Throne of the Fallen

GODS-DAMNED PRICK.”

Envy crumpled the missive in his fist, seconds away from declaring war on his bastard of a brother Sloth. Said war was only narrowly avoided by the surprise visitation request from his other prick of a brother, the gold-eyed demon staring at him now.

Envy glared at Wrath, who was dressed impeccably from head to toe in his signature black.

Gold rings gleamed on his fingers. Only a fool would think they were a simple fashion ornamentation. Envy knew firsthand how they could sharpen a blow.

His brother had come prepared for a fight, and Envy was feeling vexed enough to oblige. Decades ago, Wrath had refused to get involved the first time the game master screwed Envy. A fact he’d never fully forgiven his brother for. If anyone had stood a chance at swaying Lennox back then, it had been Wrath. But he’d chosen diplomacy instead. It set into motion their underlying friction and Envy’s least favorite role he played: the conniving, heartless villain.

Animosity aside, Envy had recently pretended he wanted to steal something his brother coveted. What no one knew was that Envy had his spies secretly feed Prince Greed the location of the two missing goddesses. It was that precious information that set into motion the eventual destruction of a curse. Envy had done his best to push and prod everyone into action, using any foul means necessary, always thinking of his court and their fate.

No one suspected Envy’s true motivation, they all only saw the game player. Which suited him fine.

The demon of war gave him a mocking grin.

“I missed you, too.” Wrath tossed a bag his way, the scent of sugar and cream immediately filling the air. “Not as much as my wife, though.”

Envy glanced inside the bag, a strange feeling thawing his irritation slightly.

Emilia had made cannoli for him. He stared at the bag a long moment, no discernible ulterior motive surfacing, nothing aside from… friendship. Emilia loved cooking, loved nourishing those she cared deeply for. Envy was admittedly a little touched that that now extended to him.

He fought the urge to try one when he realized how closely Wrath was inspecting him.

Envy folded the bag up again, tossed it carelessly onto his desk.

“Gratitude.” Wrath’s tone was amused. “That’s the foreign emotion you’re experiencing. I’ll pass along your thanks. For some reason, Emilia thinks you’re friends now.”

That pleasant feeling in his chest expanded painfully.

Envy squashed it at once.

“Shouldn’t you be home tending to your deviant wife? I’ve heard all about the manacles.”

“She’s visiting her sister.” Wrath’s golden gaze pinned him, all humor draining away. “And if your spies watch my wife again, I’ll come for you.”

Envy sighed.

“Contrary to popular belief, no one cares about your sex life. Don’t bend your wife over every hard surface you encounter outside the castle if you seek privacy like a mortal.”

“Your spies shouldn’t be in my circle, those wards—”

“Why are you here?” Envy interrupted; best not to travel that path.

Wrath stared at him, hard, proving he knew exactly what Envy was up to.

“Where is your court? The corridors were quiet.”

Envy’s stomach tightened. Wrath had been escorted by Alexei, taken directly from the front door to Envy’s study. It had been risky to allow Wrath access, but dismissing the request would also have raised his brother’s suspicions.

He’d warded the corridor to divert any confused members of his court, keeping them far from the demon of war’s watchful gaze.

“A new Iron Age exhibition was recently installed on the upper terrace.”

It wasn’t a lie. Unlike a human, any demon prince would detect deception. Envy had worded it carefully to keep Wrath from sensing any untruth.

Wrath scanned him, gaze sharp. He was clever enough to know something was off, but there was no direct lie to call out. Thankfully, House Wrath recently visited House Envy, and even if his brother was suspicious, Envy’s court had appeared mostly intact then. Wrath would never imagine how far they’d all fallen and how fast.

Envy adopted that bored look his brothers associated him with.

“If you’re looking to make Emilia jealous, I’m sure you’ll find someone to your liking here. Feed my sin while you’re at it.”

Wrath leveled him with a look that indicated Envy was pushing him too far.

“You need to work off some anger. I sensed it from my House.”

Envy was wound tightly. But he didn’t need assistance. He needed to be searching House Sloth for the next clue, and he’d grown tired of his meddling brothers. Eventually, one of them would figure out why he was so tense. He needed to get rid of Wrath before he became an issue.

While Envy had waited for his wound to heal, he’d ventured down into the kitchens. Smoke had drifted up, snaking through the corridors and stairwells. A demon was facedown in the fires, the cause of their death not immediately obvious.

Envy had found Franklin, his butler, wandering in circles before he’d snapped himself together and bowed. He’d briefly forgotten who Envy was.

A sign his memories were growing foggier by the day. Soon he wouldn’t remember who he was, what vital role he played at the House. Envy had sent him to his chambers with instructions to rest, then took care of the kitchens himself.

He’d just scrubbed the scent of burnt flesh from his body when Wrath’s request arrived.

“Well?” Wrath pressed. “Do you feel like fighting, brother? Or do you think you’re going to attempt to take my throne?”

“Trust me, I’m in no danger of vying for your sin. Unlike you, I don’t need to fight in order to get myself under control. Non ducor, duco. I am not led, I lead.”

Wrath didn’t move to strike, but Envy felt the charge build in the air all the same.

“House Vengeance is stirring up enough discord as it reestablishes itself. Your game had better not incite a war within our ranks.”

Envy didn’t let his intrigue about House Vengeance show. Aside from the slight gossip Lust had shared, whispers hadn’t reached his ears yet about Death’s mysterious domain. In fact, Vittoria had been surprisingly quiet since she’d taken her shifters and returned to her House.

“I mean it.” Wrath’s menace shook the floor. “We’ve got enough to worry about with the witches, we don’t need problems with the Fae because you can’t handle your shit. When will you stop playing games?”

Envy’s own annoyance grew. Wrath had no idea how fucked they’d all be if Envy lost this game. It wasn’t his fault the rest of the realm had gone mad. That was not his mistake, and he refused to shoulder any more blame.

“The witches were nearly annihilated in that last skirmish. You know as well as I do that it will take them decades to pose any true threat again. And when do we ever have peace? Sursea, the so-called First Witch, is immortal. We could wipe the realms of all witches, but she’d just spawn more. Peace is a concept that is unattainable, and you well know it.”

Wrath’s hands curled into fists, but Envy pressed on.

“Pride might hate Sursea, but he’d never allow any true harm to come to the mother of his wife. Your quest for peace would incite the very war you claim to want to avoid. Pride would strike your circle without second thought; his entire focus is on finding Lucia. You, out of everyone, ought to know what that feels like. So, demon of war, should I truly believe you suddenly wish for harmony? When wrath fuels you?”

Envy’s smile was all teeth.

He wasn’t done stoking his brother’s sin. Not by a long shot.

“If one foe falls, another will rise in their place. Such is the way of the Underworld. And you like it that way. The monotony of peace was exactly why we all fell to begin with, if you’ll recall. You schemed your way to that throne like the rest of us. No one remains defeated or down forever. No one remains at the top for eternity, either.”

The floor in Envy’s private study rumbled with Wrath’s legendary anger. “Is that a threat?”

Envy gave him the indolent look he knew infuriated his brother.

Perhaps he was looking to fight.

“Have you only come here to annoy me with bullshit talks of peace, or is there an actual reason for this visit?”

Wrath looked like he was silently weighing the benefits against the disadvantages of striking Envy, but he eventually leashed himself. Ever the diplomat.

“Lust said the woman you’ve taken an interest in doesn’t succumb to his influence.”

Lust was going to find himself with a dagger to the balls.

“That sounds like Lust’s problem. I haven’t taken an interest in anyone.”

Wrath’s attention sharpened. Envy silently cursed himself. He’d lied. Demons were proficient with omissions and word play, but never outright lying.

Envy would never reveal the lengths he’d gone to to overcome that curse. The pain. The cost. He hadn’t been certain lying would be necessary for the game, but he had planned and searched until he’d found one ancient legend that could make it come true.

He’d die a True Death before he revealed that secret to anyone.

“Lie.” Wrath prowled closer, his sin igniting once more. “How?”

“You don’t honestly expect me to share my secrets. Why bother asking?”

“Do you care for the woman?”

“I am intrigued with her talent,” Envy said truthfully. “You know I covet unique things.”

“Allow me to rephrase, do you care if harm comes to the woman?”

Envy’s pulse raced. Wrath would hear it, ever attuned to the hunt. The area between his shoulder blades burned with the sudden need to release his wings. Wings that he couldn’t summon. Wings he’d lost with the fall of his court.

“You bore me with your drivel. But yes. I would care if harm came to her. The game wants her in play. Therefore, she holds value for me.”

Wrath narrowed his eyes, silent as he assessed Envy.

“Choosing not to answer the question directly is as good as answering it, Aethan.” His brother was exceptionally cunning when he wished to be. “Perhaps it’s time to stop playing, then. She could get hurt.”

Envy couldn’t have stopped the game even if he’d wished to. And Wrath standing there, acting superior, as if Envy had no clue how much danger Camilla was in, made him want to lash out.

“Do not use my true name in that perverse shorthand again. And do not come to my circle and lecture me. My patience only stretches so far.”

Wrath’s expression didn’t shift. He still wore the cold, mocking smile Envy wished to punch off his face, his gold eyes glittering.

“Spoken like a demon in love.”

He turned then, his muscular frame taking up the entire doorway.

“Pride wagered invitations will be sent out by year’s end,” Wrath said. “After today, I’m calling three months.”

Envy knew he was being goaded.

“Invitations for what?”

“Your wedding.”

Something ancient and restless reared itself inside his chest. Envy would sooner drink from the Fatal Chalice before he married anyone, even Camilla. True, he might enjoy her company, might desire her physically, but it would never go beyond that.

He wouldn’t allow it.

“I look forward to collecting my fortune, then.”

Wrath chuckled darkly, broad shoulders shaking.

“Don’t bet against yourself. Or Greed’s coffers will finally be larger than yours.”

Before Envy’s sin could snap out, someone knocked on the door.

Fear had his breath lodged in his throat before Alexei stepped in.

Envy’s attention shot to his second’s hand, to the note he’d been waiting for from House Sloth.

He tore the wax seal open and read. Fucking finally. He’d been granted permission to enter Sloth’s domain.

He glanced up, annoyed that Wrath was still standing there. “Don’t you have a wife to tie up? Why are you still here?”

Envy sensed it a moment before it happened.

Wrath’s dagger flashed, striking into an invisible foe. An Umbra demon formed, slumped and dying at the demon of war’s feet.

“Keep your spies away from Emilia.”

He crouched to wipe his blade on the dead spy’s tunic, then stepped over its body. Before Wrath could leave on his own and stumble across anything he shouldn’t, Alexei escorted him back to the front doors.

Envy folded his arms across his chest. “Report.”

The second Umbra demon materialized, partially.

“The human—Vexley—disappeared shortly after you left that realm. No one has been able to scent a trail.”

Envy gritted his teeth. “And? What about the artist’s mother?”

“No family in Waverly Green. No blood or hair in the house.”

Which meant there was no way to know if she was a shifter.

He supposed he could cut a lock of Camilla’s hair, have it tested by spell. Find out one way or another what she was, if anything. But if that jeopardized the game, counted as interference…

Envy sighed.

“Keep searching.”