and brushes her lips across mine. “I’m sorry for what he did to you,” she whispers against my lips, and now I do have a hard-on, dick or no dick. “He’s an asshole for tricking you like that.” She gives me one more chaste kiss, then steps back and looks between me and Tarsus. “Are you sure you don’t want any help in the battle tomorrow?”

Tarsus shakes their head. “We’ll obliterate them with hardly a fatality on our part.”

Her blood-red lips quirk up, and she flings her long black braids over her shoulder. “Very well. I’ll return and check in on you tomorrow.” She casts me one more glance, promising to hold up her word to retrieve me tomorrow, then disappears through the seam.

Once the seam closes, silence fills the room. I look at Tarsus, noting the far-off look has returned to their eyes as they sink onto their bed and unlace their black leather boots, their back rigid. Our room is huge, with wyvern skulls mounted upon the walls, a polished black marble floor, and a massive fireplace where a furnace is already roaring, providing warmth against the autumn chill. Or is it a chill from the smoking volcano blocking out the sun for the past week?

The bed is a double king with black silk sheets and a bone-white canopy hanging over the bed from the four posts made of wyvern femurs. Running along one wall is a book case filled with my own novels and with Tarsus’ books on the history and lore of the Spine Empire. A plush sapphire rug takes up the space between the chairs by the fire.

Tarsus looks different without their usual make-up on. Colder. More masculine. Their lips are pulled in tight, their brows furrowed in deep thought. I know seeing Clavicle does a number on Tarsus. They started out as teen step-siblings when Clavicle’s father—the Spine Sovereign—married Tarsus’ mother. ThenTarsus’ mother died shortly after. With Tarsus losing their mother and Clavicle having an absent father who cared more about leading than he did his family, the two developed a bond that evolved into love.

For decades they were lovers…until Clavicle decided he’d had enough of his father being king and took matters into his own hands, killing his own father.

It was all downhill from there, according to Tarsus. Once he wore the Crown of Teeth, Clavicle became as power-hungry as his father…and as paranoid. I guess killing a sovereign and taking his throne would make you watch your own back constantly, especially when another kingdom is pushing up against your borders.

That’s why Clavicle upped the annual sacrifices to every full moon, practically living in the caverns that wove throughout the great volcano, where he developed a new romance with the bat king, Abaddon. It wasn’t the blossoming romance between the bat king and Clavicle that upset Tarsus—it was the cruel way Abaddon seemed to change Clavicle, making him heartless and greedy for more human blood.

“What are you doing?” Tarsus asks when I crawl behind them on the bed and begin combing my fingers through their long, bone-white locks.

“Helping you relax.” I comb most of the knots out—it’s not hard when their hair is so fine—thenmove their hair over one shoulder and begin kneading the muscles in their back. Tarsus is that perfect place between muscular and lean. They’re strong, but slender and fine-boned. They turn their head slightly, the firelight bouncing off their chiseled jawline.

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