“Send my regards to your king.”
Synton’s arm lashed out, and it shrieked, its many voices screaming in unison as a gleaming blade pierced through the shadow-like creature with ease.
Faster than it had begun, the fire, the embers, the wind, and the throne itself winked out of existence. In fact, the very painting she’d created had turned to a pile of ash. The only thing that remained was the emerald-tipped crown sitting atop Lord Synton’s head.
The throne had called him the Prince of Envy.
A charge he hadn’t denied.
Camilla watched as he finally shifted to meet her accusing stare, his expression cold, without an ounce of remorse. His gaze was fathomless, unflinching. Inhuman.
It all made sense, suddenly.
There was an ancient loneliness in his eyes because he was no mortal, brokenhearted man. Lord only knew how old he was. How many lives he’d lived, how many loves he’d lost.
If he was even capable of such an emotion. Maybe he’d simply shown her what she wanted to see, manipulated her to the full extent of his power.
Prince of Envy.
Now that the initial shock had passed, Camilla could think more clearly.
Most in Waverly Green believed the tales of the seven demon princes to be fiction, but she should have known better. She was well aware that it was unwise to write something off simply because you’d never seen it.
Many strange things were often found hiding in plain sight. The world was a vast, curious place filled with curious creatures. People rarely showed their true selves. But in all the stories she’d heard, demons couldn’t lie.
She laughed then at the irony, the sound anything but amused.
“Lord Synton. Clever. You must have had a good laugh at all our expenses.” Her tone hardened along with her expression. “You claimed you and Vexley were nothing alike, but here you are, nothing but a ruthless liar. And a miserable demon.”
His hand fisted at his side, his gaze darkening.
A spark of temper ignited in his eyes now, burning away the iciness.
One thing had been true in his charade, at least—he did not appreciate being likened to Vexley.
“Not so miserable when I’m in your bed, Miss Antonius.” His gaze mocked now. “You got a small taste of my powers.”
Despite her anger, heat lanced through her. No wonder he’d pushed her so thoroughly out of her mind—he was a prince who literally ruled over sin. No human in this whole world could compete with his skill in debauchery; since the stories were apparently true, the princes had practically invented the term. He had owned her with his tongue, and like every other fool who ended up in his sheets, she’d willingly sold her soul for that taste.
He smiled then, a quick brutal flash of teeth.
“I sense your arousal, Miss Antonius. Even knowing what I am, even hating that I lied, you want me.”
Attraction or not, it would be a cold day in hell before she invited him into her bedchamber now.
Another thought hit Camilla.
“Which brother did I meet?” she demanded.
At the ball, Syn had said there were seven brothers total. Truth as far as she knew. Probably the only bit of truth she’d been granted this whole time.
The Prince of Envy narrowed his eyes.
That look was definitely the sin he ruled over rearing its head. Good. Now she knew one of his weaknesses.
“Lust.”
That certainly explained things.
“Which brother is Alexei?”
“He’s my second-in-command.” Envy’s gaze glittered, dark and ominous. “Think twice before you threaten to bite him again, pet. Alexei is a vampire, and I promise he’ll bite back much harder. Although his venom can give you untold pleasure. You’d come as you died and beg for more with your last breath.”
Camilla knew he was trying to shock her, but most fiction spoke of vampires and their dangerous seduction, so the fact that Alexei’s venom could create orgasms to die for was hardly the most inconceivable part of her evening.
Which was rather remarkable.
“Since our bargain is now complete, I highly doubt I’ll encounter your pet vampire again, Your Highness.” Camilla drew herself to her full height, wishing she weren’t still wearing the damn painter’s apron. But at least using his true title seemed to rankle the prince.
God save her. The Prince of Envy. A fairy-tale villain sprung to life, and he’d had her convinced she’d experienced heaven in his devilish arms the night before.
With nothing left to say to the lying scoundrel before her, Camilla headed toward the door, but paused with a sinking heart. She couldn’t leave. To win her talent back, she needed to play the game. The throne was very clear on that. She wished she could claim she had no idea what the throne had meant, but she did. She subtly tried to summon her talent… to no avail.
Camilla took a deep breath. She knew very little of how the games worked, but she’d heard legends of their deadly stakes before, and of the sneaky game master himself. Losing her talent, her ability to paint, was the one thing he’d known she’d never endure, the one move he could make that guaranteed she’d play.
And if she was joining a current game, then odds were that was what Synton—Envy—damn it, whoever he was, had been up to all along. She felt her anger rising, but she reminded herself that if all this was true, then she needed Envy. At least until she figured out what she had to do next. Or she found another player to…
She closed her eyes. Of course. Lord Garrey. Recalling how Synton had helped him meet his end, she wasn’t sure it would be a good idea to let the demon prince know he had a new competitor—her.
And it’d be an even worse idea to let him find out she’d kept her own secret all along too. For now, she’d not reveal anything about her stolen talent, either. He’d become suspicious.
What was one more secret, anyway?
When she opened her eyes again, Envy was standing directly before her, looking dangerous.
“Do you know what the throne said?”
“A bunch of gibberish.” She tried to say it calmly, but her heart pounded so hard she worried he’d hear it.
“Hush! Those goose, lose no text.”
“You are proving my point beautifully, Your Highness,” she managed.
“It was a clue.” Envy looked briefly offended. “An anagram. Hush! Those goose, lose no text. Deciphered it says, House Sloth next. She goes too.”
Camilla’s mouth snapped shut.
The prince didn’t miss a beat. His smile was victorious.
She kept her face blank. Her game and his were truly intertwined.
“So you see, my darling,” he continued, “you have unwittingly become a part of the game I’m playing. A game I have spent many years waiting to win.”
He had no idea how correct he was about that.
With his free hand, he made to reach for her, then dropped it before making contact, a serious look overtaking his face.
“I might have lied to you about my name and title, but you have to understand, I will use any means necessary to win.” Then he gave her a wolfish smile. “And I love being a sinner too much to ever be a saint.”