Текст книги "Throne of the Fallen"

Автор книги: Kerri Maniscalcol

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

TWENTY-SEVEN

WELL?” ENVY BARKED, staring out through the window at the dark hedge maze.

He’d been mulling over the chaos of the evening, as well as that strange moonlit glow in Camilla’s eyes, trying to puzzle out what she could be, if she wasn’t—as he was beginning to suspect—entirely human.

Envy had guessed she had secrets when she became the key, vital for him to receive the third clue. He hadn’t expected the mystery of who she was to delve so deep.

He didn’t need another complication right now. His mood was downright hostile as he sorted through theories—none of which satisfied.

Shape-shifters, Fae, even some peculiar combination of half-vampires could explain her talent. But he wouldn’t know for certain until he learned all he could of her family.

He’d already sent his spies out with new instructions, to locate Camilla’s mother and find out more, when he’d felt Alexei lingering in the corridor.

Whatever news he brought couldn’t be good. “How bad is it?”

“I’d counsel seeing for yourself, Your Highness.”

Envy glanced at the clock. He had more than an hour and a half before Camilla had agreed to depart, which would give him just enough time to travel to his court and return.

He turned to face his vampire second-in-command.

“How bad?” he repeated, enunciating each word.

“Two-thirds, Your Highness.”

“Fuck.”

Two-thirds of his court now lost to the fog. They’d be in serious peril if anyone else heard how vulnerable House Envy was right now.

Envy strode out the door, the vampire trailing along like a shadow behind him.

They traveled down several sets of stairs in silence, stopping once they reached the wine cellar. The limestone walls held a slight chill that had little to do with the lack of sunlight.

Envy had used magic he could ill afford to spare on crafting a portal here to enter his House of Sin.

“Watch Camilla,” he said to Alexei. “Make sure she doesn’t leave the grounds. I’ll be back in an hour to escort her through the Sin Corridor.”

Alexei inclined his head and disappeared back up the stairs.

Envy inhaled deeply, then held his palm to the wall. He whispered his spell, then walked straight forward, into the secret portal hidden in the stone. Immediately he was submerged in the dense energy connecting the realms, pushing through as if wading through water, but within seconds he’d broken free, striding forward on the other side.

He let out a breath, looking his private suite over. All was how he’d left it. His oversized four-poster bed was unrumpled, the nude portrait of himself still proudly displayed on the ceiling. Good.

The nightstands were polished, but not completely free of dust. A light layer coated the top of the wood, just enough for him to drag his finger across.

His notebooks were piled neatly, the letter that had begun the game tucked carefully between them.

No one had entered this chamber since he’d left.

He steeled himself for whatever would greet him outside this room.

Once in the hallway, the silence immediately struck him. There was no music, no movement. No shuffling of feet or hurried sounds of demons moving to and fro, bringing art, arranging it, admiring what he’d collected and curated throughout the centuries.

Envy’s House had been crafted to give the feel of a museum. Each wing, each level featured a different medium. There was the Tapestry Room on the second floor, along with the Titans Room, and the Longest Night Gallery on the third, where one would also find the Gothic Stair, the Heritage Tower, and the sixth-floor corridor, which featured architectural fragments Envy had collected from across the realms, made of varying materials, his favorite being stone.

He had rooms dedicated to mortal art—Venetian, Renaissance, Baroque, Georgian, Ancient World, Old World. And even, though he’d bragged about it less lately, art from the Wild Court of the Unseelie.

Some wings were even designated by color, mixing and matching different periods. The blue corridor, red, pink, then the metallic wings featuring gold, silver, bronze, and copper. But the green art he’d collected, that was where the magic of his sin truly shone—he had gorgeous variations in shades not known to mortals, far beyond sage, hunter, emerald, deepest moss, or brightest grass.

Envy strode through the hallways, not seeing another soul. He paused to glance out the arched windows in the Mist Corridor, looking at the courtyard below.

Empty.

His courtyard was one of his favorite places. Usually it was alive with courtiers, some playing music and others setting up canvases along the gardens. He’d always delighted in their paintings and sketches of the water features, or the birds who nested in the magical winterbud trees he’d imported from the far north. He’d taken such pride in the unrivaled beauty of his home.

That was all before. Now only the statues and sculptures he passed watched his silent procession, their stone faces as lifeless as his court.

Alexei hadn’t exaggerated. Things were much worse.

Envy’s long stride ate up the expansive corridors, growing quicker the longer he went without seeing anyone. Near stairs leading to the upper level, where the nobility who preferred to remain at court stayed in luxurious suites, he paused.

There, in the distance, he heard it. Wailing.

Jaw locked, he aimed for the sound of grief, holding his worry and anger tightly in his fist, allowing no trepidation or dread to show on his face.

After an eternity he stopped before a chamber.

He raked a hand through his hair, despite his vow to look unaffected.

“Fuck.”

This would not be good. For the first time in his immortal existence, the Prince of Envy considered running from his court.

Please, he silently begged any Underworld god who’d listen, spare them.

He hoped he wasn’t too late.

The door he stood before belonged to Lord and Lady Casius, two of the higher-ranking nobles, the lady a member of his council, made up of demons he’d known for centuries. Who’d schemed with him, who’d searched for spells with him for decades now, hoping to delay the madness. Who’d found the one spell he could use to lie. Who’d believed Envy would see them all saved, in the end. They never blamed him for what he’d done, even though he deserved it.

If they succumbed…

There were few things in any of the realms that Envy could imagine being worse.

The Lord and Lady Casius had been blessed by the old gods, and before he’d departed for the game had brought three new demons into the world, even knowing the risks. The babes couldn’t be older than six months, even with the time he’d been away.

Envy knocked gently, then pushed the door open, his nails digging into his palms as he entered the room.

It had been destroyed.

“Who are you?” Lady Casius screamed, her gown tattered and torn. “Who is that?”

“Shh,” he soothed, “it’s me, Piper. Prince Envy.”

Tears streamed down her face, terror making her back away.

“I… I don’t know you.”

She wailed again, the sound echoing in the once finely appointed room. Glasses were broken, art ripped from the walls. As if a battle had been fought, blood was splattered across the wallpaper.

“I don’t know him! WHO IS HE?”

Envy followed her pointing hand to the slumped form at her feet, blood pooling out from the lifeless body. She’d attempted to cover him with her bedding. Had torn the sheets from the mattress in a violent frenzy. A moment of clarity must have hit at some point.

He slowly approached, hands up, then knelt, already knowing what he’d find.

Dreading it.

He pulled the sheet back and quickly averted his gaze. Lord Casius had been gone for some time. Envy wasn’t certain how he’d missed the scent of rot when he’d first opened the door. To kill a demon… it wasn’t an easy feat. They were long-lived, perhaps not immortal like Envy and his brothers, but not casually lost, either.

Envy saw some defensive wounds on his friend’s hands, knew if he’d still been in his right mind he wouldn’t have struck his wife, even if she was repeatedly striking him.

Gods-damn. When Envy won the game and restored balance—because he refused to consider the alternative—Piper would never recover. Even if she got her memories back, she’d never forgive herself.

In so many ways, Envy was already too late.

He was struggling to figure out a way to remove his old friend when Piper’s next words pinned him in place.

“Who are they?” she screamed, her tone shrill. “WHO ARE THEY? They kept staring and crying. WHO SENT THEM TO KILL ME?”

“Who are…” Envy had a sudden realization and couldn’t bring himself to look.

But as the prince of this circle, it was his duty.

He would own this sin, allow it to scar his soul. These deaths, these murders… they belonged to him. If he’d never given the chalice to her…

He would solve the riddles, claim his prize, and make this right. No matter the cost to him. No matter who he had to deceive, kill, or toy with in the process.

Envy would win. Or his circle would be no more.

His eyes stung as he forced himself to scan the room.

There, in the corner, where the cribs had been…

Bile seared up his throat; he squeezed his eyes shut, closing off the unspeakable sight. It made no difference. The image was burned there, forever.

Envy allowed himself one moment of grief; then his resolve hardened along with his heart. He needed to set this right before he returned to Camilla. And he had little time left.

“I did it.” Lady Casius fell to her knees, horrible clarity flashing in her eyes.

Envy knew it would soon pass like it always did; the memories would fog once again, and she’d be blissfully unaware of reality.

He needed to get Piper out of this chamber immediately, needed to see about—

A shriek filled the air.

Before he saw the blade, before he could cross the room, Lady Casius had thrust the dagger through her chest, her knees cracking against the marble floor a moment before her skull did.

Envy felt the blow as if in his own heart.

Cursing, he scrubbed his hands down his face, fighting down an unfamiliar panic, until his breathing was in control. Then he wrapped his heart in ice, the coldness erupting from him to coat the room in a layer of frost, and he set about collecting his fallen friends.

Once again, Envy had been too late to save them, and now he had five more deaths to add to his sins. Five more demons he’d sworn to protect.

He would not leave them here; he would take their bodies to where they had taken all the rest. At the very least, then, they would no longer be alone.

TWENTY-EIGHT

“WHAT MAKES YOU trust anything that hexed creature said?” Camilla asked.

Envy had been watching her closely. Too closely. She’d known from the moment she’d opened her chamber door that he was not in a pleasant mood. He’d scanned her, his gaze hard, his mouth a cruel slash as he took a step inside and all but bared his teeth.

“I told you to put on something warm. Get a cloak.”

“Do not speak to me like that,” she said firmly. “I’m not a child.”

“Then don’t act like one.”

She narrowed her eyes. Something was certainly amiss.

Camilla wasn’t sure what had shifted. If he’d had any warmth for her before, it was long gone. His coldness, the hard set of his mouth, the unforgiving glint in his gemlike eyes—here stood the villain of lore. The Prince of Hell wicked enough to inspire parents to tell their children terrifying cautionary tales.

She had no idea what could possibly have happened in two short hours to turn him into this harsh beast.

She scanned him slowly, looking for any clue. There was no blood, no wrinkle in his hunter-green suit, no crack in his icy façade or hair out of place. Yet she felt his dark energy roiling below the surface.

“What happened?” she asked quietly. “Did another player attack?”

“If we’re sharing information now,” he said, voice dangerously soft, “why don’t you start by telling me about your parentage? Or perhaps about your charm?”

Everything inside her stilled.

“What?”

“Most mortals cannot conjure reality with a few strokes of their brush, Miss Antonius.”

“Well, lucky for you, isn’t it, that I could.”

He took hold of her hand, whispered something in an ancient tongue, and in the very next breath Camilla suddenly stood on what felt like the edge of the universe.

The world of Hemlock Hall had vanished, replaced by something much darker, vaster, and colder.

Envy dropped her hand, stepped closer to her side, and murmured, “Welcome to the void outside the Seven Circles. This is the space that connects it to all other realms.” He smiled grimly. “And before you are the infamous gates of the Underworld.”

Camilla stared at the strange air around her, fear prickling her skin almost as much as the icy wind. Looking down, she was stunned to find herself clothed in a thick cloak, which had somehow magically appeared.

There was no sound at all, except for the prince’s voice.

And the thrashing of her pulse. Anger made her spin to face him, eyes flashing.

“Are you completely mad?”

“Not yet.”

Camilla had half a mind to leave him and strike out on her own. Except his clue had indicated that she needed to go to House Sloth too. Cursed game, and it’d only just begun. For her, at least.

“If you ever put your will above my own,” she said, her voice lowered but laced with the promise of vengeance, “you will regret it, Envy.”

“There are many things I regret, Miss Antonius, but taking you here isn’t one of them.”

He jerked his chin toward the gates.

“We have a long way to go before we settle for the night. I suggest moving.”

Camilla tamped down her annoyance. She had to focus on the game, and she supposed the menacing gates were the only way to Sloth’s court. Besides, she’d long had to tolerate brutish males. She could continue to do so, for now.

She turned to look at the strange cavelike chamber before her.

The gates Envy spoke of gleamed nightmarishly several paces in front of them, carved from bone and horn and fang. Creatures too wicked to live and too sinister to be forgotten, forever immortalized in a warning to all who passed through.

There was beauty in the Gothic feel of it, a dark beauty Camilla shouldn’t wish to paint. And now that her talent had been stolen, she couldn’t. Panic clawed at her as she tried to summon her talent, once again to no avail. Even with her magic bound, the shape of the arch called to her.

The shift from Waverly Green to this strange land was so abrupt, Camilla could scarcely wrap her mind around the truth of it even as the iciness seeped into her skin. The Prince of Envy had well and truly dragged her to the Underworld. No story ever could have prepared her for its majestic terror. Not even the darkest tales told by her father.

“We must pass through the Sin Corridor first,” Envy said, breaking the spell. “It will test you to see which sin you have the biggest affinity for. You may experience some… odd… feelings as each magic attempts to seduce you. Don’t worry, I’ll be watching over you with the utmost interest.”

“I’m sure you will,” she said icily. Ignoring his attempt to distract her, she considered what that actually meant. She’d be tested for each of the deadly sins.

Lust. Greed. Envy. Pride. Wrath. Gluttony. Sloth.

Seven ways for this realm to do its worst.

Camilla determined right there that she wouldn’t make it easy, on Envy or this forsaken place. Now that she was forewarned, she’d be waiting for the first indications of magic.

“Any questions, Miss Antonius?”

“What will happen in Waverly Green while we’re gone? I have a business, a life. I cannot simply cease to exist while you play your game.”

He arched a brow; she’d surprised him. Good.

“I’ll have my people craft a plausible story for our absence. And I’ll purchase some art in your gallery upon our return. Payment—”

“You will do no such thing. I do not need your charity.”

“It’s an exchange for the inconvenience, and time lost. You’re a wise businesswoman, surely you see the value in that. Any other questions?”

She saw the value in that, all right. She would find the most expensive pieces in her collection and tally them up. This might even guarantee she could pay her staff for the next two years.

Mollified, she considered what else she needed to know.

“How long will each test last?”

“That depends entirely on you. This realm thrives on sin—the way oxygen and water are the fabric of life in the mortal realms, vice is part of this realm’s being.” He paused. “We need to travel on foot until the Corridor has completed its test. Other magic is forbidden until you’ve experienced each sin and have been aligned with a House, so even if I wanted to, I could not simply bring us to House Sloth.”

“This realm needs to determine where I belong, even if I’m not staying? And you have no power over it?”

He assessed her before answering. “Vampires, Fae, shifters, and goddesses also dwell here, and while they do not normally choose to align with any demon House, the Sin Corridor will always be curious to see where you would do best. Think of it as a natural order, if you must. No matter how powerful a prince is, no matter that this is our domain, there are some laws of nature even we cannot break.”

He guided her forward, their steps silent, lost to the surreal depths of the void.

Before them, the walls around the gates were cavelike—stone panels soaring higher than she could ever hope to see unless she sprouted wings, the color a strange bluish black.

Opaque, like thick slabs of ice.

Envy placed a hand on her back, urging her forward, and had them through the gruesome gates within seconds.

She wondered whether he was only anxious to be on his way, or didn’t want her examining the gates too closely.

The moment they’d crossed the threshold, the gates closed behind them, trapping her in this strange new world of snow and ice.

Sounds returned, as ominous and wretched as she’d have imagined. Winds gusted, ice-coated branches clattered, and in the far distance she swore she heard snarls as of some great beasts.

It did not surprise her that humans had been told the Underworld was a land of fire when in fact the opposite was true. Places hidden from mortals were often disguised in an attempt to keep the humans from realizing where they were, should they ever stumble upon them.

She gazed around at distant mountains, the surrounding evergreen trees, and the steep corridor through them, yawning on and on in front of them, trying to orient herself.

Everything was buried under snow.

Even the sun—if it could be called that—was a dulled orb pinned to a twilight sky. Another storm was blowing in. The cold air smelled of nature’s violence.

“You remain remarkably unaffected, Miss Antonius. Why is that?”

“I’ve been fed stories of different realms as part of my weekly sustenance for as long as I can remember. My father frequented the dark market from the time I could walk.”

The prince waited for her to elaborate, his cool, aristocratic features as remote as this frozen land.

Of course the Seven Circles, the realm ruled quite literally by sin and debauchery, by seven dark and dangerous princes, were forbidding. Like the regal man next to her. Or rather, regal demon prince.

That would take some getting used to. Remembering he was no mortal man.

She tamped down the rush of excitement she felt, hating how the thought of his power affected her.

“That didn’t answer my question.” Envy was watching her curiously.

She lifted a shoulder but remained silent.

After lying to her and now this kidnapping, he would have to wait forever before she’d reveal any more secrets about herself.

Camilla drew in a deep breath, the cold air forcing her senses to heighten.

Envy hadn’t lied, at least not about the Sin Corridor. She’d pretended to be unaffected, but she’d felt the magic of the world circling them like a pack of wolves sniffing out potential prey. She wondered which sin would strike first, test her mettle. She also wondered if the realm would be surprised at what it discovered.

“We’ll travel as far as possible, but if the test hasn’t finished, we’ll need to shelter in the Corridor for the night,” the prince said, breaking the silence.

Camilla flicked her attention to Envy, noticing the tension in his body, the strain.

He couldn’t have seemed more on edge if he’d tried. From what she recalled of old stories, he did not need to remain with her.

He was choosing to do so. Probably to ensure that she didn’t run. Or maybe it had to do with his sin. Envy wouldn’t want her to stray too far from his side.

He looked her over clinically.

“Are you cold?”

She shook her head, then quickly gestured to the grand cloak. He was not the only one capable of withholding unnecessary details.

If he found that suspicious, he didn’t comment on it.

Instead, he began their slow trek through the snow, remaining a few steps ahead to tamp down a path for her. It was practical, but also kind.

Camilla drank in each part of this realm as they walked, guzzling details and storing them away to paint when she returned home, theoretically with her talent again intact.

This was precisely the sort of scene that would make her name in Waverly Green. Her father had known that distinctiveness was the key; his whimsical fantasy pieces had been so unique compared to the religious or still life paintings so many others gravitated toward.

This would combine Camilla’s love of landscape with the vibrancy of the fantastic. Something not quite as on the nose as Pierre’s work, but so perfect for her, holding secret worlds that begged to be explored.

There was so much white, of course, but it was broken with deep, rich splashes of green from the trees, gray clouds in the sky, and a beautiful bluish tint where the ice was exceptionally thick. The colors were muted but rich, holding steady against the looming danger of the dramatic weather.

They traveled up steep hills and down sharp ravines. Sometimes the path was so narrow she had to turn to the side to pass, and other times it was wide enough to march an army through.

The farther they trudged, the more she understood that this realm was vast—much more so than she’d ever heard. It seemed to go on forever in every direction—the corridor only hinting at what majesty might lie beyond those high mountain peaks.

Camilla had never traveled far outside Waverly Green, except for her family’s yearly outings to their country estate nearby. Still, her mother had loved to share stories of her previous travels across the mortal world, often painting a picture with her words as deftly as Pierre had with his watercolors. For many years, her mother and Pierre had seemed an exceptional match.

Yet her mother’s restlessness had put an end to that.

After her father had died, Camilla had thought about following her mother’s footsteps and leaving Waverly Green. Suddenly alone, she realized she could go anywhere, do anything. At home, it had seemed possible that the flood of loneliness and memories would drown her. But she’d made a choice, holding close her father’s honor, choosing instead to run Wisteria Way.

Camilla had never really regretted her choice, but she’d still secretly dreamed of seeing the worlds from her father’s stories one day. Although the reality that she was doing so now with the Prince of Envy at her side seemed more than she’d bargained for.

Every so often she felt the slight pressing of magic against her and mentally brushed it away. Wrath was only mild annoyance. Gluttony was a slight desire to keep feasting on the world. Envy was wishing she had a way to come here whenever she wanted to soak it all in and feeling jealous of those who could. Yet nothing overwhelmed her, nothing commanded her.

She was the master of her will. If only she could summon her talent as easily.

Envy kept his attention mostly fixed on the tree line, indicating that the snarls she’d heard earlier were in fact beasts. She’d heard legends of three-headed hounds and could picture those creatures making the eerie sounds they heard now.

Envy glanced at her a few times, his brow creased as if she were the one riddle he couldn’t solve.

She waited, breath held, for him to question her, but he never did.

She studied him while his back was to her, openly admiring his powerful frame, the certainty of his confident, unhurried steps. Envy was at home in this harsh world, undisturbed. He was the greatest predator in this corridor and knew it.

And that knowledge made her annoyingly attuned to him.

Camilla watched the way even the snowflakes seemed to part for him, not daring to muss his hair or clothing, admirers merely sweeping to the side, bowing to their prince.

If she were to paint him now, here, she’d have the whole realm bending to his mighty will. Would show the earth folding in at his feet, kneeling too.

She snorted.

He’d love the idea of being worshipped by the very earth he stood upon.

He shot a look over his shoulder.

“Nothing,” she said, answering the unspoken question in his eyes. “Just amusing myself.”

“I can see that.” His mouth curled up at the edges, the first flicker of playfulness she’d seen on his face since he’d brashly brought them here.

He turned and set an increasingly brutal pace.

On and on they walked.

Instead of Camilla’s being fearful of the snarls and roars all around, a sense of adventure reemerged, her creativity spinning visions of what the creatures hidden in the forests might look like, how she might paint them when she won her talent back. Because she would win it back.

Would the creatures be great winged beasts, perhaps with the head of a lion and the body of a whale? Would their fangs be the size of her arms? Would they be covered in thick coats of fur, or in scales, or something wholly new?

The possibilities were endless.

Excitement rushed through her as the next roar sounded, vibrating through the ground. It sounded like it was directly over the nearest hill. Camilla thrilled at the pounding of her heart, the rush of her pulse.

Envy shook his head, his expression still mildly amused at her reaction, but remained silent.

Camilla realized that fear had shaken something awake inside her, made her want to shed her civility and become all animal too. Dangerous. Batting aside these pestering sins, it was the only thing that truly tempted her. Aside from the prince himself.

But he was dangerous for a far different reason. She sensed he could unleash in her all she’d kept locked away, hidden. And the idea of him unraveling her secrets was no longer as frightening as it should be.

Winds gusted with renewed vigor, the tops of the trees swaying, beckoning her to let go too.

The snow began falling more heavily, dotted with ice.

Envy stopped abruptly.

“We’ll stay here for the night.”

Camilla peered through the dense foliage.

Here was nothing but a battered cabin built from roughly hewn trees, barely large enough for her, let alone the two of them together. Not after this day of Envy tempting her so fiercely.

For the first time since she’d entered this realm, Camilla’s heart raced for an entirely different reason. It seemed her true test of will was about to begin.

And this time, she had little hope of winning.

Brushing off magic was one thing, but ignoring her growing desire was something else entirely. And this sinful realm knew it.