Page 35 of Prince of Ruin

We step outside where an army of a few thousand bats awaits.

“Long live the Spine Sovereign!” someone shouts when we step out, and then others chime in, until they’re all shouting, “Long live Sovereign Clavicle!”

I shudder with the enormity of their attention—their expectation of me. I almost smile and nod my thanks, but then remember my supposedly cold heart. Instead, I lift my chin and stride through the parted crowd to—to my waiting…

“D-dragon?”

“Wyvern.” Mandi corrects. “Dragons have four legs.”

Sure enough, the black wyvern—who’s about as tall as a giraffe—stands on only two hind legs as it stretches its head toward the sky and impatiently flaps its giant membranous wings. It’s saddled and armored, as if I’m, like, expected to ride it or some shit like that. I halt in my steps, but Mandi gently takes my arm and tugs me along before too many people notice.

I lean toward Mandi. “How, um, am I supposed to steer this thing?”

“Same way you steer a horse, dear.”

Except a horse won’t eat me whole. I’m beginning to see all the reasons for those horseback lessons as a child. All the reasons for those battle stories growing up. And fencing lessons? Seemed bougie in the town I grew up in, for someone living in an old haunted house, but I get it now. It almost seems like Mandi has been preparing me for my return all this time, knowing I would one day come back. They are certainly at home here, greeting bat-folk they haven’t seen in two decades.

My hands are slick with sweat by the time we arrive at a massive wyvern with black scales. When the dim light breaking through the clouds above catches those scales just right, they almost appear iridescent.

“Remember,” Mandi whispers to me when I stop before the beast and gape. “The bats have your back. They are your subjects, and will obey every command. Don’t be afraid.”

I nod. Fine. I won’t be afraid. I’m going to die today. Nothing scary about that. Time to accept that fact. And maybe it’s better I die by falling off a large dragon—I meanwyvern—than by the sword of some dick regent.

Mom helps me climb the ladder built into the saddle. The wyvern shakes its massive head as its hawk-like eyes dart around its surroundings like a bird of prey. I chew my lip as I cling to the reigns of the beast and scan the armies. All these people arecounting on me. The fate of the continent is counting on me.

Abaddon soars my way, then lands on the ground in front of my wyvern, tucking his wings in tight.

“Abaddon,” I say, breathless as I scan the armies awaiting my orders. “Tell me everything this Tarsus has done to you and my people. Tell me why you think I should kill them.”

“Besides kicking you off your throne, cursing you, and claiming the empire for themself?” He says, his voice so deep and authoritative that it makes me shudder, “Tarsus is not doing a gods-damned thing to stop the volcano from wiping out their people. And they have the power to. They know my colony lives within these caves, but they are doing nothing to spare us…or their Spine Fae. Who will also get wiped out. They want the power the throne provides, but they don’t want the responsibility of protecting their people that comes with it.”

And there it is. The red. The red that makes fire roar through my blood as all the sounds drown out in the heat of my fury. The red that makes me do stupid things.

I decide in that moment, Ihaveto live. I can’t just show up and hope that’s enough. No, I’ll conquer this evil ruler. I’ll take them down and take my place on the throne. It’s the least I can do after abandoningmy people for over two decades. And once I take my throne, I’ll not only somehow, magically, by means unknown by me, stop the volcano from erupting, but I’ll also stop the human sacrifices.

That thought alone spurs me on, gives me at least one thing I understand that is worth fighting for.

I’m going to save the bat folk. I’m going to save the humans. I’m going to saveeveryonefrom the volcano’s wrath. Renewed fervor spills through my veins, and I pull my sword from the scabbard, but it’s heavier than I anticipated, not to mention I’m not used to not having a pinky—and it falls to the ground.

Fuck.

“Too heavy.” Abaddon chuckles, his ears twitching in amusement. “Where’s your obsidian dagger?”

I blink, trying to remember. My hand finds it in my belt, where Mandi tucked it this morning.

“Here.”

“Good,” Abaddon says. “That dagger has the ability to turn your enemies to ash with one scratch.”

My eyes widen at the reminder, my brain screaming at me for carrying such a lethal weapon.

“Use it on Tarsus the moment you see them. And don’t half-heartedly try to stab them, Clav. You have to sink that dagger into their throat with all your strength.”

I think I’m going to throw up.

“Remember, me and my armies are sworn to protect you,” Abaddon says, seeming to sense my panic. He flaps his wings, stirring up the dust, and rises several feet above me, shouting, “Long live Sovereign Clavicle!”

The eager response of cheers feeds my courage. Is this what Abaddon meant when he said my mere presence would give them the strength they need to win?

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