Текст книги "Throne of the Fallen"

Автор книги: Kerri Maniscalcol

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

THIRTY-FIVE

CAMILLA SWALLOWED HARD; her focus fixed to the demon prince, who was gazing back without an ounce of emotion on his face.

She hadn’t realized how often Envy had started looking at her with fire until it was replaced by ice. Perhaps she’d underestimated the control he had over his sin.

She certainly hadn’t expected this reaction from a simple trip to the steam room.

Envy had to be well aware that there was nothing romantic involved with a trip to the spa, a place of relaxation Lo had told her was one of the jewels of his kingdom. Disrobing didn’t automatically equal sex. Being aroused and acting on it were two very different things.

After the story he’d shared, did he truly expect her to run off with his brother?

She and Envy might not have any sort of relationship, but she wouldn’t be heartless.

Even if she had just overheard the last part of his conversation with Lo.

“Unless steam rooms are entirely different in this realm, copulation was not an option, you do realize that, correct?” she asked. “Out of respect for you, I would not have come back to this room to find Lo if it had been.”

His expression turned thunderous.

“How very thoughtful indeed, knowing that you would have gone elsewhere to find my brother, Miss Antonius.”

“You know full well that’s not what I meant. Why are you behaving like this?”

“I’m the one who’s behaving oddly?” he asked. “You seem quite at home here. In the Seven Circles, the Sin Corridor. My brother’s House. Why are you so at ease around demons? Do you not find that strange? I certainly do. What are you hiding, Camilla?”

“You cannot honestly be annoyed that I might have a secret. You. The Prince of Secrets. Why not tell me about the prize you’re after? If you’d like to have an open and honest conversation, we’ll start there.”

She folded her arms across her chest, waiting. If he gave her one secret, she’d return the favor. But he would never get something without sharing in equal measure. If she caved now, it would set up a disastrous dynamic where he expected her to give while he withheld.

Sure enough, the demon remained stubbornly silent.

“I didn’t think so.” She was frustrated beyond measure now. “Since this conversation is traveling down an avenue I’m sure you’ll regret, I am removing myself from it.”

Camilla headed for her suite, and Envy had the audacity to follow her into her private bedchamber.

She whirled on him, truly annoyed. “What are you doing?”

“You wish to relax. I can assist.”

“How are you proposing to do that?”

“Take off your clothes, put on the robe. I’ll rub your back down with oils.”

“And you are so altruistic that you’re offering to do it for me without ulterior motives?” She laughed humorlessly. “Tell me, what exactly were you and Lo discussing before I entered the room?”

Envy scrutinized her.

“Eavesdropping is unbecoming.”

“So is scheming.” She smiled sweetly. “If you have a question, asking is usually the easiest route. Don’t you tire of all the plotting?”

He looked at her as if she were an alien species.

“You hate the Fae so much, yet you play just as many games, Your Highness.”

“Mostly just the royal Unseelie’s,” he interjected, a poor attempt to break the tension.

That admission didn’t help at all.

“What is the second thing Lennox took from you? Is that what makes this game worth winning at any cost?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Camilla shook her head.

“You are so tangled in Fae and the game that you cannot see straight anymore. Of course that matters. You withhold information, tell me half-truths and partial stories, yet demand I lay myself bare at your feet whenever you wish me to. And you give nothing in return.”

She waited for him to say something, to share one small piece of himself. Instead, she saw his expression shutter, saw the mask slip back into place.

For once, she stuck with brutal honesty. “It’s clear you’ve been hurt. That you’re angry. I suspect it all stems from whatever else Lennox took from you. But you’ll have to forgive those who’ve hurt you and forgive yourself above all. Or else you’ll keep carving yourself open, bleeding yourself dry. And I can’t imagine that’s pleasant for an immortal.”

“They don’t deserve forgiveness.”

“It’s not for them.” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “They will never care. They probably don’t even remember. It’s for you. It’s for your brothers, your court. And it’s for me.”

She brushed past him and closed the door to her room.

Camilla would find a way for them both to win the game, and then she’d go back to her quiet little life in Waverly Green, no matter how difficult that might prove to be now.

THIRTY-SIX

ARUSTLE OF FABRIC from the other side of Camilla’s door stopped Envy from chasing her.

Wonderful. Just what he needed to complete his night. She was disrobing and now his mind was envisioning the slow, seductive removal of each garment instead of focusing on methodically uncovering her secret layer by layer.

Even through a thick wooden door she knew the best moves to use on him, knew how to get his mind focused on her, teasing and distracting.

The same way you tease and distract her.

Camilla had not only figured out his game, she was playing it better than he was.

He strode into the sitting room between their two suites and made himself a Dark and Sinful. Double. Minimal ice. Fuck the berries.

He drank it down, barely tasting the liquor he usually savored.

He poured another glass, then went to his private bedroom and dropped onto an overstuffed leather chair. Each sofa, settee, chair, and chaise in House Sloth was made to entice one to lounge, to curl up and lose oneself.

Envy was losing himself, all right, to annoyance, irritation, and a glorious woman with more secrets and puzzles than he had. Two more drinks in, part of him could admit he liked her refusal to show her hand. Camilla made him work hard for each kernel of information, giving him just enough to crave more without ever fully satisfying his curiosity.

She remained a riddle. A vexing, beautiful riddle begging to be solved. He just didn’t have as much time as he’d like to puzzle out the mystery of her.

Envy kicked his feet up onto the arm of the chair, attention straying to the clock on the mantel. Midnight. And restless.

He was frustrated. With the gossip spreading through the Seven Circles, with the twisted game, with each second that passed and his court grew more weakened.

He wanted to unfold his wings and catapult into the sky, leaving this hell behind. And that needled him too. The fact that he couldn’t. That he’d need to win to do so ever again.

Envy had to reserve as much power as he could. One thing the columnist had gotten correct: part of his circle was warded against anyone coming or going without his permission. And it took most of his magic to maintain that lock, leaving him weaker than he’d like to be.

He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the back of the chair, emptying his mind.

Then he thought of Sloth’s attempt to stoke his sin and bolted out of his chair, pacing the bedchamber like a caged wolf.

The reporter had said two players were in the Seven Circles.

One heading toward Bloodwood Forest. Perhaps he would get lucky and find a player; then he’d have one less worry to taunt him. Sleep wasn’t going to be happening, so he headed for his door, set on hunting down his competition.

He wrenched his bedroom door open, then halted.

There, sprawled on her stomach across the chaise in their common room, half dressed in shadows, wearing nothing but her soft-looking short stays and reading a book, was Camilla.

Check fucking mate.

Camilla had upended his game board with this move. He had to grudgingly admire it.

She’d lit and arranged several candles to strategically cast shadows along her body, composing the artistic scene with impressive precision, positioning herself in a way that gave her the appearance of being fully dressed, allowing a glimmer of the truth to flicker into focus whenever she moved.

Which she did now, legs bent above her and crossed at the ankles, slowly swinging back and forth like she hadn’t a care in the universe. She flipped the page of the book propped in front of her, completely undisturbed by Envy’s presence.

Corked bottles of oil sat on a tray on the low table next to her, the robe Sloth had sent for her folded neatly on the carpet near her feet.

Their conversation and his taunting words from earlier drifted back to him.

Take off your clothes, put on the robe. I’ll rub your back down with oils.

A smile ghosted across his lips. Clever, clever woman. Camilla was tempting Envy to massage her. She knew he wanted to see her bare flesh, to see whether any mark or spell or enchantment had been inked onto her skin.

And likely, she was thinking of his rule—by his own decree, they’d only ever have one night to make love.

And she lay there, almost entirely undressed, daring him to make his move.

Envy didn’t bother to stop his attention from following the artful lines of her body—from her shapely thighs and calves to the generous curve of her bottom—as she turned another page. Upon closer inspection, he saw that she’d removed her underwear but kept her thigh-high, lace-edged stockings on.

He admired the sight of her like he’d do with any great work of art. Camilla was the painting, the sculpture, the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen. Silver hair, golden skin, all draped in a tantalizingly dark mystery.

From where he stood in his doorway, he didn’t notice any immediate signs of ink. Though he wondered why she’d kept her stays and stockings on, whether it was a ploy to get him to undress her the rest of the way, torture him, or a means to hide the information he was seeking.

The ivory stays hit just above her ribs and dipped low enough to show the tops of her breasts. From the little he could see, they laced up the front, not pulled tight enough to restrict, but allowing her golden flesh to spill out the top.

Two tempting bows tied each strap, making for ease of removal.

She wanted to play. And he was always game.

Envy leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest. “I didn’t know you enjoyed reading.”

“I suppose it’s one more secret I’m keeping, Your Highness.”

Camilla didn’t bother to glance up, his second clue that she was toying with him.

Even knowing that he was playing into her scheme, Envy couldn’t stop himself from striding over. He knelt down, gently pressing the book back to read the cover.

“Of course.” He scoffed. “You’re looking for a Prince Charming.”

“Just because I occasionally enjoy romance novels doesn’t mean I’m looking for a prince. I find most royals to be tiresome, arrogant bores who don’t know the first thing about being charming.”

She gave him a pointed look, then tugged her book back and continued reading.

Arrogant, most certainly guilty as charged. But tiresome or boring…

Envy plucked up the bottle of oil, uncorked the stopper, and inhaled. Vanilla and bourbon. Sweet and sinful, just like their little game.

He contemplated his next move. Going to Bloodwood Forest wasn’t the most practical use of his time. The likelihood of finding another player wasn’t high, especially since they’d been seen heading there last night. If they had entered the forest, they’d be long gone by now.

He could waste time and energy he didn’t have running down that old lead. Or he could play this little game with Camilla, hopefully solving the riddle of her, and maybe even stoking her jealousy before the night was over—thus refueling his power.

If she had a magical tattoo inked onto her skin, he’d know she was Fae. If she didn’t, his theory of her being some kind of shape-shifter would be proven likely.

He stood and drizzled the oil over her back without warning, enjoying her slight hiss as the cool liquid dribbled across her skin.

Envy didn’t stop at her back. She was offering him an unobstructed view of her body, and he was going to tend to every inch of her, searching for answers to the questions he had.

Hopefully he’d succeed in solving one mystery tonight.

He poured a light line of massage oil over the round curve of her bottom, then set the oil aside. He slowly rolled down one stocking at a time, pulling them off to expose her bare flesh. He wound the stockings around his fist, considering tying her to the chaise with them, but tossed them aside. He wanted Camilla freely squirming tonight.

Envy grabbed the oil again and continued drizzling it down the backs of her thighs and all the way to the soles of her feet.

“What are you doing?” she asked, breathless.

Camilla was excited by the unexpected path he’d laid out.

“Showing you why Prince Charming isn’t what you truly desire.”

Envy gently gathered her loose hair, then swept it aside, giving himself access to her neck and shoulders. He rubbed the backs of his knuckles against the line of her stays, slipping a finger under the strap, tugging it gently.

“Is there a reason you left this on, Miss Antonius?”

She shot him a look over her shoulder, part irritation, part anticipation.

“If you wish to see me fully nude, Your Highness, I’m afraid you’ll need to dirty your hands.”

He smiled faintly at that.

“You ought to know one thing about me, Camilla darling.”

He reached around, gently pulling one side of the bow on her shoulder straps. He moved to the other side, unwrapping the next ribbon. Then he loosened the ties along the front, freeing her breasts as he removed the garment and tossed it aside.

“I like being filthy.”

Her breathing sped up, her arousal hitting him hard.

“I’d wager the mere thought of how dirty I can be arouses you.”

He took the book and set it aside, then guided her back down, pressing her firmly onto the chaise so he could stroke her shoulders, kneading each muscle until she slowly relaxed.

Envy rubbed the backs of her arms, followed each down to her wrists and hands, tending to every area with care. His attention was sharp on her, cataloguing any freckle, any hint of magic at play. By the time he’d worked his way down to her lower back and run a hand over her tight little bottom, he hadn’t found a single indication that she was glamoured.

He wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or even more skeptical.

Envy rubbed the oil into her legs, ending the massage with her feet, releasing any ache she might have felt from their long trek through the Sin Corridor.

She hadn’t complained once of the miles they’d traveled on foot.

He listened as she sighed contentedly, her body languid from his ministrations. Her desire, though—that had continued to build with each stroke.

It was time for him to up the stakes.

His hands lightly trailed along the backs of her calves before he flattened them against her thighs, rubbing larger circles across her uninked skin. He fought the urge to lean over, bite the plump flesh of her bottom before soothing away the sting with a kiss.

Still, the air around them felt thick, tense. Her breathing had all but stopped as she waited to see what he’d do, where he’d touch next.

Envy took his time, plotting, dreaming of all the divinely sinful ways he’d make her call out his name. Slowly, he drizzled oil into the palm of his hand, allowing it to warm slightly before sliding it down to his fingers.

He began rubbing it over her bottom, again and again, on each circle his hand dipping deeper between her legs, beginning to stroke that lovely place he wanted to bury himself inside.

“Well,” he purred softly as her hips lifted to meet his touch. “Looks like I was correct. You want it dirty too.”

She was drenched, her arousal almost as slick as the oil on his hand. He lazily traced the seam of her body, dipping the tip of his middle finger inside her. A harsh curse escaped her pretty lips, her face half hidden under her ethereal hair.

“You crave a demon, do you? One who fucks like a sinner because he is one.”

He withdrew his finger before she could push herself onto it, sliding it back across her body, spreading her wetness.

“I promise, sweet Camilla, you won’t be shouting for God when I’m buried inside you. I’ll be ruthless when I grace your sheets.”

His finger circled her clit, and he bit back his own groan. It was so swollen with desire she must ache. At the touch her hips bucked against his palm.

Envy finally slid one finger inside, giving her what she wanted. Camilla arched up and back, seeking more. His filthy little deviant wanted him to fill her. He plunged a second finger in, her soft moan making his cock rock-hard. She was so wet, so hungry for more.

Camilla propped herself on her forearms, her book long forgotten as she glanced back at him, watching as he continued to pleasure her.

“You’ll be shouting my name, Camilla. I will be your God, your Creator, your Destroyer, and every depraved dark thing in between. And I promise you’ll find religion on my cock. You’ll get on your knees for it, pray for it, worship it with every fiber of your being.”

He withdrew his fingers, then gave her clit a tiny little pinch, adding a twinge of pain to enhance her pleasure. Camilla moaned, the sound pure bliss. He thrust his fingers back inside her, pumping them, his own breath ragged as she quietly demanded he keep doing that to her.

“You won’t think of Prince Charming again. I promise you that.”

Envy lightly slapped her slick flesh, her body jerking toward him.

Camilla cursed softly, arousal glistening down her leg.

Envy played gently with her clit, one flick, another, before plunging his fingers deep inside her again. She began grinding against his hand.

The way her body responded to him was fucking glorious. He could watch her seek pleasure from him all night.

She clenched around him, slowly riding his fingers.

His free hand drifted down to his erection, stroking it gently over his trousers as he watched her. It would be easy to give in and give them both what they craved. He could pull her hips up until she was on all fours, bend her over the arm of the chaise, spread her wide, and end their mutual torment. But the lure of this particular game was even more potent than any fleeting physical satisfaction.

Camilla’s breath caught as she rolled her hips, seeking friction. He stroked himself harder, his balls tightening as his own pleasure increased. He imagined how good it would feel to slide his throbbing cock across her slickness.

But tonight wasn’t that night. Tonight was about her alone. He stopped touching himself and focused on her again. She was getting close.

He pumped a few more times, drawing out the sensation, listening as her breath turned ragged, then withdrew his fingers.

Camilla must have sensed the shift; she glanced back at him, back still arched, searching.

“You stopped.”

She didn’t ask why. But her frustration was written plainly across her face, as was her lust. Instantly, Camilla knew… He’d won this round.

Envy flashed her a grin, then bent forward and nipped playfully at her fleshy bottom, his tongue soothing over the mark, indulging his earlier fantasy.

He stood, straightened, and handed her the bottle of massage oil.

“Use this when you touch yourself later. It’ll be almost as good as when I make you come again.”

“What?” she asked, her tone incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”

He gave her a slow, wicked smile. “Sweet dreams, my filthy little darling.”

Envy returned to his bedroom and shut the door, chuckling softly as she called him every cursed name in the book.

THIRTY-SEVEN

“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.