With a troubled look, Envy ushered them back down the tunnel, away from the Fear Collector, and didn’t once turn back.
THIRTY-EIGHT
THE UNDERGROUND SPIT them out near the edge of Bloodwood Forest, an area not far from the border of Envy’s circle where using magic was forbidden.
He cursed the Fear Collector for the parting gift. Envy had planned on retracing their steps, but the ancient being clearly sought amusement and had deposited them where Envy couldn’t easily return to his court. It wasn’t lost on him that another player was rumored to have visited this forest two nights before. Maybe he’d find some trace of them.
Once they safely reached his domain, he’d magic them to a private cottage near his House, where he could think without interruption.
Envy strode ahead of Camilla, wondering once again what secrets the artist was harboring and how they might possibly fit into his game. He wasn’t one who usually found himself in the dark. And he didn’t care for this growing mystery.
It was one thing for Sloth to be suspicious—he was wary of everyone he met until he’d fully investigated them from conception to birth to present day—but for the Fear Collector to sense something… his warning had been clear. Camilla was hiding something.
Variables and unknowns were a sure way to lose. And losing wasn’t an option.
No matter how passionate Camilla had been delivering her little speech about leaving the past behind, some scars shaped the future. Envy had made a mistake. A mistake he couldn’t forgive himself for. His entire court was suffering the consequences, and he needed to make it right.
He held his loathing for the Unseelie royalty tightly in his grasp, never forgetting the role they’d played. It was a concept she wouldn’t understand; her life was a mere flicker in time.
Until she’d lost and let others down and felt the weight of responsibility press onto her shoulders, she couldn’t lecture him on only seeking sunshine and completely forgetting that the world also needed rain to thrive.
Darkness was never as appealing as the light to most, but that didn’t mean it was any less integral to life. Too much sunshine withered the soul.
Balance was the key.
“Who is Prometheus? Is it the actual Titan of myth?”
Her question drew him up short.
Had she understood what the Fear Collector had rambled on about in that circuitous way of his?
Envy held a finger to his mouth and glanced around the empty path, listening carefully. The woods were quiet, save for the gusting winds, whining and howling through the bare branches like scared mutts.
They were almost to his domain, where he could use his magic without issue.
“Do not say his true name aloud again.” Envy’s hand was on his dagger, his attention sweeping the woods again. “The vampire prince and his spies are always listening.”
Camilla’s face paled.
“I thought his name was Zarus.”
Envy’s eyes narrowed.
“For a mortal who’s never been to the Underworld, you know a lot of interesting information.”
“I think the Fear Collector planted the name in my head,” she said defensively. He didn’t have time to wonder about that oddity before she added tartly, “And the second was because my father had a lot of tales to share.”
Envy’s grip on his patience snapped. “Ah, yes. The man who was so obsessed with realm lines that he built a secret tunnel on top of one. Tell me, Camilla, why was your father desperately trying to find a way into Faerie? Or was he looking for certain shifter realms?”
Camilla’s mouth pressed into a straight line, her gaze darting away.
She remained silent.
“The woman in that painting didn’t happen to be the queen, did she?” he asked. “And I do not mean the mortal monarch. I know for a fact that Prim Róis likens herself to Eve. Strange that the painting was named for Evelyn. Perhaps your father had an affair with the Unseelie queen?”
If her mother had been a shifter, she would have despised the affair even more. Shifters and Fae mixed as well as oil and water.
Camilla’s steely gaze clashed with his; he’d struck a nerve.
His smile was as sharp as his words had been, but he needed to push her until that hard wall she’d erected broke. It was high time he knew what he was dealing with.
Lennox wanted her to accompany him to the Underworld.
The Fear Collector had given her the next clue.
He wanted to know why. Why her. With her rare talent. With her expansive knowledge of his realm. With her ability to withstand most demonic influence.
Who was Miss Camilla Antonius?
He was damn well going to find out.
No more waiting, no more games. If he had to be ruthless, so be it.
Envy took a step toward her, impressed she didn’t retreat. Males twice her size would cower before a Prince of Hell.
“My spies have unearthed lots of curious information on your father.”
Camilla froze.
“You spied on us?”
She’d spit the question out like it tasted foul.
He inclined his head. Envy didn’t like sparking emotions tied to his brother’s sin, but the angrier Camilla got, the less likely she was to hold on to all her secrets.
“What are you, Camilla? Immortal? Halfling? Or just a deviously talented human liar?”
Fury laced her tone.
“What other absurd theories would you like to add, Your Highness? A lioness? An eagle? I know,” she mocked, “maybe I’m a dire wolf.”
“Why do you intrigue so many dark beings, Camilla, if that’s even your true name? What do they sense that my brothers and I cannot? Why are you a necessary piece to the game? Lennox chose you. Why?”
Her expression shuttered completely.
And something inside him went feral.
He stalked closer, needing to know what she was hiding, needing to know her.
This little game had reached an end.
His sin lashed out. There was a wall between him and her will and he barreled into it, driving his power at it over and over, envisioning it like a wall of ice.
Nearly impenetrable until he made a tiny crack.
A tiny fissure was all he needed for his sin to finally burst through.
Camilla responded to envy, he’d seen it before. Envy projected images into her mind, both to fuel his power while he drained himself and to entice her true emotions to surface.
He pictured the Goddess of Death, when she’d fucked his second in front of him. Her ancient lavender eyes had locked on Envy, attempting in vain to stoke his sin.
At once, both he and Camilla were in that memory together, reliving his thoughts beat by beat as Camilla watched, confused, through his mind.
His focus traveled over her gown, obviously chosen with this tableau in mind. Vittoria always was the theatrical twin; it was a wonder she and Emilia had ever convinced his brothers—and the whole realm—that they were one entity all those years ago.
Vittoria’s dress was nothing more than two swaths of lavender material that covered her breasts, then gathered at the middle before pooling to the floor. Long sections of bronze skin flashed with each of her movements.
Envy kept his emotions from that night away from Camilla, only showing her the goddess as Vittoria watched him, her desire for him bleeding through his memories, funneling straight into Camilla.