Throne of the Fallen

ENVY HELPED CAMILLA onto the metal roof, more concerned by the way she squeezed her eyes shut and teetered across the steep incline than by the loud banging still coming from the door inside.

He’d have them down in the garden and off to his waiting carriage before Vexley could find them, but only if Camilla didn’t have a stroke first.

“Open your eyes,” he demanded quietly.

Having her break her neck would be inconvenient, to say the least. He had no idea what her death might mean for the game, but it certainly wouldn’t be good.

Camilla shook her head, her face pale in the moonlight.

For the first time since their tumble, Envy tuned in to her emotions, feeling the iciness of her fear travel down his own spine. If he’d been mortal, he’d have shuddered from the coldness of it.

Camilla wasn’t simply afraid, she was petrified.

“Is it the height or the fear of being caught?”

“Both,” she gritted out, keeping her eyes shut tight.

His magic detected a lie, but he couldn’t dwell on it.

Her teeth chattered loudly, and soon her whole body would start shaking. Her slippered foot slid across the roof.

Envy didn’t wish to reveal any hint that he was more than human, but Camilla needed to be on solid ground before she did something reckless, like faint.

He slipped one arm under her legs, then banded the other around her middle, tucking her small frame tight against him.

Surprisingly, she curled into his body without resistance, shivering like someone who’d been pulled from frigid waters. Her reaction was extreme, even for human fear, but he had no time to puzzle it out now.

“Relax,” he commanded. “This will be over in a second.”

“What do you—”

“Quiet.”

She squirmed and he stepped off the roof, landing effortlessly with a quiet thunk in the dewy grass before she could cry out.

Instead of being relieved, Camilla latched onto him harder, practically crawling up his body as she pressed her face into his chest, her breathing quick and uneven.

He swept a hand over her forehead. Sweat beaded across her brow and the back of her neck. He glanced up at the roof, brows tugged close.

“Camilla. Breathe. We’re on solid ground.”

“We… we could have died.”

“Death isn’t in my plan, pet.”

A beat of silence passed.

“Do not call me pet.”

“Noted, kitten.”

She uttered a filthy name under her breath, her trembling easing as she shifted from fear back to annoyance.

He smiled. Good. She was feeling feisty enough to work through whatever beginning stages of shock she’d been experiencing.

Perhaps he also smiled because he realized he liked annoying her. Despite the strict rules of this society that tried to tame women, she bit back. He enjoyed seeing her teeth.

Envy was so focused on Camilla that he didn’t notice they had company until a pointed object cut through the night, jabbing him sharply between his shoulder blades as a shadowy arm lashed out from the shrubbery.

A hiss escaped his lips—more from surprise than pain—as he spun around, keeping Camilla out of harm’s reach.

“What—”

“Unhand my friend at once, you scoundrel!”

Lady Katherine leapt from the nearest bush, lifting her weapon again—her heeled shoe—and waving it threateningly.

Envy closed his eyes, wondering whether the game was truly worth this cost. If his brothers could see him now. Being assaulted by women’s footwear.

“I swear, if you ruin her—”

“Does it look like I’m ravishing her?” he growled, keeping his voice low.

Lady Katherine still brandished her shoe, but she craned her neck and hobbled awkwardly on one shoeless foot to get a better look at Camilla.

Just then Vexley’s voice bellowed out from above, drawing their attention to the open window and the shadowy figure stumbling past it. With luck the idiot would fall out.

Envy turned back to Lady Katherine, his patience gone.

“Unless you’d like to be the cause of her ruination, move out of my way. Now.”

Lady Katherine kept her cool gaze locked on Envy.

“Her dress is torn.”

“You’re very astute,” he deadpanned, earning a fierce glare.

“You can leave her here in the garden with me and go, my lord. Scandal avoided.”

“Please, Kitty.” Camilla’s voice startled them both. “I wish to leave now.”

“You’re certain this gentleman hasn’t accosted you?” she asked, still glaring at Envy as if he were the lowest form of life and cradling the heel of her shoe as if to jab him again. The way she said gentleman indicated she meant vile deviant. An accusation that was fitting enough.

“Yes. Please. We need to leave before someone spies us. You know columnists always sneak onto the property.”

Katherine’s expression suddenly shifted. “Oh! Is he a potential loyal companion?”

“Kitty!”

Camilla’s strength at last returned, and she practically shoved herself out of Envy’s arms to stand on her own, teetering only slightly.

That reaction certainly piqued his interest, but before he could gather any more information, they heard an approach.

Lady Katherine, the shoe-wielding bandit, pressed her lips together but hobbled back, allowing them finally to pass without any more interference.

As Camilla passed by, she reached out to squeeze her friend’s hand.

Envy wasted no time. He strode toward the side alley, where he’d instructed his driver to wait, pleased that Camilla hurried along after him without prompting.

Hushed voices and a giggle carried across the garden, sounding suspiciously like Widow Janelle—followed by a soft moan, which spurred Envy to grab Camilla’s hand and lead her the rest of the way to his carriage as swiftly as possible.

This villain would play the role of gentleman only so long before he struck back. The next clue was practically in his grasp, and Envy would be damned—more than he and his court already were—if he allowed one more person to stand in the way of his securing that painting before time ran out.