Page 72 of Prince of Ruin

His eyes meet mine in surprise, before understanding dawns on him. “That’s right. Only humans are creative enough to make up stories.”

“There are plenty of history books you can find written by fae down that corridor,” Tarsus mutters. “We’re notalluseless.”

I shove Tarsus lightly. “I never said you were useless. But your kind is immortal, flawless, and bears powers no human could ever imagine to wield. Give us something to be proud of for once.”

For the first time today, Tarsus’ mouth curves up in a half-smile as they behold me, their silver eyes softening while they look down at me. “You have more to offer than your creativity, Aden. You have…everything. The whole package.” Leaning down, they cover my lips with theirs. I wrap my arms around their neck while their arms slide around my waist, pulling me closer.

“Aw,” Clav says. “Didn’t know Tarsus had a soft bone in their body.”

They still. Their lips on mine, Tarsus glares at Clav. My mouth breaks into a smile as I pull away from the kiss, watching Clav saunter away with their victory.

“I’m going to kill him,” Tarsus mutters as they stare after him. But, for once, the words aren’t laced with enough hatred to make me believe them.

It’s high noon as we walk along the Red River that carves through the city like a snake. Though the volcano smoke continues to churn above, ash hasn’t fallen from the sky in nearly a week, and most of it has been swept up. Restaurants have placed their outdoor seating back on the sidewalks by the river.

We sit at a table on the outdoor patio of one of my favorite restaurants. It’s owned by a family of humans who started their business shortly after Tarsus freed them. The two men were cooks in the royal palace before they were free, where they fell in love. Now they’re older, near their fifties—still strikingly handsome—and have three goblin children who they adopted, all three of whom run around causing adorable chaos. The human couple offers us free service every time we visit, but Tarsus makes sure to leave a large tip that would cover twice as much as what the meal would have cost us.

“Would you like the usual?” Marcus asks, brushing back a few graying strands of his hair before pulling the pen from behind his ear.He has a full gray beard covering his strong jaw.

“The usual for me,” I respond, then look at Clav, glad that no one recognizes him in his human form. Marcus and his husband, Brian, would be running for the hills if they knew the cruel sovereign who sacrificed half the humans in the palace was in their midst.

“What do you want?” I ask Clav. “They have your usual Ren Faire foods. Fries, turkey legs, pork chops…”

“A turkey leg sounds great.”

Marcus’ pen stills on the pad as he stares at Clav, as though recognizing him, but he closes his eyes momentarily and shakes his head, as if telling himself Clav isn’t the same person as that heartless king who ruled in the palace where he used to work. How could he be? As far as everyone knows, Clavicle fled decades ago.

Tarsus orders bovine bone broth with extra bones, and Marcus leaves to fill the order. Tarsus watches Clav closely, their eyes narrowed.

“Why did you order the turkey leg?” they finally ask. “You know Marcus makes the best gods-damned coagulated pork’s blood. His specialty was the only reason you didn’t include him and his partner in the mass genocide.”

Clav’s face goes pale, whether from the mention of the pork’s blood or the genocide, I’m not sure.

I pinch Tarsus’ leg, and they wince. “Today is supposed to be fun, remember?”

“I knew Marcus?” Clav asks. “He would have been, what, in his mid-twenties?”

“He was one of the few humans you knew by name,” Tarsus says. “But you were far from pals. It’dbe hard to forget the eyes of the person who sacrificed your parents at the volcano.”

Tarsus’ words hit me like a punch in the gut. They’d never told me Marcus’ parents were among those sacrificed to the volcano by Clavicle. I guess this restaurant was a bad choice, after all, but how was I supposed to know Marcus’ parents were killed by Clavicle? All I wanted was a restaurant that had food similar to what we have in the human realms.

“I’m sure if you asked him,” Tarsus says coldly, “he would confess to you still haunting his nightmares.”

“I saw it in his eyes.” Clav’s gaze falls. “The way he looked at me…” He shakes his head. “Is that how everyone would look at me if they knew who I was?” When Clav’s eyes meet mine, there’s a sheen of tears in his eyes that he’s clearly trying to fight.

“Only the humans,” Tarsus responds coldly.

The rest of the meal is spent in tense silence. I immediately regret coming here. Showing the city to Clav at all. Seems like everything has a black mark on it, left by Sovereign Clavicle all those years ago. There’s no escaping the haunting spirit of a king who slaughtered one-hundred humans during his first month as king.

“I’ll do it.”

Both Tarsus and I stop eating, both of our gazes snapping to Clav, who has barely touched his turkeyleg. He tears his eyes from the blood-red river and looks between us.

“For all the pain I’ve caused you, the pain that still haunts the humans in this city…I’ll willingly speak to Mother Terra, and hope she listens to me in my mortal form.”

Tarsus’ eating utensil clashes onto their plate, and they look at me. I shrug.

“If you’re serious,” Tarsus says carefully. “Then we’ll leave at dawn to meet with the Cadre. Wolfsbane is the only one, apart from Abaddon, who knows the way to MotherTerra’s lair.”

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