Page 38 of Prince of Ruin

“What do you suggest we do?” I snap, not taking my eyes off Clavicle.

“Make him surrender,” Aden says. “And take him captive.”

I release Clavicle, and he falls to the ground, dragging air into his lungs as he scoots away from me like a dog that’s been kicked one too many times. His wide eyes are glued on Ash now, as if he’s never seen a vampire with ruby eyes and white fangs and a black tail switching behind her.

“Tell your bats to fall back,” I snap, holding my sword to his throat.

A laugh of ridicule chokes out of him, and the look in his eyes tells me he’s bordering on the line of insanity. “Like they’d listen to me!”

There it is. The sound of his voice threatening to make my legs melt beneath me, commanding I pull him into my arms. But I remind myself of what he did before I cursed him. What he will do if I let him go. I’ve played this fucking game before, and lost. I press the blade harder into his throat, and the sharp edge makes a bead of blood appear.

“Fine,” he says, his voice deceptively shaky. Still sitting helplessly on the ground, he looks toward the skies where a third army of a thousand bats appears. “I don’t know how they’re going to hear me.”

“By using your voice, idiot.”

His chest expands as he takes a deep breath, then shouts, “Bats, surrender! Retreat to the caves!”

The ground trembles beneath us, catching the attention of the armies. As I expected, the bats hear the voice of their master. Their caves are located in the Spine Empire, and they’ll always heed the Spine Sovereign over their own bat king, even if the sovereign’s soul is trapped in a mortal body.

When he notices the colony flocking above, following his orders, his mouth drops open. “Holy shit.”

Abaddon soars closer and hovers above. My heart rate spikes at the mere sight of him, of his cold, black eyes and sharp fangs. “Why fall back, Sovereign Clavicle?” The bat king’s deep voice sends goosebumps across my skin. “We’ve got this.”

“I will handle this…in a morecivilmanner.” Clavicle glares at me with those last two words, as ifIwere the barbarian here. As if he wasn’t the one who started this whole war two decades ago.

The colony swarms above and flies back over the mountaintops toward the Heart of Faerie. ExceptAbaddon. He hangs back, a cruel glint in his eyes as he hovers above us, bat-wings flapping.

“Civil manner, my ass,” Abaddon sneers as he narrows his eyes at my blade pointed at Clavicle’s throat. “Give me back our Sovereign, you unwashed cum stain!” he roars in a deep voice. “And hand Aden over while you’re at it.”

“Not in a million years, you decades-old overused piss bowl,” I snap back.

Abaddon doesn’t even flinch at the insult. “If you kill him, there will be no one around to stop my colony from destroying you next time.”

I grit my teeth in annoyance. I hate how right Abaddon is. If I kill Clavicle, the title of sovereign falls to some distant cousin and may very well toss Aden into the volcano in order to save the continent from destruction.

“Don’t be a fool, Tarsus,” Abaddon hisses. “Give him back.”

“I’ll never release him!” I shout. “Not until he agrees to my terms.”

“What terms?” Clavicle finally says.

I’m surprised he’s kept his mouth shut this long. He’s usually doling out orders and making everyone around him shut up. Right now, he’s watching Abaddon and I toss insults to one another as if we were performing some show for him. Aden, too, stands beside me, a silent wall of support. But I’m usedto him being quiet. He’s the type to say something that really matters when it matters, instead of babbling on like the rest of us.

“Someone explain what these terms are,” Clavicle says again.

“Stop actingstupid, Clavicle.” Gods, I want to kick him for thinking I’d fall for his act.

“He’s notacting,” Abaddon hisses.

“Oh, he’s just that stupid. Okay.” I glare at Abaddon.

The bat’s upturned nostrils flare. “Careful.”

“Fuck off, you overgrown, coagulated blood-clot.”

“Where he goes, I go, puke bag.”

“Both of you SHUT UP.” Clavicle leaps to his feet, scowling at us both, his jaw clenching visibly in the dusky morning light. The scared-human-with-amnesia act is finally gone, replaced with that all-too familiar glare of annoyance. I grin, despite myself. There he is. I was slightly afraid we’d lost him. It’d be so much harder to kill him if we had.

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