“THAT IS ABSOLUTELY not a clue,” Lo said for the fourth time. “Put it down.”
Camilla closed her eyes, praying for some sort of divine interference. After she’d slept for only a few short hours, more frustrated than ever after Envy’s win last night, they’d all had breakfast, then immediately began their day of hunting.
By now, they’d been searching for the next clue for ages and the demon princes were driving her well past the point of madness. She was feeling downright murderous.
Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that she’d done exactly as the antithesis of Prince Charming had suggested, unable to sleep without finding release after he’d driven her wild once again. That he’d somehow outmaneuvered her at her own game ought to be criminal. Next time, she’d have to plot her victory better. Clearly, he’d been repaying her for the Sin Corridor.
Game on, demon.
This morning they’d all been methodically searching through one chamber after the next, deciding that the three of them, plus two research assistants, would complete a more thorough search if they worked together, room by room, shelf by shelf, using Lo’s meticulous records to compare what was in the room with anything that might have been added.
Which sounded fine in theory until one factored in the princes’ inability to work with each other without fighting. Every. Cursed. Minute.
Camilla scanned the room, her attention pausing on an artifact that looked like a dark moon. Glass, smoky and opaque. A few shelves over, an enormous nautilus shell was displayed, measuring at least two feet in length, larger than any she knew of in the mortal world.
“Give it to me now,” Lo said to Envy.
Using gloves, Lo gingerly plucked the illustrated manuscript out of Envy’s hands, setting it back under a glass encasement.
“You’re certain it’s not a clue?” Envy asked. “I don’t see it listed.”
“This book has been part of this collection for three hundred years. In a House with this many artifacts and tomes, it’s unfortunate that one was missed in the ledger, but not unheard of. Put it back down.”
“If you’re sure Lennox didn’t plant this clue back then,” Envy said, “show me the proof.”
“Tell me why you need to win so badly, and I’ll consider sharing my court secrets,” Lo lobbed back. “This game just began in the last month or so, correct?”
“Lennox has been known to plant clues whenever the opportunity arises.”
“You’re not answering my question,” Lo said.
Best of luck with that futile inquiry, Camilla thought crossly.
“Maybe the gossip column was correct. Maybe you’re playing for much more this time.”
Camilla’s brows rose. “Gossip column? What did it say?”
Envy shot his brother a contemptuous look. “It didn’t say anything.”
“How very odd,” Camilla said, “that a paper should print nothing at all. Yet here we all are, discussing something.”
“Bloody hell, do you ever cease with your games?” Lo said. “The paper is public knowledge.” He shook his head and looked at Camilla. “Rumors suggest Envy’s circle has been magically warded. No one has been able to go in or out. It started just when the game did.”
“I don’t see how it matters whether it is true,” Envy said.
Camilla watched him closely. His demeanor had shifted slightly—it was nothing very noticeable, but he’d tensed for the briefest moment before adopting that frustratingly blasé attitude. As if he couldn’t be bothered about the rumors.
Which was categorically false, as he’d just tried to keep that rumor from her.
She couldn’t sort out why he’d attempt to downplay its significance unless he was hiding a much darker truth.
“Exactly,” Lo said, interrupting her thoughts. “You refuse to tell me any of your court secrets, so I have no desire to share mine.”
As the princes continued to bicker, Camilla wished to throttle them both. They’d now been at this particular disagreement for an hour. She half wished they’d pull their cocks out to compare sizes and get on with it.
Envy’s attention snapped to her.
“Mine’s much larger, Miss Antonius.”
She rolled her eyes. Leave it to Envy to pick up on that.
Lo glanced between the two of them, brows knitted at their silent conversation.
“Nothing.” Camilla waved her hand, irked. “Please, continue this scintillating argument. I’m sure we have several more hours we can dedicate to it as well.”
The two males picked up where they’d left off, completely missing her sarcasm.
At the rate they were going, they’d never make it out of House Sloth.
Perhaps this was evidence of the prince’s sin at work. They were moving at a snail’s pace, and Camilla had never realized before how inactivity drove her mad. At home she was always in motion: drawing or painting or curating the gallery or visiting Kitty. Tending to Bunny and waltzing her around the town house, kissing her fuzzy little peanut head.
Now Camilla was… losing her mind.
She missed her big gray-and-white cat.
She wanted to find the next clue as much as Envy did, but she, at least, refused to be waylaid by petty feuds and court politics.
Thinking of clues, Camilla briefly wondered if she should be searching for something else for her first riddle, but no note had magically appeared with any game rules for her, and no blood oath had been signed. So was she not quite a player? She supposed she was a pawn.
A fact she hated.
Just as the game master had known she would. He’d made his move expertly. This had been the highest form of blackmail, proving there really was no honor among thieves.
If she’d never agreed to Envy’s bargain, she would never have painted a hexed object. And she’d not be in this predicament now. It had all been plotted brilliantly.
Camilla needed to get her talent back.
But it wasn’t Envy’s fault. One way or another, her path would always have ended on this road. She’d known that the hunter’s return was an inevitability, as was the lure of the Fae. The clouds of her past had been looming above for some time, gathering into this perfect storm.
She closed the book she’d long since stopped scanning and glanced around the chamber again. They were in a room dedicated to emotions, and the only thing she felt at present was irritation. Everything looked to be in place. No book stood out to her, no object, except…
Her attention returned to the giant nautilus, then drifted over to that smoky glass ball.
It wasn’t unusual to find an object or artifact tucked into the shelves here, but something about this object kept drawing Camilla’s eye. Perhaps it was simply shiny and pretty and like a magpie she had a fondness for sparkly items.
“Hand it over,” Envy said, continuing the argument with his brother.
“As outrageous as it is to consider, your game isn’t responsible for everything in this bloody realm,” Lo shot back, equally annoyed. “If you can’t tell me why this is so important to win, don’t expect me to put my court in peril.”
Camilla crossed the chamber to get a better look at the gleaming nautilus shell.
Her fingers glided over the smooth surface, marveling at the burnt-umber stripes running along its curved outer edge.
She turned it over carefully, admiring the mother-of-pearl interior and the clever spiral pattern the mollusk was known for. Nature was the greatest artist.
She replaced the shell and picked up the glittering ball, holding it up to the light.
Her mood shifted from annoyance to wonder. The ball was even more magical up close. What she’d initially believed was opaque glass was actually thousands of little ebony grains that moved like sand within an hourglass each time she turned it.
The object was lovely.
Something about it made her want to smash it to pieces.
She’d raised her hand, intent on doing just that, when one word broke her trance.
“Stop.” Magic laced Envy’s voice, the power winding around her until she couldn’t have ignored him if she’d tried.
The prince was slowly approaching, hands up, like she was a wild animal ready to attack.
“What?” she asked.
“Put the Orb of Golath down. Slowly.”
Envy kept his gaze on her, steady, calming. Yet his demeanor only succeeded in making her more nervous. Her attention shot around the room. Lo, the two male research assistants who’d been quietly thumbing through each shelf, everyone had stilled, watching.
She looked down at the object she held, noticing the strange pulse for the first time. It beat like a phantom heart, like a distant drum. Somehow she felt like all the fears in the universe had been collected and were pounding at the thin glass to be freed.
“Oh, it’s doing… something.”
Envy moved slowly but steadily, his voice low and commanding. “Look at me. It will not harm you so long as it remains intact.”
Of course, that statement made her want to toss the damn thing far away.
“It’s pulsing.” Camilla suddenly feared she’d hold it too tightly and shatter the glass by accident. Then she worried she’d not hold it tightly enough and it’d drop.
It undulated in her palms, the feeling twisting her insides into knots.
“Whatever it tries to do to get you to drop it, you must ignore it,” Envy said. “The orb wants you to break it.”
“The orb of what?”
“Gods’ bones,” Envy muttered. “Did you even see the cursed thing sitting there, Sloth?”
“Must have been glamoured from us.” Lo sounded shaken.
“Why?” Camilla asked, trying to ignore the slick, cool feeling of the glass. It shifted again, now reminding her of a leech as it suctioned to her skin. “Why wasn’t it glamoured from me?”
“That is the question, isn’t it?” Envy asked, his tone curious. He shifted to his brother. “It wasn’t part of your collection, correct?”
Lo shook his head. “No. I don’t have an orb on the premises.”
“Then this is definitely our next clue.” Envy faced her again, face grim. “Try to set it down now, Camilla.”
“I… I don’t think I can.”
“You can and you will.” Envy seemed coiled to strike out at the orb. “Once it’s been touched, only the person who picked it up can set it back down. I can’t take it from you.”
With fear surging through her veins, Camilla gently set the orb back on the shelf, mindful to step away as slowly as she could in case it decided to take a tumble on its own. She exhaled only after it was several feet away from her.
Envy drew her behind him.
“Where should we destroy it?” Envy asked.
Camilla stared daggers at his back. “Breaking it seemed like a very unwise idea a moment ago.”
He glanced over his shoulder, his expression inscrutable. “You’re more… breakable.”
“Give me a second,” Lo said. “I’ll draw a containment ring. It should be safe there.”
One of the assistants brought the Prince of Sloth a piece of chalk, and while he drew a perfect circle and added runes she assumed were for protection, Camilla racked her brain for what it was. She couldn’t recall any stories.
“What is the Orb of Golath?” she asked again.
“Golath is known as the Fear Collector, an ancient being often thought to have possessed the first spark of evil,” Envy said, still standing guard over the ball. “No one knows how many orbs are in existence, but they open doors even we demon princes fear to pass through. That one is here indicates we need to seek Golath next. He gifts them when he has a message. Or when he has a fear to collect.”
The Fear Collector.
Of course, the next clue had to be some ancient evil. Why not the Wish Granter? The Dream Weaver?
And she’d been the one marked to find this clue.
Envy’s attention remained locked on the orb, his expression set in hard lines as he concentrated. He’d dispatched the Hexed Throne with barely any effort, so to see him taking such care was anything but comforting.
“Are you ready to break it?” Lo asked, looking up from the containment circle.
The Prince of Envy took a step toward the orb, then glanced over at Camilla.
“Stand as far from the circle as you can, Miss Antonius.”
She moved to the far corner of the room where the two assistant demons were crouched, books clutched to their chests. They’d likely been intrigued by the hunt for information, the excitement of finding a clue. Judging from the way they trembled, they hadn’t expected things to get so dangerous. An oversized desk sat between them and the circle, which didn’t seem like much protection at all.
Lo and Envy exchanged long looks, their conversation silent before Lo inclined his head, agreeing to whatever his brother had asked.
Without looking at Camilla again, Envy finally grabbed the orb.
He walked straight into the chalk circle, gave his brother one last hard look, then shattered it at his feet.
Camilla inhaled sharply.
A mammoth, nearly incorporeal creature reared up. It had the head of a goat and the body of a muscular man. Its horizontal irises landed on Camilla, taking her in.
It remained silent, cocking its head, its gaze never straying from where she stood.
“Golath.” Envy’s voice carved through the tension building in the room. “Where are you?”
“What are you, when are you, these are more interesting queries.”
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?”
With a troubled look, Envy ushered them back down the tunnel, away from the Fear Collector, and didn’t once turn back.
