Aden

I'm barely breathing as I watch Clavicle mount the steps to the balcony that runs the perimeter of the banquet hall. We don't usually use it for sick games like this, but, well, we don't often run into some evil king who seeks to destroy us, either.

The point in this exercise is not to kill Clav, but to scare the shit out of him. To show him who holds the power here. Once he realizes his life is at our mercy, he'll agree to meet with Mother Terra the way Sovereign Wolfsbane did. But unlike Wolfsbane, hopefully Mother Terra will grant Clav's request. Spine Fae have a closer tie with the dark side of Mother Terra, According to Tarsus, and the hope is that Clav could talk some sense into the Great Mother of this realm, convincing her to stop her hunger for human blood. Convincing her to spare me.

It's not like she needs human blood, after all. It's just that she's a petty goddess who demands fae loyalty above everything else. Since both Tarsus and Wolfsbane have grown close to me, then I'm the one Mother Terra wants. She desires proof that they would choose her over their lovers and family.

It's because Clavicle is here now that I'm still alive. I desperately need him to be afraid of us enough to decide to work for us.

Clav reaches the top of the marble stairwell and looks back at us again, though it's clear he can't quite focus on either of our faces. It was my idea to take his glasses away. I'd told Tarsus that if he's really lying, he won't even notice his glasses gone when he awoke in our presence. While it's clear he can't see well without his glasses, though, it doesn't really mean anything. He is stuck in a human body, after all, with human weaknesses. That doesn't mean the ruthless Clavicle isn't in there, plotting away.

"Ready?" Tarsus snaps beside me, making even me flinch. I'm used to Tarsus' quiet demeanor, their gentleness, but having their lover-turned-enemy around must really put them in a bad mood because they've been damn-near insufferable since they first set eyes on Clav. "Set," Tarsus says, and my back tenses as I stand, fiddle in hand, and position it on my shoulder. "Go!"

Clavicle breaks into a run. He's tall and slender and fast, I have to give him that. But he's not fast enough to outrun Weaver. And as much as the human part of me feels for Clavicle's mortality in this cruel fae world, I remind myself what he's capable of, what a threat he is to me and my people. He did, after all, lead the bat colony into battle. What human without his memories would march into battle with bat-folk? Not to mention the way he pinned me down the night we fucked. It's clear he remembers everything and is simply a great actor. Me? Gullible as fuck.

With my fiddle in hand, I stand and drag my bow across the taut strings. As I play, I remind myself of his fury when he pinned me to the bed, a murderous look in his eyes. I don't even want to think about what he would have done to me if Tarsus hadn't come to my rescue.

But now I'm the one with the power here. Tarsus gave me the choice of how to punish Clav, and gave me the power to stop it if I changed my mind. Clavicle is nothing more than a selfish, manipulative liar. And while we won't let him die tonight, I sure as hell want to see him suffer.

As I drag the bow across the fiddle strings, I can feel a bit of that Shadow magic that seeped into the fiddle from Wolfsbane when they found their own Shadow magic. We were invincible together on the battlefield against the Solar Fae. The Shadow magic never did leave me when I said goodbye to Wolf. Instead, much to Tarsus' dismay, it caressed my mortal soul in its black tendrils, promising power.

As the black smoke curls around the strings now, Tarsus opens their mouth and begins to sing the fae bard they wrote for this very moment.

The traitorous blade from your ax

Nearly knocked us on our ass

You threw us into anarchy

Your vicious laugh—insanity

You tried to hurl us into hell

And you just about won as well

But now we're dumping you in your grave

And no one's ‘round to hear you rave

You better say your final prayer

The vampires and feral bears

Are salivating for your blood

Before we bury you in the mud!

The blaggards are all out of breath

While we watch your race to the death

Down to the realm where you beloooong

And thus we end your tragic song!

Tarsus gives a loud whistle and I don't have to look back to know that was the signal to release Weaver. My bow drags across the fiddle strings like a match across sandpaper, matching the quick, loud timbre of drums and tambourines. The music and drunken laughter fills the air, nearly drowning out the sound of my pounding heart as I watch Clavicle race around the balcony, Weaver quickly catching up. Clavicle's bare feet slam into the marble floor to the rhythm, and I swear, I can hear Tarsus' vicious, unbridled laughter through the noise.

Tarsus has officially gone rabid. And I'm not sure who I fear more: the Prince of Ruin, or my lover who sits beside me, slowly losing their mind to madness over the man who stabbed them in the back.

As Tarsus sings, I step onto the table, firing my bow across the fiddle as the black smoke of the Shadow Magic weaves ribbons between my fingers. I remind myself of the coldness in Clav's eyes as he pinned me to the bed, of that fury that swiftly took over his body. I remind myself of every horrible things he's done that Tarsus told me about. The human sacrifices, murdering his own father in cold blood, and betraying my beloved Tarsus. And I let all these thoughts burn in my mind while my hatred for the bastard prince fuels my music.

Clav

I've barely made it halfway around the room when I glance back to find the massive hairy tarantula closing the gap between us. My heart rate spikes and I pick up my speed. Tarsus and the drunken guests below continue singing the bard to the impossibly fast tune of 's fiddle, their loud music nearly drowning out the thrum of my heartbeat against my eardrums.

By the time I've made one lap around the perimeter of the large banquet hall, my lungs burn and my knees feel like they might give out beneath me. But I imagine Weaver's long, curved fangs sinking into my throat—and that keeps me at a quick pace for another lap.

Something soft brushes my ankle, and I leap forward, glancing back to see the spider at my heels. Holy fuck! Can't tarantulas, like, jump on their prey? I'm fairly certain at this point Weaver is just playing with her food.

The roar of laughter can be heard through the loud, upbeat music when she swipes at the back of my knees with her pedipalp again, making me jump forward, chills spreading over my body. I'm going to collapse at any moment, giving the arachnid her breakfast. The jump below will probably sprain an ankle or twist my leg, but my chances of survival are ten times greater than being sucked dry up by this monster.

Just before my knees give out, I grab the banister and hoist myself over, Weaver snapping from behind. For a very brief and glorious moment, there's nothing. Just wicked music of 's fiddle, Tarsus' unbridled laughter, and the air beneath me.

All too soon, though, I land with a hard thud on the ground before slipping and landing on my back. Darkness invades my vision as the air is pushed out of my lungs from the collision onto the floor.

The world fades away as darkness invades my mind.

Then new visions fill my mind.

I'm standing in a large hall with a black marble floor and pillars made of bleached bones. Sunlight slants through large, arched glass windows. Beasts and faeries of every shape and size are gathered. Standing by a throne built from bleached bones with a massive wyvern skull mounted above it, is Tarsus. Their white hair falls over their violet robes, nearly glowing in the sunlight that streams through the long glass windows behind them. Several gold rings hang from their pointed lobes, and chains decorate their antlers. The silver threads trimming their robes match the silver dust upon their lids, the silver balm apron their lips. With the sunlight hitting them just right, they look anointed.

Tarsus is gesturing for me to take the throne. "You deserve it," they say, and a warm, kind smile I have never seen since I met them breaks across their features. "No more hiding. We can finally be free, Sovereign Clavicle."

Air fills my lungs as the vision disappears. I open my eyes to find myself lying on my back on the floor, silence filling the room. People—Fae—creatures—whatever the fuck they all are—circle above me, their eyes shining with merriment, mouths spread in wide grins. A humanoid with a boar's head says something to the exceptionally tall and thin, skeletal creature with arms that hang to the floor, and the creature laughs in a hissing voice. Behind them, is standing on the table looking at me over their heads with—concern? Hatred?—burning in his eyes.

Tarsus appears through the crowd, a gold chalice in hand. They look too tall, their antlers exceptionally large from my view here on the floor. And this close, I can see the make-up expertly painted on their face. Shimmering everglade green eyeshadow merges into mermaid blue, and black liner shapes their almond eyes. Several small hoop earrings glint from their pointed ears. A bone necklace hangs over the fabric of their dark purple robes trimmed with silver threads—like the one in my vision. Their grin, however, is cold and calculated, nothing like the warm smile in my vision.

"You are truly something, Clavicle." They reach out a hand to help me to my feet, but I can't move. My legs are rubber, I'm still catching my breath, and my throat is dry. When I don't accept their hand, they grab the front of my shirt and yank me to my feet with impossible ease. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone outrun Weaver."

"Cross...Country...bitch." I say between breaths.

They hum. "Well, at least you didn't chop off her other leg. She might not have let you live. Come on, then." They roughly guide me through the crowd. "This means another day of fun with you."

"Fan-fucking-tastic," I manage to wheeze.

They lead me down a stone stairway, Ulna beside me to keep me from running, and I stumble along, still dazed from that fall. I could have a concussion, but it's not like anyone here would care. I can tell by the cooling air that we're going deeper into the belly of the planet, to an earthen prison, no doubt. I glance behind me, hoping to find , but he apparently doesn't care enough about me to accompany me to my prison cell.

"You may be living in a mortal body," Tarsus remarks, "but your willpower is just as strong as it was before you were cursed."

Cursed. I glare at the back of their head as they lead, taken aback by how long their bone-white hair is, the way it flows in silky strands straight to their waist. We arrive to an earthen chamber where faelight orbs hang from the dirt walls and chains are drilled into the stone floor.

"It wasn't enough that you nearly killed me with your tarantula? Now you have to imprison me, too?"

"As long as you're alive and within my palace walls," Tarsus mutters darkly, "you will always be my prisoner."

My mouth is dry. I feel like I could guzzle down a whole gallon of water. I haven't had a drink since before the battle this morning, and if I don't choke from the dryness in my throat first, then I'm sure to pass out from dehydration.

Ulna shackles me to the floor. The cool metal bites into my skin. Hunching before me, with their violet robes gathering around their feet, Tarsus places a copper ring around my neck, their cool fingers grazing my skin and making me flinch.

"This is all too familiar," they mutter grimly as they study me. This is the closest I've been to them since that day at the faire. They smell like wood smoke and pine. They're not smiling, but their silver eyes almost seem to be shining as they stare at me. Almost imperceptibly, they lean forward until their nose is mere inches from my own. "Once, you placed me in chains for trying to stop you from carrying out the human sacrifices. Now I have you in chains until you agree to end the sacrifices once and for all."

I blink, confusion clouding my mind.

"Y-you want me to end the sacrifices?" This is one piece of information Abaddon left out. "I want to end the human sacrifices!" I shout as they stand and turn toward the door.

"You'd say anything to get out of those chains."

"No—really! No force necessary!" A manic laugh escapes me, because—what? Tarsus wants the same thing as me? God, if only we'd communicated all this sooner, the whole battle could have been avoided!

"Tarsus!" I shout to their retreating form. "Stop! Let's talk!"

But their chuckle echoes through the hall as they shut the metal door behind them.