His hair turned black and his eyes gleamed white.
“Is that what I did… ask you? Like a nice mortal friend. A loving, human father. Or did your king give you an order? One you would have refused had I not given you a reason not to?”
He advanced on her, his gaze steely and void of any pretense of civility.
“You mistake your place in my court, daughter. You were invited to come home. Twice. First with a friend I sent for you, in case you needed one of our kind. Next, I sent Wolf. In case you required a mate. You chose to stay in that mortal cesspool, lowering yourself. Pretending you were a human.”
Anger unleashed her tongue. “I didn’t choose to leave in the first place. Or have you forgotten your little game with Mother? You made me a changeling. Then you condemn me for choosing to stay where I’d been just another game piece. I never would have left the Wild Court.”
“The queen stole you,” Lennox snapped. “You should have proven your loyalty to our court when I summoned you the first time.”
“My loyalty? It seems like I am simply your little pawn, moving around your game board based on your whims.”
His smile was crafted of nightmares. He held the key up. “This is the Silverthorne Key, little pawn. Do you know what it does?”
Camilla felt as if she’d taken a hit. She slowly shook her head, an awful realization emerging. Puzzle pieces clicked into place. Pierre’s obsession with the portal key, with keeping it in Waverly Green. The locket her mother told her never to let go.
Silverthorne Lane. The dark market in Waverly Green. The place where Unseelie solitary and exiled Fae bargained with mortals.
Somehow, some way, the key and the dark market were connected. And if Camilla’s growing fear was correct, she had likely created a direct link from the mortal world to this court.
“No.”
Lennox’s gaze turned ebony again, his hair shifting back to its godlike silver-white curtain.
“I see you understand perfectly well. Silverthorne Lane is a realm line. This key? It unlocks that doorway and leads it straight to…”
He walked to a silver mirror leaning against the wall, oversized, wide. Large enough for even the tallest human to pass through.
“Here.”
Lennox stuck the key directly in the center of the mirror, the glass rippling like liquid as he twisted the hexed object. Camilla stared, trapped in her cage, as the mirror flickered. Shadow and light, light and shadow. Images played across it, too fast to see clearly; then came sounds. Birds, people, carriages… the sounds of Waverly Green’s bustling streets.
“No,” Camilla said, again, rattling her cage. The iron burned, the pain a wild ache in her bones. “Please. Leave them.”
Lennox glanced over his shoulder, his expression one of egregious delight.
“One by one, little pawn, I’ll lure everyone from that city here. We’re in need of fresh fun in the Wild Court. And once Waverly Green falls, we’ll move on to the next. Now be silent.”
He cocked his head, then ran a hand over his clothing, magicking a new suit before her eyes. If Camilla hadn’t known how dark and twisted he was, Lennox would have looked like a fairy-tale prince. Except this prince was a diabolical king and this cruel king wasn’t interested in stealing hearts at all—he wanted to break souls. Beaming with false kindness, he turned back to the mirror as the first few mortals stumbled through, bright-eyed and dreamy.
Widow Janelle, the Lords Harrington and Walters, and several other regulars from Vexley’s circle stepped into the throne room.
Camilla pressed her hand to her mouth, biting back a scream. She knew these humans. Had attended parties and gatherings with them.
And they did not deserve the fate that awaited them here.
Their gazes swept around the chamber, then paused on her, on her Fae ears.
Camilla looked at them and screamed, “Run!”
SIXTY-FOUR
THINGS HAD CHANGED inside the Wild Court since the last time Envy had attended a soirée there, more than a century before.
And not for the better.
Unseelie gatherings used to be sinful, delicious events. Where wine flowed freely, lovers paired off for a night of fun, and the king and queen ruled over all with dark glee. Art and passion were celebrated above all. When the moon was full, even better.
The entire Unseelie court had been crafted as an ode to the moon, the chambers all designed to mirror its shifting phases. Most of the castle roof was made of glass, allowing the moonlight to bathe everyone strolling along the floors below. All the furnishings were in silvers and midnight blues and plush black velvets. Little fairy orbs floated in the chambers and corridors, to make guests feel like they were walking among the stars.
It was ethereal, grand, otherworldly in a way that both seduced and relaxed. All the senses were fed by its beauty, and the wine… it was transportive. Addictive. The flavors rich and decadent and made to be savored. Spicy, sweet, sour, and robust.
Demonberry wine came close, but nothing tasted the way Faerie wine did. It found every fun, passionate part of a person and magnified it, giving them confidence to dance and sing and fuck and create whatever their innermost passions called for. As long as guests were consenting adults, the Wild Court became the individual’s fantasy.
Everyone wanted an invitation to the Wild Court back then. From Princes of Hell to witches and the normally stoic shifters. Lust even envied the dark Fae for their full-moon indulgences, honoring the heavens from which they drew their power.
That was not the Wild Court Envy saw now.
He walked into the Crescent Court, which had once been the most beautiful of all the chambers. Now it was dark, and not just because the ceiling had been painted black. Torches burned around the room, the fire heavily licking the air.
High above, guests had been penned in cages, like cattle awaiting slaughter. Horned Fae took turns taunting them, setting pokers into a nearby fire until the metal glowed crimson, then screamed along with the humans, whose flesh sizzled and scarred.
The sickly-sweet scent of burnt flesh wafted through the castle, the smoke prickling Envy’s eyes. That wasn’t the worst of the horrors or depravity on display.
Humans already chosen from their pens were tied to tables, their meat being carved from their bones while they still lived. Even for a Prince of Hell, it was horrific. Then Envy stopped short, recognizing Lord Harrington.
He was screaming as they peeled his flesh away strip by strip.
Bile seared up Envy’s throat, burning as much as the rage he choked back down.
Lennox had been a mischievous king, rejoicing in his wickedness, but this was beyond depraved. Beyond cruel.
Wolf sidled up to Envy, a dark cocktail lightly smoking in one hand.
Envy would pay a serious amount of coin to send the damn male on his way.