Page 91 of Prince of Ruin

“Perhaps so.” She nods. “But you are still separated. You speak for this body, while he remains locked away, which was his fear all along.”

I flinch.

She picks up her stick and pokes at the fire, allowing embers to pop as they climb toward the cavern ceiling.

“I have never seen a willing sacrifice.” Her rotted teeth click together. “Aden was the closest thing I had to witnessing selflessness to give up one’s life for the good of others, but even he had to be forced, after…” She meets my eyes. “Well, never mind.”

Intrigue tugs at my attention, but I shove it down. She’s trying to distract me.

“It must be a human thing,” I snap. “That sacrificial love.”

“Perhaps.” She nods her agreement. “Fae possess a certain bravery that allows them to march into battle and drag the edge of their blades along the throats of their enemies. They have the courage to face death head-on—with the promise of glory on the other end. But the courage tosurrenderone’s life without a fight for the good of others?” She clucks her tongue in wonder when she meets my gaze. “That’s a rare thing indeed. Courage of that nature…it must be human. Perhaps mortals aren’t the useless cowardly animals I’ve painted them out to be.”

She lifts the stick and begins drawing invisible designs in the air. I remember meeting with her often. Mother Terra and the Spine Sovereigns have always had a strong connection, and spirit journeying to her presence was a common occurrence. I know that when she drags the stick through the air with the smoke curling toward the ceiling, she is either binding or unbinding a spell, a curse, or an oath.

“I demanded Aden’s sacrifice,” she says, her voice an ancient song. “And threatened to destroy the continent if I didn’t taste his blood by the full moon. I wrote my oath in smoke and fire the night Wolfsbane came to plead for my help on the battlefield.” My stomach tightens as she continues drawing invisible designs in the air. “But tonight, I’m destroying that oath.” She sets the stick down and peers at me with those sunset orange eyes, which aren’t pits anymore, but more like normal amber eyes, glowing from within. Her teeth are healthy and white when she peels back her full lips to smile at me. She’s young, so young. And beautiful. Her black raven hair falling down her back in ribbons of silk, and her brown skin golden in the firelight.

“You have proven to me that a true leader offers more than loyalty for their people and their goddess. They also offer sacrifice.Selfsacrifice. And I accept your sacrifice, Clavicle, Sovereign of the Spine Empire, with a foot in both the human and the fae realms.”

Hope wells in my chest.

Is she for real?Clav asks in the back of my mind. I don’t have the heart to tell him this might all be a trick. It was too easy. Far too easy. I’m supposed to be dead.

Pulling another stick from the fire, she begins drawing those ancient designs in the air again, and mystomach sinks. Here it is. She broke one curse, only to create another.

“I also helped with you banishment,” she says, her voice young, now. “You sold your soul to your Shadow when you become sovereign. And there’s nothing I loathe more than a common fae taking the powers of a god. It’s for that reason I helped Tarsus banish you and turn you human.”

My throat convulses in a swallow while I wait. Wait for whatever proverbial shoe she’s about to drop as she draws those lazy designs in the air, writing or unwriting some curse. She lowers the stick and meets my gaze.

“You’re still my favorite, Sovereign Clavicle. I will return you to your fae body, but if you sell your soul to your Shadow again, know that I will hunt you down and claim your sacrifice. Your life will be mine.”

Surprise ripples through my veins as magic whirls around me, the heady scent of dirt after a rain filling my senses. It consumes me, the magic, threading through my veins, my mind, crackling through every nerve and cell in my body.

I black out momentarily, only to wake up in the dried up field outside my palace walls. In the spot where I am laying, fat, green clovers have bloomed all around me.

Thunder rolls overhead, and large drops of rain splatter onto the cracked dirt, softening the groundbeneath my bare feet and hands. Standing, I look up into the clouds, which are not volcano smoke any longer, but dark thunder clouds. The rain pours and pours and pours, and I dance in the drops, arms raised like a madman.

When I throw my head back, the weight on my neck feels extra heavy. Reaching up, I find antlers poking through my skull. They’re large and thick and smooth, both foreign feeling and familiar at the same time. And my hands…I hold them both in front of me, all fingers spread. All. Ten. Fingers. I look down at my body, now wrapped in a black garb fringed with gold threads. A garb of a royal. I’m taller now, and I feel impossibly strong and…immortal.

I remember now, how I let this power control me. How easily it went to my head. Because I feel the temptation, even now, to test the limits of my powers, so see how much stronger I am than the other sovereigns, to see if I could rule it all. Because I’m a fae prince again. No, I’m aking.

But…I’m not only Sovereign Clavicle. I’m also Clav. I’m both the Prince of Ruin and the human at once. I possess both memories of my fae past, and memories of my human past. They weave together within my mind like the most grotesque and the most lovely fabric, creating a tapestry of loss and love, pain and joy. And while I have two-hundred years of my fae past to influence my decisions and my future, the twenty-three years of my human past have been enough to ease that fury and trauma.

My power screams at me to rule, to exert dominance. But my inner human eases that need, instead focusing on empathy for others. Stretching my arms toward the sky, I give thanks to Mother Terra. Like me, she was cruel, demanding human blood. But like me, she, too, can change.

I just hope Aden and Tarsus could forgive us both.

The rain clouds peel away, allowing sunlight to sugarcoat the landscape. The sun rays pull clovers up from across the meadow until I’m knee deep in the clovers. Leaves gleam from the trees at the edge of the field, and bright, colorful flowers bloom from the bushes girding the Skull Palace.

Like the days of old, green covers every inch of the land.

The warmth of the sun kisses my pale skin as I make my way through the field toward the looming bone palace ahead, the wind tugging playfully at my black robes. The pale towers of my palace, that once provoked fear and dread in the pit of my stomach, both as a young fae prince and as a human, now offer hope.

I’m not powerless against my father anymore. I’ll not be abused or tossed into a dungeon by Tarsus. This power coursing through my veins would normallyscare me, but the other half of me, the one that used to be fae, is in full control of this magic.

We are one, now. Darkness and light, powerful and meek, fae king and human. I reach up to shove my glasses up my nose, only to find nothing there. I laugh. I don’t need them now, in this perfect fae body. That’s going to take some getting used to.

When I step into the city, people turn to stare. The fae and folk fall to their knees, but the humans…the humans flee for the shadows. They didn't know who I was in my human form, and thank the gods for that. When I was human, these same humans smiled at me warmly. They weren’t frightened of Tarsus as they are scared of me now. They admired them, yes. Respected them. But panic wasn’t written all over their faces as it is now, on fae, folk, and human alike. My heart twists violently at the sight of their terror of me.

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