The creature didn’t remove its dark gaze from Camilla. A forked tongue shot out between its overlarge teeth.
She remained very still, willing it to look elsewhere.
“Golath,” Envy warned.
“You know where I am, Prince Envy. Below. Far below. Beneath the place where the tombs burn and the ground withers. Come find me if you dare. Bring the silver-haired one. I do so enjoy gifts.”
The Fear Collector spun its nearly incorporeal body like a cyclone and disappeared into the circle, vanishing the shattered orb with it.
A heavy silence fell. Envy remained where he was, attention fixed to the floor, as if waiting for the creature to spring back and attack. But once it became clear it wasn’t returning, he stared directly at Camilla.
His expression was carefully blank. Lo didn’t look at her at all. Nor did the other two demons.
Unease clawed at her. She did not want to be that creature’s gift.
“Grab your cloak,” Envy said to her softly. “We’re traveling below the flaming tombs. The fire that burns there produces ice, not heat. Making survival… unpleasant.”
“No.”
The only one who didn’t seem surprised by her refusal was Envy.
He expelled a frustrated sigh.
“Unfortunately, this isn’t a negotiation, Miss Antonius. If the decision were up to me, you’d remain here. Better yet, I’d deposit you back in Waverly Green. Since we are both without choice in the matter, grab your cloak.”
Camilla’s attention slid to the others in the room. She did not want to debate in front of them.
“Sloth, a moment of privacy, please?” Envy said, surprising her.
Once the other demons had left, Envy pulled her against his chest.
“Let’s play a little game of truth, Miss Antonius.”
She nestled against him, nodding.
“I won’t permit anything to hurt you. True?”
“Yes. But—”
“There is no but, pet. Nothing will harm you.” He smoothed a hand down her spine. “Do you trust me?”
She laughed, pushing back from his embrace. “Not at all.”
He gave her a wolfish grin. Then seriousness entered his features. He pulled a small dagger from inside his suit. It was silver like her eyes, its sheath carved beautifully.
She hesitated for only a second before taking it. It wasn’t made of iron, but it wasn’t any metal she was familiar with either.
Envy tucked her hair behind her ears, then stepped back.
“You can trust me with your life, Camilla. That is something precious. Something I’d never play with. No matter what game is happening. Truth?”
Camilla held his gaze for a long moment, then went to fetch her cloak.
The tunnel below House Sloth was exactly what one should expect from an underground labyrinth deep within the bowels of the Underworld, home to creatures so terrible they do not seek the light.
Walls of frost-coated stone had been carved out to form the tunnel, the passage narrow enough that Camilla’s shoulder brushed against the prince’s as they walked silently.
Envy had had Sloth enchant her cloak so it regulated the temperature, ensuring that she wouldn’t freeze to death, but the air was still brutal on her face. He carried a flameless torch, which didn’t burn but provided enough light for them to see.
In many places the stone walls were gouged by claws, splattered with what had probably once been blood. There weren’t any bones or skeletons—Camilla got the impression that whatever dwelled this far into the realm didn’t leave such delicacies behind.
Occasionally they heard screams in the distance.
Once, when a yowl so terrible it made her shiver rent the air, Envy held a finger to his lips and grabbed her hand, pulling her down another winding passage, not slowing his grueling pace until the infernal wailing was a distant nightmare ringing in her ears.
He hadn’t let go of her after that.
The closer they got to the land below what Envy had called the flaming tombs, the colder it got, like the world itself was warning travelers away.
Camilla had thought it couldn’t get any worse, and it proved her wrong. If it hadn’t been for the magic cloak, she would have frozen.
Her eyes stung, tears freezing on her cheeks. Panic made her want to cry harder.
Will my eyes freeze shut?
Envy abruptly pulled her in front of him, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. Her skin heated immediately, warming from his magicked touch.
“Breathe, Miss Antonius. The tunnel is meant to induce fear. Golath feeds on it.”
Another less-than-comforting thought.
He waited until she found her calm center; a feat that was more difficult than she’d have imagined.
She nodded after another moment and they continued on, Camilla feeling marginally better.
Finally, after another long descent into an abyss, Envy stopped. He kept his hand wrapped around hers, his grip unyielding.
“Golath.” Envy’s voice had been low, but it rumbled along the darkness.
Her heartbeat quickened again as the creature appeared from the shadows, peering at them curiously.
Camilla simultaneously couldn’t take her attention from it and never wanted to look upon it again. Here, where it chose to live, it was no longer nearly incorporeal. It was fully flesh and bone, its goatlike eyes glowing a sickly yellow in the dark.
Camilla couldn’t make out much more than its horns, and that was only because of the light given off by its eyes. She couldn’t see its mouth but sensed its smile.
“Interesting companions make for interesting stories. Come closer, curious mistress.”
Its voice was deep, elemental. Different from that of the Hexed Throne, but somehow similar.
Camilla held her ground—she was not prey, no matter how much this tunnel wanted her to believe that—and the creature moved closer.
“Ah. What a tale there is to tell.” Its yellow eyes flicked to Envy. “Master of secrets, prince of the dark, how peculiar to find yourself trapped in it. Moons are such chaotic things. Inconstant, flickering. As is new blood.”
Envy tensed.
“What information do you have about the game?”
“What are games but opportunities to either boast of victory or taste defeat? Have you not already won?” The Fear Collector’s gaze flared. “Proceed with caution, for there’s much to lose.”
Envy’s grip on her tightened, but she sensed it had more to do with frustration than anything else.
“Speak plainly. Or is this a riddle I need to solve?”
The Fear Collector watched Camilla with slitted eyes.
“There are many riddles, many games, many players. If an ice prince falls, will a crimson one rise? I suppose that depends on who does the slaying. Blood must spill.”
It slunk back into the shadows.
Envy swore. “We’re not done.”
“Curious are those who hide in plain sight. Beware, young prince. There are many slithering, venomous snakes in this sultry garden. Deception is the most wicked game of all.”
Suddenly a name popped into Camilla’s head—Prometheus—as if the Fear Collector had placed it there for her, bright and bursting on her tongue like a ripened strawberry.
She wanted to spit the name out, shout it into the void, but clamped her teeth together.
If the Fear Collector wanted her to do something in its presence, she would hold off for as long as possible.
She wondered if he’d done the same to the prince but refused to ask until they were above ground again.
“Is that it?” Envy asked.
“Memories, like hearts, can be stolen. My whispers echo through shadows, across realms, across times and dimensions, following and finding those who need to hear them. You never heed the warning, young prince. Will you now?”