Wolf cocked his head, eyes narrowing.
“Do you think that now that she’s unbound she’ll fuck more ferociously?” He whistled. “Two Unseelies going at it… you cannot begin to imagine the intensity. Passion feeds in a mirroring loop. I cannot wait for her pretty mouth to be filled with my come again.”
Wolf was goading him. Envy knew it. And he didn’t give a shit.
Envy took a step toward the Unseelie, allowing every dark thing that made him a Prince of Hell to roll off him.
“Camilla belongs with me.”
Wolf smiled.
“Then I suggest you pull your head out of your ass and go after her. Lennox will send for her soon. If I were you, I’d come up with a plan before then. The king is not kind to mortals—and Camilla is far more human in behavior than Fae.”
All amusement vanished from Wolf’s face.
“And my original message stands, demon. Hurt her, and I’ll make you regret it.” He stepped back into the hallway. “Now come, Your Highness. I’ll take you to her.”
Indecision warred inside Envy.
He didn’t want anything to happen to Camilla, but he wasn’t ready to see her. Envy had never been someone’s hero. Didn’t know how to be.
Wolf looked him over, a sneer forming on his face.
“You don’t deserve her.”
“Never said I did.”
Wolf was silent a moment, then said, “I might have forgotten to mention… Lennox has summoned you. He expects you in court in exactly thirty minutes.”
Without looking back, the Unseelie walked away, shaking his head.
SIXTY-THREE
CAMILLA STARED AT her reflection in the mirror, at once foreign and familiar.
Her face was mostly unchanged. If anything, her eyes were a bit more metallic, the silver polished to a gleam. Her hair shimmered with a brightness it hadn’t had before, like moonlight on a cold winter’s night.
Her ears… there was no denying what she was, no hiding. Any notion she might have harbored about returning to Waverly Green was gone now.
Not that she wanted to return anymore. After experiencing the Seven Circles and even the terrors of Malice Isle, Camilla had seen the breadth of the world. The idea of returning to Waverly Green without her family, without… anyone… no longer appealed.
But she wanted Bunny. Needed to go back and retrieve her sweet cat. Say a proper goodbye to Kitty, too.
She touched the soft tips of her elongated ears, now foreign to her.
The choice to be glamoured hadn’t been Camilla’s.
Not much in her life had been, in fact. She was a child when everything familiar was suddenly wrenched away. Her home, her family, her realm. One night she was a high princess of the Wild Court, the next she was a mortal child without magic in Waverly Green.
Her mother, Prim Róis Fleur, had kidnapped her from the Wild Court for reasons she would probably never fully understand. Ever since, Lennox had been trying to tempt her back. Wanting her to take her throne. To Camilla, it had been one of the worst games her parents had ever played.
But one piece still didn’t fit: Why had Prim Róis stolen the locket, and then left it with Camilla? And why had Lennox gone through so much to get it back?
More puzzles, more riddles, more deception. Such was the way of her family.
Not all had been a lie, though. Her mother had become fond of Pierre. Had even used her true middle name, offering him some honesty.
It hadn’t taken much magic for her mother to convince Pierre that the young child had been his—she’d given him false memories, of her being pregnant, of the first few years of Camilla’s life. Of him teaching Camilla how to hold a paintbrush nimbly between her fingers.
All lies, pretty little magical glamours.
But Camilla had truly loved him. Staying in Waverly Green, running Pierre’s gallery—that had finally been Camilla’s choice. With her human father, Camilla had learned how powerful love was. How fear could never hope to compete.
Camilla wondered, though, if her mortal father had known. If there had been a piece of him that could see through Prim Róis and her Fae magic. She feared that that was what ultimately drove him to his obsession and madness.
But perhaps it was also what led Pierre to fill her head with fairy tales. He’d been the one to warn her of the Fae and their bargains. He’d taught her about the vampire prince. And the seven ruling Princes of Hell.
Camilla did not believe in coincidences.
Her fingers brushed the soft curve of her ears again.
Would her mortal father hate this form?
No. He’d love her anyway. Pierre’s love was unconditional, without games or strings.
She dropped her hands into her lap.
Envy was not Pierre. He would not care for her now that her truth was revealed.
“Princess?” Wolf called from outside her door. “You indecent?”
His tone held a note of teasing, and maybe a little hope. He would wait for her.
He’d told her as much when he’d walked her to her bedroom suite. And that ought to comfort her, knowing she wouldn’t be alone. Envy was only ever going to be hers for one night. That was truer now than it had been before her deception was revealed.
“Princess? You’re making me think thoughts that are downright filthy.”
Camilla finally managed a smile, the first since she’d arrived here.
“Come in.”
He slipped into her chambers and gave her an appreciative once-over. “Bold.”
“I tried.”
She knew he didn’t mean the cut of the gown, which plunged to form a deep V to her navel in both the front and the back.
Camilla had chosen the deepest shade of green in the wardrobe she’d found in her suite. It might not matter, but even if Envy wasn’t there to see it, she wanted the Wild Court to know it hadn’t all been a lie.
Her father, however, would not be pleased.
She assumed he’d hate the emerald-and-diamond ring she’d strung on a necklace, to rest over her heart, even more.
Wolf’s gaze paused on the emerald. “He’s an ass.”
“He’s hurt,” Camilla said. “I should have told him who I was.”
Wolf snorted. “I’m sure he was nothing but honest with you.”
“I’m not responsible for anyone’s actions but my own.” Camilla exhaled. “My human father taught me better. I was afraid. I let fear of losing my talent forever rule my actions first. Then as I grew… closer to Envy, I feared how he’d react to my truth. He hates Unseelie royals.”
“I repeat, he’s an ass.”
“I imagine you aren’t here to discuss my love life,” she said, smiling weakly. “Has the king summoned me?”
Wolf nodded slowly, his gaze drifting around her private suite. Windows took up three of the four walls, and the ceiling was also made of glass, allowing the moonlight to cascade in like a silver waterfall.
When his attention came back to her, he seemed uncertain.
“Play your father’s game, Camilla. Or things will go very badly tonight.”
She’d already played enough of Lennox’s games, but she nodded to keep from speaking the lie aloud.
Wolf looked her over, a frown tugging at his lips, then escorted her to court.