Текст книги "Throne of the Fallen"

Автор книги: Kerri Maniscalcol

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

THIRTY-ONE

HOUSE SLOTH WAS unlike anything Camilla had ever experienced in even the most upper-crust homes of Waverly Green. She doubted even the king or queen of the realm could boast such wealth. She’d never seen their castle; they lived in Sundry, a city far north of Waverly Green that served as Ironwood Kingdom’s capital.

And not simply wealth of objects, but of knowledge.

Inside, they entered a circular foyer.

Multiple corridors were accessible from the entryway, the rambling castle spanning beyond sight in all directions.

For all intents and purposes, it appeared to be an enormous library.

Every hallway she could see was lined with dark wooden shelves filled with leather-bound books. Brass sconces burned quietly along tasteful paneling, and plush handwoven rugs lined the hardwood floors.

“This is breathtaking.” Camilla slowly spun to take it all in. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

Below their feet, a compass rose was inlaid in gold.

Sloth gave her a bashful look, so unlike his brother’s arrogance. And unlike the dagger-wielding demon prince who’d just stabbed Envy through the chest.

“Come,” he said, “I’ll give you a tour while we wait for my brother to arrive. If you’d like,” he added. “If you’d prefer to go straight to your guest chambers, that can be arranged.”

Camilla smiled tentatively. She’d rather learn what she could, right now.

“If it’s no trouble, I would love a tour.”

Sloth inclined his head.

“I am curious, though,” she said quickly, “about the column out front. The carvings were so beautiful. What do they mean?”

Sloth seemed pleased she’d noticed.

“It’s our interpretation of the Twin Pillars, although unfortunately not an exact replica.”

“I haven’t heard of them,” Camilla admitted.

“It was an ancient site dedicated to the stars and night sky, though some argue it signified the Seelie and Unseelie courts. The pillars attract lightning, and when it strikes them, they glow, and the constellations carved onto them are meant to project into the amphitheater where they sit. One pillar is said to be good, and to reflect harmony and prosperity, gifts from the old gods. The other is rumored to be evil, and to depict cataclysmic destruction, offering a warning in a sense. Or so some of the more plausible theories go. No one is really sure, of course. What we do know is that they offered the Fae a direct pathway to the mortal lands.”

“I would love to see the real ones someday, then.” Camilla could only imagine what a sight that would be. How magical it must feel to see the heavens greet the Underworld, a union that shouldn’t exist.

“Unfortunately, they’re now hidden below my brother’s circle, bound there by magic.”

“Why?” Camilla’s heart sank at the thought of the ancient site being defaced.

“The Unseelie King’s obsession with mortals grew in such a way that it endangered them and the boundaries of our world. Lennox was warned to stop his antics, but he didn’t take kindly to being commanded by a demon, no matter that my brother rules over all Underworld realms. Lennox felt that as the Unseelie King of his own island to the west, he, and his court, should not be held to the same rules. So we had to limit his access, for the good of all.”

“One person ruined it for everyone.”

“Not a person,” Sloth said gently. “It’s imperative to remember that no beings you meet in the Underworld or any of the shadow realms are human. No matter how human they appear.”

“Right, of course.”

He gave her a tight smile, then motioned ahead.

“Inside, House Sloth comprises two hundred and thirty thousand feet of shelving.”

Camilla was still considering the Pillars, but Sloth drew her attention back to him.

“Last count there were one hundred and eighty-seven thousand books, sixty-four thousand specimens, twenty thousand pieces of art, including sculptures, and nineteen hundred weapons. Each artifact is housed within the reading chamber most suited to its subject.”

Camilla couldn’t wrap her mind around those figures, but she saw he wasn’t embellishing the number. The ceilings in every direction soared at least thirty feet, and shelves with ladders utilized the entire space.

House Sloth was utterly magnificent but somehow still retained a sense of warmth and invitation, despite its size and grandeur. Perhaps it was the overstuffed chairs arranged in alcoves throughout, or the large oak beams, weathered from age, decorating the vaulted ceilings. In any case, a part of her wished to immediately curl up with a book and lose all track of time.

There wasn’t a hint of pride or ego in Sloth’s tone as he tallied his collection, she noted; he spoke as if only doling out facts.

“I cannot begin to imagine how many years it’s taken to curate such an extensive collection,” she said at last.

“Too many, I’m sure, but such is the burden of my sin.”

He nodded toward the wing in front of them. Above it a carved plaque read SCIENTIA.

“Each wing of the estate is broken down into sections like this one. Every book in this wing relates to science; different rooms within that wing are dedicated to different subsects. Flora, fauna, anatomy, astronomy, archaeology, and so forth. Then there are history, geography, art—and within that wing it’s broken into illustrations, oils, time periods, and artists, or even, for fun, ‘the art of seduction’ or ‘flirtation’ or ‘culinary arts’—and then there are the poems, plays, fiction, and of course tomes sorted by species. Fae, vampire, werewolf, demon, witch, goddess, mortals, halflings, changelings, shape-shifters, and so on. There are also birth records for the supernatural royalty throughout the ages, and sections dedicated to the occult. Spells, curses, hexes, enchantments, alchemy, riddles, puzzles and games.”

Camilla’s heart felt as if it were about to sprout wings and take flight.

“How on earth are you able to obtain so many birth records?” She shook her head, the answer swiftly coming to her on its own. “Spies.”

“Umbra demons—the most unique of the lesser demons—are mercurial creatures at best, but being incorporeal lends them a certain finesse. You simply need to ensure that you’re paying them the highest amount. They are loyal only to themselves. And my brother Pride, mostly.”

“Your collection is all quite impressive, Prince Sloth.”

He pursed his lips, and Camilla wondered what she’d said that had displeased him.

“Pardon me, Your Highness. If I’ve overstepped—”

“You haven’t, Miss Antonius.” He gave her a warm smile. “I go by Lo. Please do away with any formalities. Only my brothers call me Sloth, and it’s typically to get a rise out of me.”

Lo guided her down a long, winding corridor that was easily twice the size of her town house. He paused before the next hallway, glancing up at the plaque.

HABENTIS MALEFICIA.

Witchcraft.

“Some wings are more… sentient. They often rearrange themselves—nothing too disconcerting. Windows and doors switch places, furniture changes. One hour you might find a settee, the next a barstool. Sometimes spells we investigate go awry. Witchcraft doesn’t come easily to demons.”

“Do you do much investigating?” Camilla asked.

Lo lifted a shoulder, shrugging noncommittally.

“My court dabbles in a little of this and a little of that. We enjoy being well-rounded.”

Which was demon evasion for yes, she thought wryly. Maybe he hadn’t written her off as a threat quite yet.

“Would you be able to find something out of its place?” she asked, thinking of the game.

“Of course; we keep strict records of each and every chamber.”

Records were wonderful, but they’d still need to search through each room. And that could take a lifetime, she was realizing.

They continued into the next corridor, each one more impressive than the last.

Instead of hardwood, this floor was made of what appeared to be black marble with deep crimson specks.

Lo caught her curious stare.

“Heliotrope. More commonly known as bloodstone. It’s mined from just outside Malice Isle. The seat of the royal vampire court.”

He didn’t elaborate and Camilla didn’t press. She’d heard whispers in the dark market of the vampire prince—it was said he always heard his true name when it was spoken aloud, no matter where or when—and she did not wish to draw his attention if those rumors were true.

“Most ladders are enchanted,” Lo said. “Simply call for one and direct it where you’d like to go.” At her surprised look, he added, “We are quite capable of physically moving ladders, of course, but why not enchant if one can? We may prefer mind over brawn, but don’t forget, we are demons. House Sloth will battle just as ruthlessly as any other House of Sin.”

He’d said it so casually one could almost miss the underlying threat.

“Duly noted, Lo. I have always believed that the mind is more fearsome than the sharpest blade. It alone can devise many ways to cut an enemy down.”

Camilla had not fallen into the trap of believing he was simply a harmless book aficionado, but she could understand how others would. Easily.

She wondered if that made him even more dangerous.

How many others had foolishly underestimated the Prince of Sloth? Had mistaken his penchant for reading all day for laziness instead of what it truly was—honing the best weapon in his arsenal: his mind.

If knowledge was power in this circle, then the prince standing before her, hands tucked carefully into his pockets, dripped with it.

He gazed back at her with the precision of a scientist, and Camilla knew there was no detail he missed, no subtlety or nuance overlooked or cast aside.

Lo was not a lazy, slothful male by any means.

He was infinitely patient. Calculating. Wickedly intelligent. Lo took his time, studying until he was satisfied with all potential outcomes.

If he was currently without a partner and sought one out, God help the person he fell for. Camilla knew he’d leave no stone unturned as he investigated them to the fullest degree, plotting and planning his seduction so well they wouldn’t stand a chance.

Not that anyone would want to. Underneath that unassuming appearance lurked a warrior just as deadly and ferocious as his brothers.

“Your guest suite is just down the next corridor.” His expression had returned to indifference as he continued at a leisurely pace. “Please make yourself at home. My brother will likely turn up within the next hour or two.”

Camilla bit her lip, stalling.

“Might I be permitted to look around more?”

Lo drew up short, eyeing her closely. “What subject are you interested in?”

She wondered if he knew about the game, how much she should reveal.

“Honestly, I’m looking for a clue. It’s for—”

“Envy’s newest game, of course.” Lo sighed. “I’m not sure how you’ve gotten involved with it, but you seem like a good person. Don’t let Envy’s obsession with winning just to boast about it destroy you. These games are seldom worth the price.”

That didn’t feel true, from what Camilla had seen. Envy was driven, focused, yes—but his intensity didn’t seem like something frivolous. He hadn’t told her otherwise, but she’d begun to suspect the game meant more than Envy was letting on. To anyone.

Instead of drawing suspicion to that, she asked the question that had become the most nagging and persistent. Which she immediately wished she could take back.

“Is your brother… attached?”

“Aside from what he calls his curiosities, my brother doesn’t form attachments.”

“Ever?”

Lo cocked his head to one side, considering.

“Envy hasn’t told you of his rule.”

It wasn’t a question, so Camilla didn’t answer.

Sympathy entered Lo’s expression.

“Envy spends only one night with a lover. No matter what you feel, or what you think he might feel, that will not change, Miss Antonius. My brother is incapable of change.”

Envy hadn’t told her that part outright, but thinking back on that night in Kitty’s house… he’d told her it was only that evening. Their secret. The fact that they hadn’t slept together meant their one night technically wasn’t over. Which made her mind spin with possibilities.

“Because his heart was broken before?”

“Because his sin will not allow him to be satisfied with what he has,” Lo said gently. “Envy will always desire something new. Until he gets it. Then he is envious of the next item he covets, the next person claimed by someone else. He’ll pursue you, become wildly territorial until he successfully captures you, then toss you aside. He isn’t cruel. He’s simply ruled by his sin like we all are.”

Camilla wanted to cast the warning aside but thought of Vexley. Of how quickly Envy had despised him. She’d thought it was about defending her. But if Lo was to be believed…

“You’re saying there was never any heartbreak?”

“I never said that.” Lo’s smile was a slow twist of his lips. “If you want my advice, guard your heart and forget my brother. He is content with his games and riddles and plots.”

It was a warning meant to dissuade her, but it had the opposite effect. Camilla liked those things too. Each day, lately, she liked them more and more.

A servant made his way toward them, a bookish demon wearing spectacles. His pace was unhurried.

He handed a note to the prince, then bowed.

Lo read it over, then tucked the paper into his waistcoat.

“Bathe. Eat. Rest. My brother is already requesting reentry.” Lo smiled again, although this smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll make him wait a bit more just to remind him who rules House Sloth.”

THIRTY-TWO

GODS-DAMNED PRICK.”

Envy crumpled the missive in his fist, seconds away from declaring war on his bastard of a brother Sloth. Said war was only narrowly avoided by the surprise visitation request from his other prick of a brother, the gold-eyed demon staring at him now.

Envy glared at Wrath, who was dressed impeccably from head to toe in his signature black.

Gold rings gleamed on his fingers. Only a fool would think they were a simple fashion ornamentation. Envy knew firsthand how they could sharpen a blow.

His brother had come prepared for a fight, and Envy was feeling vexed enough to oblige. Decades ago, Wrath had refused to get involved the first time the game master screwed Envy. A fact he’d never fully forgiven his brother for. If anyone had stood a chance at swaying Lennox back then, it had been Wrath. But he’d chosen diplomacy instead. It set into motion their underlying friction and Envy’s least favorite role he played: the conniving, heartless villain.

Animosity aside, Envy had recently pretended he wanted to steal something his brother coveted. What no one knew was that Envy had his spies secretly feed Prince Greed the location of the two missing goddesses. It was that precious information that set into motion the eventual destruction of a curse. Envy had done his best to push and prod everyone into action, using any foul means necessary, always thinking of his court and their fate.

No one suspected Envy’s true motivation, they all only saw the game player. Which suited him fine.

The demon of war gave him a mocking grin.

“I missed you, too.” Wrath tossed a bag his way, the scent of sugar and cream immediately filling the air. “Not as much as my wife, though.”

Envy glanced inside the bag, a strange feeling thawing his irritation slightly.

Emilia had made cannoli for him. He stared at the bag a long moment, no discernible ulterior motive surfacing, nothing aside from… friendship. Emilia loved cooking, loved nourishing those she cared deeply for. Envy was admittedly a little touched that that now extended to him.

He fought the urge to try one when he realized how closely Wrath was inspecting him.

Envy folded the bag up again, tossed it carelessly onto his desk.

“Gratitude.” Wrath’s tone was amused. “That’s the foreign emotion you’re experiencing. I’ll pass along your thanks. For some reason, Emilia thinks you’re friends now.”

That pleasant feeling in his chest expanded painfully.

Envy squashed it at once.

“Shouldn’t you be home tending to your deviant wife? I’ve heard all about the manacles.”

“She’s visiting her sister.” Wrath’s golden gaze pinned him, all humor draining away. “And if your spies watch my wife again, I’ll come for you.”

Envy sighed.

“Contrary to popular belief, no one cares about your sex life. Don’t bend your wife over every hard surface you encounter outside the castle if you seek privacy like a mortal.”

“Your spies shouldn’t be in my circle, those wards—”

“Why are you here?” Envy interrupted; best not to travel that path.

Wrath stared at him, hard, proving he knew exactly what Envy was up to.

“Where is your court? The corridors were quiet.”

Envy’s stomach tightened. Wrath had been escorted by Alexei, taken directly from the front door to Envy’s study. It had been risky to allow Wrath access, but dismissing the request would also have raised his brother’s suspicions.

He’d warded the corridor to divert any confused members of his court, keeping them far from the demon of war’s watchful gaze.

“A new Iron Age exhibition was recently installed on the upper terrace.”

It wasn’t a lie. Unlike a human, any demon prince would detect deception. Envy had worded it carefully to keep Wrath from sensing any untruth.

Wrath scanned him, gaze sharp. He was clever enough to know something was off, but there was no direct lie to call out. Thankfully, House Wrath recently visited House Envy, and even if his brother was suspicious, Envy’s court had appeared mostly intact then. Wrath would never imagine how far they’d all fallen and how fast.

Envy adopted that bored look his brothers associated him with.

“If you’re looking to make Emilia jealous, I’m sure you’ll find someone to your liking here. Feed my sin while you’re at it.”

Wrath leveled him with a look that indicated Envy was pushing him too far.

“You need to work off some anger. I sensed it from my House.”

Envy was wound tightly. But he didn’t need assistance. He needed to be searching House Sloth for the next clue, and he’d grown tired of his meddling brothers. Eventually, one of them would figure out why he was so tense. He needed to get rid of Wrath before he became an issue.

While Envy had waited for his wound to heal, he’d ventured down into the kitchens. Smoke had drifted up, snaking through the corridors and stairwells. A demon was facedown in the fires, the cause of their death not immediately obvious.

Envy had found Franklin, his butler, wandering in circles before he’d snapped himself together and bowed. He’d briefly forgotten who Envy was.

A sign his memories were growing foggier by the day. Soon he wouldn’t remember who he was, what vital role he played at the House. Envy had sent him to his chambers with instructions to rest, then took care of the kitchens himself.

He’d just scrubbed the scent of burnt flesh from his body when Wrath’s request arrived.

“Well?” Wrath pressed. “Do you feel like fighting, brother? Or do you think you’re going to attempt to take my throne?”

“Trust me, I’m in no danger of vying for your sin. Unlike you, I don’t need to fight in order to get myself under control. Non ducor, duco. I am not led, I lead.”

Wrath didn’t move to strike, but Envy felt the charge build in the air all the same.

“House Vengeance is stirring up enough discord as it reestablishes itself. Your game had better not incite a war within our ranks.”

Envy didn’t let his intrigue about House Vengeance show. Aside from the slight gossip Lust had shared, whispers hadn’t reached his ears yet about Death’s mysterious domain. In fact, Vittoria had been surprisingly quiet since she’d taken her shifters and returned to her House.

“I mean it.” Wrath’s menace shook the floor. “We’ve got enough to worry about with the witches, we don’t need problems with the Fae because you can’t handle your shit. When will you stop playing games?”

Envy’s own annoyance grew. Wrath had no idea how fucked they’d all be if Envy lost this game. It wasn’t his fault the rest of the realm had gone mad. That was not his mistake, and he refused to shoulder any more blame.

“The witches were nearly annihilated in that last skirmish. You know as well as I do that it will take them decades to pose any true threat again. And when do we ever have peace? Sursea, the so-called First Witch, is immortal. We could wipe the realms of all witches, but she’d just spawn more. Peace is a concept that is unattainable, and you well know it.”

Wrath’s hands curled into fists, but Envy pressed on.

“Pride might hate Sursea, but he’d never allow any true harm to come to the mother of his wife. Your quest for peace would incite the very war you claim to want to avoid. Pride would strike your circle without second thought; his entire focus is on finding Lucia. You, out of everyone, ought to know what that feels like. So, demon of war, should I truly believe you suddenly wish for harmony? When wrath fuels you?”

Envy’s smile was all teeth.

He wasn’t done stoking his brother’s sin. Not by a long shot.

“If one foe falls, another will rise in their place. Such is the way of the Underworld. And you like it that way. The monotony of peace was exactly why we all fell to begin with, if you’ll recall. You schemed your way to that throne like the rest of us. No one remains defeated or down forever. No one remains at the top for eternity, either.”

The floor in Envy’s private study rumbled with Wrath’s legendary anger. “Is that a threat?”

Envy gave him the indolent look he knew infuriated his brother.

Perhaps he was looking to fight.

“Have you only come here to annoy me with bullshit talks of peace, or is there an actual reason for this visit?”

Wrath looked like he was silently weighing the benefits against the disadvantages of striking Envy, but he eventually leashed himself. Ever the diplomat.

“Lust said the woman you’ve taken an interest in doesn’t succumb to his influence.”

Lust was going to find himself with a dagger to the balls.

“That sounds like Lust’s problem. I haven’t taken an interest in anyone.”

Wrath’s attention sharpened. Envy silently cursed himself. He’d lied. Demons were proficient with omissions and word play, but never outright lying.

Envy would never reveal the lengths he’d gone to to overcome that curse. The pain. The cost. He hadn’t been certain lying would be necessary for the game, but he had planned and searched until he’d found one ancient legend that could make it come true.

He’d die a True Death before he revealed that secret to anyone.

“Lie.” Wrath prowled closer, his sin igniting once more. “How?”

“You don’t honestly expect me to share my secrets. Why bother asking?”

“Do you care for the woman?”

“I am intrigued with her talent,” Envy said truthfully. “You know I covet unique things.”

“Allow me to rephrase, do you care if harm comes to the woman?”

Envy’s pulse raced. Wrath would hear it, ever attuned to the hunt. The area between his shoulder blades burned with the sudden need to release his wings. Wings that he couldn’t summon. Wings he’d lost with the fall of his court.

“You bore me with your drivel. But yes. I would care if harm came to her. The game wants her in play. Therefore, she holds value for me.”

Wrath narrowed his eyes, silent as he assessed Envy.

“Choosing not to answer the question directly is as good as answering it, Aethan.” His brother was exceptionally cunning when he wished to be. “Perhaps it’s time to stop playing, then. She could get hurt.”

Envy couldn’t have stopped the game even if he’d wished to. And Wrath standing there, acting superior, as if Envy had no clue how much danger Camilla was in, made him want to lash out.

“Do not use my true name in that perverse shorthand again. And do not come to my circle and lecture me. My patience only stretches so far.”

Wrath’s expression didn’t shift. He still wore the cold, mocking smile Envy wished to punch off his face, his gold eyes glittering.

“Spoken like a demon in love.”

He turned then, his muscular frame taking up the entire doorway.

“Pride wagered invitations will be sent out by year’s end,” Wrath said. “After today, I’m calling three months.”

Envy knew he was being goaded.

“Invitations for what?”

“Your wedding.”

Something ancient and restless reared itself inside his chest. Envy would sooner drink from the Fatal Chalice before he married anyone, even Camilla. True, he might enjoy her company, might desire her physically, but it would never go beyond that.

He wouldn’t allow it.

“I look forward to collecting my fortune, then.”

Wrath chuckled darkly, broad shoulders shaking.

“Don’t bet against yourself. Or Greed’s coffers will finally be larger than yours.”

Before Envy’s sin could snap out, someone knocked on the door.

Fear had his breath lodged in his throat before Alexei stepped in.

Envy’s attention shot to his second’s hand, to the note he’d been waiting for from House Sloth.

He tore the wax seal open and read. Fucking finally. He’d been granted permission to enter Sloth’s domain.

He glanced up, annoyed that Wrath was still standing there. “Don’t you have a wife to tie up? Why are you still here?”

Envy sensed it a moment before it happened.

Wrath’s dagger flashed, striking into an invisible foe. An Umbra demon formed, slumped and dying at the demon of war’s feet.

“Keep your spies away from Emilia.”

He crouched to wipe his blade on the dead spy’s tunic, then stepped over its body. Before Wrath could leave on his own and stumble across anything he shouldn’t, Alexei escorted him back to the front doors.

Envy folded his arms across his chest. “Report.”

The second Umbra demon materialized, partially.

“The human—Vexley—disappeared shortly after you left that realm. No one has been able to scent a trail.”

Envy gritted his teeth. “And? What about the artist’s mother?”

“No family in Waverly Green. No blood or hair in the house.”

Which meant there was no way to know if she was a shifter.

He supposed he could cut a lock of Camilla’s hair, have it tested by spell. Find out one way or another what she was, if anything. But if that jeopardized the game, counted as interference…

Envy sighed.

“Keep searching.”