Throne of the Fallen

THE PRINCE OF Envy watched Camilla slowly place her hand in the crook of Vexley’s arm.

The very arm Envy had just fantasized about bodily removing. The splatter of blood would look rather arresting against the pale wallpaper, but he tamped his more violent instincts down.

Vexley was walking Camilla around like a prize. One he’d stolen, not won.

Envy was firmly of the thinking in the Seven Circles: when it came to the game of courtship, each person should want to play.

Vexley hadn’t given Camilla a choice—and from what Envy knew of the mortal customs, if she denied him, it would cause a scene.

And Miss Antonius didn’t appear to want to draw anyone’s eye for long tonight, for some reason. Though the deep hunter green of her silk gown matched Envy’s cravat and that kept holding his attention. Amid the sea of pastel-colored dresses skirting his peripheral vision, Camilla was a bold splash of darkness, intense and rich.

Despite his best effort not to notice, Camilla was beautiful.

Her silver hair had been curled delicately and clipped back from her face, showing off her pointed chin, her slender neck, and the simple yet stunning silver locket she wore that matched her eyes.

There was an elegance in the way she carried herself—her body made of the sort of delicate angles and swooping curves that begged to be captured on canvas. The way she moved now indicated that she wished to be as far from their host as possible.

Player or not—Envy still hadn’t decided—Vexley was making himself a complication in more ways than one. And Envy had no time to waste on fools.

Every day, his court weakened, a fault that was his alone.

Which was why he’d decided to go the more trusted route for this second attempt and seduce Camilla. It was purely a practical decision: it had nothing to do with how the candlelight was reflecting off her silver curls up ahead.

Envy offered his arm to the nearest woman—a vibrant redhead he briefly recalled had arrived with Camilla—and followed the procession down the corridor to the dining room.

“You’re the mysterious Lord Synton, I presume?” the redhead immediately asked.

“Is that what people are saying about me, Lady…?”

“Lady Katherine Edwards.”

He felt her gaze on him but kept his own locked on the procession of lords and ladies parading slowly toward the dining room. Envy fantasized about jabbing magical pokers at their asses to prod them along. Dinner hadn’t even started, and he was ready to leave.

“You’ve certainly made an impression,” she continued.

Envy glanced sidelong at Lady Edwards. “I do have that effect.”

She laughed, full and deep, drawing the attention of a dark-haired woman in front of them. The woman glanced back, surprising Envy with the open lust shining in her eyes.

Her focus shifted to Lady Edwards, and the dark-haired woman’s jealousy flared. He flashed a smile meant to intimidate and she averted her gaze.

“I see what my friend meant. You are trouble.”

His attention went to Camilla’s silver head at the front of the line. Lady Edwards was baiting him. And having entirely too much fun doing it.

But perhaps befriending her would put Camilla at ease. He allowed himself to don the mask of a charming but aloof noble.

“Tonight, I’d say I’m only slightly wicked, Lady Edwards.”

Envy was rather put off when he realized it was the truth.

He’d kept his flirting to a minimum, had only asked pointed questions that could help him with the game. And once Camilla had stepped into the room, he’d given her all his attention. Not wanting to appear too forward, he’d admired the most intriguing painting in the room, giving her five minutes before seeking her out. A perfect fucking gentleman, he thought with annoyance.

And yet she’d been completely, infuriatingly, unimpressed that he’d swooped in to catch her cup and save her from ruining her gown. No matter that he’d been the one to cause her unsteadiness in the first place. Prince Gluttony had claimed that that move always worked to woo a mortal. According to his brother, mortal women loved a dark hero. As if heroics were determined by an unsullied cup of punch.

But, as usual, Envy was discovering that Gluttony was a moron when it came to courtship. Camilla’s tongue had been as silver as her hair, lashing him with her quick dismissal.

If he was going to try seduction as his second attempt at securing her help, he’d have to tease out what aroused her. Surely she had some fantasy he could toy with.

The parade finally entered the dining chamber, and Envy schooled his features to hide his distaste.

The long cloth-covered table had been dressed in candelabras and an ungodly number of crystal vases. Wisteria—that must have come from a hot house and cost a small fortune—was the flower of choice, and he knew from the way Camilla’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment that the detail hadn’t been lost on her, either, and it didn’t please her.

Intriguing.

“Where is your family from, Lord Synton?” Lady Edwards asked, her voice cordial as she brought Envy’s attention to her. “Is Synton a western surname?”

“Southern,” he said evasively.

She gave him a once-over as she unfolded her napkin in her lap. He had the distinct impression that she was mentally flaying him, in search of his deepest secrets.

“I saw you speaking with my friend earlier. How do you know Miss Antonius?”

“I’m an art collector and her gallery came highly recommended.”

“Mm.”

Lady Katherine sipped her water.

Envy didn’t need to use his supernatural ability to sense emotions to know she was skeptical of him.

“Many gentlemen find themselves very intrigued by her… art.”

His sin ignited before he smothered the sensation.

Lady Katherine turned those shrewd eyes on Camilla and Vexley, who were now seated directly across from them. A man named Harrington took his seat on Camilla’s other side, causing her to stiffen ever so slightly. Envy made a mental note to look into him, too.

“She’s quite talented, and much more modest than her father.”

Envy tore his gaze away from the artist in question. “Her father also painted?”

Of course, he knew Pierre had painted, but acting as if he didn’t would garner much more information.

“Pierre Antonius became famous for The Seduction of Evelyn Gray, among many others. Surely you’ve heard of it, even in the southern region? It’s his most famous portrait. The woman who posed was nude, except for a veil, hiding her identity. Of course, she also had great, raven-like wings. Pierre’s work often depicted the fantastical, especially what he called halflings.”

“Humans who have unique parentage,” Envy supplied.

“You could say that.” Lady Katherine smiled demurely. “Women with wings, men with horns or devilish tails. Others certainly seemed to share his obsession. Through his art, society could indulge in their own fantasies, display pieces that would otherwise be considered unholy.”

Envy listened to Lady Katherine’s unsolicited but much-appreciated art history lesson as the wine was poured. His spies hadn’t found much on the man, aside from the fact that Pierre had opened the gallery two decades prior, and died two years back, leaving Camilla alone in the world. She had no maternal or paternal grandparents that he’d found, no aunts or uncles or cousins.

Strange, he thought, given how humans bred like rabbits.

“What of his family?” Envy asked, sipping his wine.

“Pierre? He had a tragic origin. His mother and father were killed in a carriage accident when he was a boy, and he’d been brought up by a family friend. Both of his parents had been only children and their parents had also met violent ends.”

“Some might say their family is cursed.”

Lady Katherine gave him a sharp look.

“Some have said that, and they are quite obviously fools.”

He smiled faintly. She’d very delicately suggested he might be one too.

“What of her mother’s family?”

Lady Katherine’s expression shuttered. “That’s a sensitive subject I’d rather avoid.”

Envy smiled pleasantly, though inside he churned with curiosity. “No need to sharpen your claws, Lady Edwards. I meant no harm. What else intrigues Waverly Green’s finest?”

Lady Katherine went on to tell him about Pierre’s fondness for riddles and mysteries. If he hadn’t been dead, Envy would have thought he was a player in the game too. But it was clear that this fondness was shared by many in Waverly Green. How dull the games of humans, he thought while nodding along.

The butler appeared again, solemnly chiming a bell to announce that dinner was to be served. It was presented a la française, so guests began serving themselves from the wide array of entrées and side dishes a barrage of servants had placed along the table.

Platters of roasted beef tenderloin with a rosemary jus; whipped potatoes topped with chives and dotted with pads of melting butter; glazed carrots; stuffed whole fish with dull eyes; steamed asparagus; oversized prawns with their tails still attached; and tenderized chicken breasts with a rich lemon cream sauce made their way around the table.

Envy could have done without the accusing stare of the fish, or the manual labor involved in cleaning the prawns, but kept his thoughts from his face. The food was otherwise decent and the company of Lady Edwards surprisingly tolerable.

Once they’d all sampled the first round, the second was brought out. Dishes inspired by the southern region of a nearby realm took center stage.

A salad made of oranges, diced onion, and pine nuts tossed with a tangy dressing made of salt, pepper, oregano, and oil and vinegar.

A second fish course came out, bringing a genuine smile to his face. It reminded him of his sister-in-law’s family restaurant and a dish served there. But in no other way did this feast compare to the luxury of dinner parties back home. Though he didn’t like to admit it, Envy’s brother Gluttony had recently impressed him, fashioning candles from bacon lard that, once they’d been lit and melted, created a rich, decadent sauce for the shaved Brussels sprouts.

Of course, his brother was highly motivated to have the best, most talked-about parties—he was locked in a feud with a reporter whose dismissals of him proved quite inspiring.

On and on the dishes came, and so did the wine. Blessedly.

He downed one glass and called for another, earning no admonishments. In fact, several other guests did the same.

Apparently, Waverly Green’s high society grew bored with their pompous, holier-than-thou ways too. Given the fact that Vexley was supposed to be a scoundrel, this dinner party was boring as sin. Envy’s masquerade next week would certainly stir things up nicely.

Across the table, the dark-haired woman from earlier, a widow named Janelle, kept trying to catch his eye. She pressed her breasts against the table as she leaned over, fully aware that the position combined with her low-cut bodice offered a tantalizing view.

Envy kept his attention on her face, where her lips were pouting ever so slightly.

“Fine wine, my lady, am I right?”

Her focus slid to his hand. He’d been absently stroking the stem of his wineglass, thinking of how to engage Camilla in conversation and draw her away from Vexley.

“Do you sculpt, Lord Synton?” she asked.

“Why do you ask, Lady Janelle?”

A pleasant flush rose in her cheeks.

“You have the hands of an artist, my lord. I can’t help but picture them molding objects to perfection. If you ever need a model, I’d be happy to pose.”

A flicker of annoyance surprised him, beckoning from Camilla’s side. But when he stole a glance at her, she wasn’t looking at him at all. Instead, she was fixated on Vexley, who was leaning toward her, eyes glassy from the fifth glass of wine he’d finished.

“Lord Synton?” Lady Janelle ventured, her breasts near to spilling out as she leaned farther forward.

Envy was saved from having to respond when the man to her left finally pulled his head out of his rear end to take an interest in the woman. And her generous cleavage.

Luckily, Janelle seemed very pleased by this turn of events as if that had been her goal all along. Games within games.

Vexley’s dinner party had quickly departed from the polite as harder spirits began to circulate alongside the wine, ensuring that the guests—both the ladies and the gentlemen—were getting as intoxicated as they desired.

“Sweet manna from heaven,” Envy whispered, swiping a whiskey cocktail from a tray, for the first time in his life regretting that his demon blood kept him from getting as soused on mortal liquor as all the rest.

Hours later, after the last dessert was brought out and cleared away, the host snatched a chalice from the table and lifted it high, spilling half its contents down his coat sleeve and splattering the remaining red liquor onto the table linen, as if re-creating a murder scene.

Envy kept his face impassive, though annoyance raged within. He despised messy displays. It showed a lack of control.

Surely this inebriated fool couldn’t be his competition.

“Ladies, please see yourselves to the drawing room while the gentlemen smoke our cigars. We shall all take a few moments to gather ourselves before I show off my newest treasure. Afterward, how about we all play some… games? If you dare.”

Without looking in her direction, Envy tapped into Camilla’s emotions, noticing a drastic spike in her nerves. All the while Vexley spoke, her discomfort wound around Envy’s insides, as if her growing anxiety were his own.

Miss Camilla Antonius was either up to something nefarious or was nervous about what Vexley had in store for everyone. Or perhaps she was excited by the prospect of his games.

Envy recalled what Goodfellow had said. He fought the urge to look at her.

It was entirely possible that Envy had read Camilla’s emotions wrong earlier—perhaps she’d only been upset with Vexley for his public display and not his unwelcome touch.

Anticipation and nervousness were nearly identical at their core, so it was impossible to discern which emotion the artist was currently experiencing. It was rare that his supernatural senses couldn’t aid him, and Envy didn’t care much for this uncertainty.

But perhaps it was another opportunity. If he could determine what Camilla was up to tonight, then he could devise a way to make himself indispensable to her, thus ensuring that she’d help him in return. No seduction required.

“All right, then,” Vexley said finally. “Let’s be on our way.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Envy watched Camilla bolt for the door. Without drawing attention to himself, Envy quickly stood, but just as he pushed back his chair, he was stopped by Lady Katherine.

“Do be a dear and escort me to the drawing room, my lord,” she said, blocking his path.

He glanced from the meddlesome woman to the door, debating whether using his magic now would in any way count against him. It was small as far as risks went, but Envy couldn’t chance breaking any rules of conduct.

“It will be but a moment,” she added.

A moment was all Camilla had needed to slip away, a fact that her friend either seemed to know or had surmised just as he had.

Outmaneuvered by propriety, of all cursed things, Envy pasted on a pleasant smile and offered his arm.

“Of course, Lady Katherine. Lead the way.”