Throne of the Fallen

APPARENTLY HOURS AFTER he’d arrived at House Sloth, Camilla finally received word that Envy was on the premises. She felt immediately annoyed that he hadn’t bothered to check on her. After bathing quickly, she’d wandered around for the entire day, doing her best to hunt down their next clue. Alone.

Not to mention that the last time she’d seen him, he’d had a dagger sticking out of his chest. Instead of letting her know he was indeed all right, he’d gone straight to a chamber on Fae history.

If Camilla harbored any misconceptions about where his priorities lay, they were dashed now. Clearly his one and only focus was on the mysterious game.

“Despite our introduction, Lo seems very personable. And he is rather handsome,” Camilla said by way of greeting, curious to press Envy’s sin to see how much of a rise she could get.

Envy snorted but didn’t lift his head from the book he was flipping through. His sin had not been invoked. Maybe he didn’t feel for her. The thought rankled.

“You clearly disagree. Why?”

Envy flicked his emerald gaze to her.

“After stabbing me, did my lovely brother happen to explain why he goes by that name?”

She slowly shook her head and his devious grin emerged, alluring dimples and all.

“Because he delights in laying his enemies low. Sloth is as wicked as they come. I’d advise never falling for his personable veneer.”

“Although one ought to be thankful I at least make an effort, right, brother?”

Lo leaned casually against the doorframe, a pair of spectacles hanging from a chain around his neck. He’d discarded his tailcoat and rolled his shirtsleeves up, exposing toned arms and what appeared to be a tattoo of some phrase peeking out.

“My court is searching through every chamber as we speak. If there’s anything out of place, they’ll find it.”

He glanced between them, his expression difficult to read.

“It’s getting late, so I’ve instructed my cook to send food up to your suites. Since we’ll be working around the clock to locate the clue, we don’t have time for a formal dinner. I hope that will suffice, Miss Antonius.”

Envy clapped once.

“Well done. You skirted the truth beautifully.”

At Camilla’s inquisitive look, he added, “Sloth prefers to snack in his chambers while reading. Whenever he can avoid a large dinner gathering, he will. His House motto is Libri Ante Vir. Books before man. He probably has it permanently inked on his ass.”

Lo didn’t deny the charge.

“Should you need anything, Miss Antonius, please don’t hesitate to ask. My cook is more than happy to make whatever you’d like.”

“Have some of my preferred cocktails sent up. And some demonberry wine for Miss Antonius to try.”

Envy leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the table, the picture of arrogance. He’d just ordered another prince around, in a circle that did not belong to him. Even Camilla understood that that was deeply insulting.

Lo pressed his lips into a line. He was probably debating whether to strike Envy again. This time Camilla imagined he’d stab deeper.

“Don’t forget the muddled blackberries and brown sugar,” Envy added. “It’s going to be a long night.”

Camilla smiled as Lo rolled his eyes and exited the chamber. Envy would be lucky if she didn’t stab him next.

“What, exactly, are you hoping to find in this section?”

Envy cut a look her way, then held up the book he’d been immersed in.

It was a history of the Unseelie King.

“Lennox thinks himself a god, but he must have a weakness. Once I find it, I’ll exploit it.”

Spoken like a true villain.

But that was just another mask, she guessed. She considered her response carefully, knowing that how she proceeded here would either set the stage for him to share what drove him and open up, or it would make him close his heart off entirely.

She’d start slowly.

“You’ve met the king?”

The air chilled several degrees. “Next time we’re in the same room, one of us won’t freely walk away.”

Hatred, ancient and colder than ice, laced his words. It was a dangerous vow.

Camilla shuddered. The Unseelie King must have well and truly done something terrible.

“I imagine the Unseelie are no worse than any other creature in this realm,” she hedged. “Why do you hate him in particular?”

A servant quietly entered the chamber, depositing a silver tray laden with bourbon, syrup, orange zest, and blackberries, and an interesting bottle of wine. It was dark and sparkled like stars.

“Wine or bourbon?” the prince asked, changing course.

“Wine, please.”

Envy got up immediately and fixed them both a drink, handing her a glass of demonberry wine before downing his first cocktail in one go. He made another and sipped it.

He looked her over with slitted eyes. “Were you all right here, alone?”

His question surprised her.

His tone was quiet, casual, but she sensed something dangerous writhing below the surface of his placid expression. It could indicate that what Lo said was true—that Envy would be territorial until their time together ended. Or it could be something else he’d already learned.

He was extremely difficult to read when he wished to be.

“Yes. Your brother gave me a tour.” She paused, observing the way his hand tightened on his glass. “It was all very impressive. I must have asked about everything, but he answered all my questions with a smile.”

“How very generous of him.”

“I asked about you,” she said.

Envy’s brows rose fractionally. “And? What secrets did my dear brother reveal?”

“You have a very interesting rule.”

He looked like a panther that had just scented prey. He sat forward, his half-empty glass dangling from his fingertips, gaze locked onto hers intently.

“Did he fill your head with fairy tales, Miss Antonius? That I am somehow wounded and in need of the right salve?” His smile was all teeth. “I like who I am. I like the challenge of the one-night rule. The way it drives lovers wild. Their jealousy sustains me. Gives me power. And there is nothing I enjoy more than gaining power. You’d do well to keep that in mind, over a fantasy.”

“Maybe it’s your power I’m after, my lord.”

She said it to provoke, but the words didn’t ring untrue.

He smiled at her then, showing off his dimples for the second time that night.

“Remember this conversation after you visit my bed.”

There was that damnably cocksure prince again. At least he was amused.

She wanted to steer him back to their original topic. “You were talking about the Unseelie King, about why you hate him.”

“I’d much rather we discuss our night of passion. How do you feel about wings?”

Wings would be very interesting indeed. Her expression gave away nothing.

She knew he was trying to distract her. But Camilla didn’t take the bait this time. She sat silently, waiting for him to either open himself up to her, or close the door firmly instead.

He topped his drink off, then exhaled, the sound half contented, half resigned.

“Lennox took something from me. Not once but twice.”

Envy sipped his bourbon, his gaze fixed on some faraway point.

“I made the mistake of becoming intrigued with a mortal once before.”

Camilla held her breath, heart pounding at the idea that it was happening a second time. She knew that whatever he said next would be terrible, knew that whatever had transpired had deeply wounded the prince.

“Before Lennox decided to play the first game with me, I used to receive invitations to visit the Wild Court on occasion. Their art is unlike any other, and a party in Faerie… they are legendary for good reasons. Chaos, debauchery. It fuels those who are beings crafted of sin. And the dark Fae are far wickeder than my brothers.”

Envy finished his drink, his attention sliding back to the bottle before he decided to continue.

“That night… something unsettled me about the invitation. It was not just for me, but for… her. However”—he lifted a shoulder and dropped it—“I wasn’t sure if my envy was clouding my judgment. Perhaps I didn’t want her to go because I didn’t want her to be fascinated by anyone else. Perhaps I didn’t want someone to see what I had and manipulate her. Or perhaps I was a selfish, controlling demon, as she’d accused me of being.”

“She went to the Wild Court on her own,” Camilla ventured, her stomach twisting into knots. It was no place for mortals.

“Fae are seductive by nature, especially to humans. You know well—humans grow up on stories, most of which don’t relay the full truth of the Folk. So she went to Faerie, tempted by adventure, tempted by a fairy tale that no one had bothered to reveal is actually a nightmare. She drank their wine, ate their food, and danced with their king. I arrived late, tried to save her. Then I was banished.”

It felt like a bird’s wings were beating inside Camilla’s chest.

“I asked my brother Wrath to intervene, to help me break the ward, but he declined. Wanting to avoid a war with the Unseelie.”

Rumors and legend claimed that the Unseelie King could create wards so intricate not even the strongest being could break them. She knew how powerful Envy was, knew he would have tried repeatedly to slip beyond those impenetrable threads. That his brother had refused must have hurt tremendously, but Camilla wasn’t sure even Wrath would have succeeded.

“From what I know, Lennox didn’t tire of her for a long time. When he finally did, instead of keeping her there where she could live forever, he dumped her back in the mortal world, at the queen’s behest.”

Envy’s gaze when it met hers was void of all emotion.

“Do you know what happens to humans who remain in Faerie too long, Miss Antonius?”

A tear slipped down her cheek. Envy watched it fall.

Time moved much differently in the Fae realm. If the king had kept her there for a long time by his standards, that meant hundreds of years had likely passed in the human world. When the king sent her back, she would have aged instantly and died.

There would have been nothing Envy could do to save her.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. Truly.” Camilla was surprised by how fully she meant it, considering how deeply this mortal woman had clearly affected the dark prince before her.

“Don’t be. It accomplishes nothing.”

Envy grabbed the bottle of bourbon and stood, heading for the door.

He paused before facing Camilla again.

“Promise me something?” he asked.

Camilla nodded but didn’t speak, unwilling to make a vow without hearing the terms.

“Don’t ever trust an Unseelie royal, Miss Antonius.”

He was gone before she could respond.

With his confession still weighing down her heart, Camilla was slow to realize he’d only given her part of his story.

When he first began his heartbreaking tale, Envy had said the Unseelie King had taken from him twice. If the mortal was the first thing, then what else had the king stolen?

If she solved that mystery, Camilla suspected she would finally have the answer to what Envy was after, and why winning the game was worth any cost.