Page 47 of Prince of Ruin

Aden shoves the last bite of eggs into his mouth, and then this fucking bastard who was playing the fiddle to my death last night has the balls to fuckingwinkat me.

“You can go to hell too,” I snap at him.

His chewing slows, a sly glint in his eyes telling me he’s not a bit phased by my words. I want to say something hurtful, but all I can think about is how I fucked him and then lost my shit on him. He deserves to hate me. An apology almost leaves my lips, but I bite it back. I’m playing the role of a ruthless king, not sweet Clav Thorne. Besides, I already apologized and it did jack shit in my favor.

“So, let’s cut straight to the chase,” I say, looking at Tarsus. “You truly want to stop human sacrifices?”

“It’s why I sent you to the mortal realms, yes,” Tarsus responds, leaning back in their chair and crossing one leg over the other, their robes shifting. “I cursed you away, then swore never to meddle with Shadow Magic again. I immediately put a stop to the human sacrifices once you were gone. But the volcano has been slowly building her wrath over that time, until recently—when she erupted and never stopped. She demanded Aden be thrown in, or she will end this world with her wrath.”

My stomach is tight.

“That was only one week ago, but her wrath is already affecting our lives. An endless cloud of smoke blocks the skies, ash covers the land. Mother Terra has cursed our plants from the roots up, killing off our livestock and wildlife, leaving all the fae with limited food. It won’t be long before she snuffs us out of existence.”

I stare at my plate, my appetite gone. “Is that why you went to war with Abaddon?”

“I marched out to fight Abaddon because that poor excuse of a bat wants to throw Aden into the volcano to end Mother Terra’s wrath, and I won’t let him.”

More news that was left out of Abaddon’s report, and I accidentally let my mask slip. “I didn’t know that.” My voice is quiet when I glance at Aden. His brows furrow.

“I mean,” I clarify. “I want my throne back. But I also want to end the sacrifices.”

“Sure, you do.” Tarsus lifts a glass of juice to their lips and chugs, then slams the glass back on the table. “You want to end the sacrifices until you get your throne. And then it’ll be back to the old ways.”

I lean forward. “I’ve been a human for over two decades. I can sympathize with them.”

“Right.”

“Aden,” I say, directing my gaze to someone who might listen. “You spent time with me. Knock some sense into this prick’s mind.”

Aden meets my gaze with his solid green ones. “You showed me your true colors after we fucked.”

I flinch. Gods. My hand was around his mouth as I pinned him down. I wouldn’t trust me, either.

Heaving out a frustrated sigh, I drag my hands down the length of my face. Nothing is going to get through to them. They won’t tell me why I’m here or what they intend to do with me.

I need to find the throne room. Maybe just sitting my ass down on the—what did Abaddon call it? Throne of Bones?—will restore my powers, and I can control my empire again, in whatever way fae kings control their empires.

The exit is behind me. Down that hall was a branch to a larger hall, which could lead to the throne room. Guards are fucking everywhere and fae are no doubt much faster than humans. This is an impossible task. But for all I know, Tarsus might kill me tonight.

I glance at Aden, who gives me an odd look in return, then look at Tarsus, who’s finishing off their coffee. Ulna stands behind my chair, at the ready. My heart begins pounding, but I make a break for it.

I leap out of my chair and dart for the door. I can hear her footsteps behind me, but I won the cross-country state championship, goddammit, and I’ll not be outrun.

I race down the hall, dodging guards’ hands as they reach for me, then dart down a larger hall. One of these has to lead me to the throne room. Somehow I feel like I’m going the right way, as if some innate instinct is telling me which ways to turn. Down a massive ballroom stairway, down another hall, and finally, I’m staring at the Throne of Bones.

The throne is more majestic than I could have ever imagined, forged of bones that look very…human, and topped with antlers that are three times my height. And mounted above the throne—just like in my vision—is a wyvern skull.

This place seems so familiar, heeding some ancient memory that I can’t quite place, and it slows my pace as I stare in awe. But shouts sound behind me—far too close for comfort—and my feet remember to run. I dart up the steps to the platform and plant my ass on the throne.

My breath freezes in my lungs and I squeeze my eyes shut while I wait—wait for my ancient power and memories to return, wait for my body to be transformed into a fae body, wait forsomethingto happen that’s similar to all those books I read.

But it all must be too good to be true, because when I open my eyes…nothing has changed. I’m still the gangly human with bubblegum-pink hair who needs fucking glasses to see anything past ten feet.

The guards have stopped at the foot of the throne, gaping up at me, as if I’m untouchable up here. As if they realize that maybe I’m their sovereign after all, with or without my powers. Tarsus and Aden stumble in, both stopping short at the sight of me on my throne. I perch on the edge and place my hands on the carved bone armrests. But still, nothing happens. No memories, no magic, no immortal body.

My eyes meet Aden’s. I don’t know why his are the ones I seek out. As if, even though I lost his trust, he’s the only oneIstill trust. Tears blur my vision and I slowly shake my head. Something deep in my chest cracks.

“Nothing happened,” I whisper, then look at Tarsus. Why the fuck am I here if I’m nothing more than a sitting duck. “I’m still mortal…and I still don’t remember a fucking thing.”

---