Throne of the Fallen

CAMILLA PACED INSIDE the chamber, feeling caged.

The battle had ended more than an hour before, and Envy hadn’t returned to the room yet.

Alexei had deposited her, locked the door from the outside, then left.

She’d rattled the handle, then tried to pick the lock, to no avail. The vampire said it was a safety precaution, but it felt like she was the prisoner.

She rummaged through the room, finding a little satchel filled with medicinal jars and a slim dagger and sheath she could hide on her person. The dagger Envy had given her was lost to Bloodwood Forest, so this would do nicely for now. A hastily scribbled note read: For the prince’s wounds, reapply as needed. Never forget: Strike hard, little lamb. Blade.

Camilla smiled. Despite how they’d met, she wished Blade well too.

Footsteps rushed past her room, again. A thousand people must have hurried past since she’d been locked in.

Bits and pieces of conversation reached her, confirming that the court was in total chaos.

Apparently only royal vampire heirs had ever deposed a prince before, and Blade’s crimson eyes were making this unusual.

No one knew what to do about Blade’s new position or claim.

Some were saying he was a royal despite his eye color, and then fights broke out over that.

The vampire court during such an internal upheaval was the last place she wished to be.

Camilla thought of her gallery, of her friends and her life back in Waverly Green. She thought of Bunny and wished more than anything else that her sweet furry friend were with her now. She tried to summon the feeling she thought should be gripping her tightly. To no avail.

Aside from her cat and her friends, Camilla didn’t miss much else.

She sat on the edge of her bed, removing the rosary pea cuffs and necklace. A noise outside her chamber drew her attention and she sprinted to the door, banging.

“Hello?” she called.

“There you are.” Vexley’s drawl sounded from the other side. “Camilla, darling. Open the door.”

She thought about banging her head against the wall.

“It’s locked. From your side.”

“Oh.”

Click.

The door swung open, revealing both Vexley and his new girlfriend. The succubus waved her pointed tail, then shoved Vexley against the wall, running her tongue over him with a wink before striding off.

Camilla was too grateful for her assistance with breaking the lock to be disgusted by how aroused Vexley now was. She kept her eyes on his face.

“Are you going back to Waverly Green?” she asked, peering down the corridor.

No Alexei. No Envy. No guards rushing to lock her away.

“I am. Although if you’re asking for a way back, it will cost you more than another forgery, my love.” Vexley smiled and stepped closer. “This time I want you to accept my marriage suit.”

Camilla wasn’t surprised he’d use this situation to his advantage, but she was surprised to realize she hadn’t been asking for a way back to Waverly Green.

If ever there were a time to escape, to run headlong back to her normal life, this was it. No more games, no more Underworld, no more vampire battles or Houses of Sin. But as much as she wanted her cat, she did not want to return home just yet. She still needed to win back her talent.

She retreated from Vexley, slowly shaking her head.

“You misunderstand. I don’t wish to leave.”

His hand clamped down on her wrist, grinding her bones together.

“You misunderstand. It’s not a choice. Zarus’s death has prevented me from obtaining my next clue.”

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with me.”

“I’ve lost the game, Camilla. It’s over for me. But you’re here for a reason too—you’ll ease my pain, won’t you?”

“Let go.”

His grip had tightened, but his expression remained perfectly calm. It frightened her more than his outward fury ever had. His tone was pleasant, cajoling. Like she simply needed him to bring her to heel, to make her see reason.

“This is the way, Camilla. You will return as my wife. We’ll sell more forgeries. Make so much coin, we’ll buy our way into immortality.”

“That’s why you played? To become immortal?”

Vexley’s placid expression faltered. “I have my reasons, darling. Now come along.”

“I said, let go.”

The mask of calmness shattered, revealing the truth of the man she’d seen once before.

“I’m not leaving without a prize, Camilla. Even if that’s you.” Vexley’s gaze had turned cold, his mouth twisting into a cruel sneer.

He shoved her back into her chamber, quickly pinning her against the wall.

“First, we’ll put an heir in your belly.”

His free hand slipped between them, tenderly caressing her stomach as if he weren’t speaking of forcing himself upon her. As if there were anything gentle or sweet about his proposal.

“Vexley,” she said again, trying to remain calm. “You don’t want to do this. Let me go.”

She glanced around wildly; the damn dagger Blade had given her was still in its sheath, too far out of reach.

Vexley leaned in, eyes menacing.

How this man had ever fooled society into believing he was carefree was a mystery. Camilla now saw that his lopsided grin also indicated how off-kilter the scales of right and wrong inside him were.

She channeled her fear, her rage, feeling it collect beneath her skin. She would give him one more chance to unhand her.

“Let go of me, Vexley. Now.”

Her voice was calm, steady. It was a deception. One Vexley fell for.

He leaned into her harder, as if he could force their souls to twine right there. He wished for marriage. Till death do them part. She would grant him at least part of that wish.

He ought to have been paying attention to the silver in her eyes, gleaming like assassin’s blades, not the swath of skin between her breasts.

But Vexley wasn’t wise or observant. His selfish behavior would be his undoing.

His grip on her didn’t loosen. But she no longer cared.

Using that connection, every single place he touched her, she let that strange feeling under her skin loose. Perhaps she was mad. But she’d had enough.

Years of torment, of fear, of folding into herself instead of pushing back, exploded in a torrent of suppressed emotion. Like a dam breaking, everything she’d held back flooded her.

“What the—”

Camilla’s force surged through them both. Vexley’s eyes rolled, showing the whites.

His hands, now fused to her, couldn’t have unclasped her if he’d tried.

She watched distantly as he shook, his body violently convulsing, spittle forming at his mouth—like foam collecting on a churning sea.

She smelled the piss, the excrement, just before the pig collapsed onto his filth, his body twitching one last time.

Camilla stepped back, gaze fixed to the unmoving form, feeling void of emotion. In the distance, perhaps only in her mind, familiar female laughter snaked down her spine. She thought, for one dark second, that her mother would be proud.

She couldn’t say what made her look up; perhaps she knew he’d been there, watching from the shadows. Perhaps she’d simply wished him there and he’d come, summoned by the depravity of what she’d done, or the way she felt not an ounce of remorse.

Envy moved into the light, his attention locked on hers. He said nothing of the man lying dead at her feet. No judgment crossed his features, no fear or revulsion.

Camilla said nothing of the wounds leaking ichor from his body.

Or the brutal way he’d killed in that arena, the pleasure he’d seemed to take in death.

Maybe they were both damned, wicked things, broken in all the right places so they lined up, jagged edge to smooth.

He extended his hand, waiting.

Before she went to him, she grabbed the satchel Blade had gifted her. She didn’t spare another glance at Vexley as she stepped over him. Right now, Camilla wasn’t capable of regret, or worry. Not even shock.

Whatever feelings she’d stored up had emptied, as if she’d used them all.

Clasping Envy’s blood-speckled hand in hers, Camilla gave him one nod and braced for his magic as he whisked them away from the carnage of the vampire court.