Camilla wasn’t sure what had shifted. If he’d had any warmth for her before, it was long gone. His coldness, the hard set of his mouth, the unforgiving glint in his gemlike eyes—here stood the villain of lore. The Prince of Hell wicked enough to inspire parents to tell their children terrifying cautionary tales.
She had no idea what could possibly have happened in two short hours to turn him into this harsh beast.
She scanned him slowly, looking for any clue. There was no blood, no wrinkle in his hunter-green suit, no crack in his icy fa?ade or hair out of place. Yet she felt his dark energy roiling below the surface.
“What happened?” she asked quietly. “Did another player attack?”
“If we’re sharing information now,” he said, voice dangerously soft, “why don’t you start by telling me about your parentage? Or perhaps about your charm?”
Everything inside her stilled.
“What?”
“Most mortals cannot conjure reality with a few strokes of their brush, Miss Antonius.”
“Well, lucky for you, isn’t it, that I could.”
He took hold of her hand, whispered something in an ancient tongue, and in the very next breath Camilla suddenly stood on what felt like the edge of the universe.
The world of Hemlock Hall had vanished, replaced by something much darker, vaster, and colder.
Envy dropped her hand, stepped closer to her side, and murmured, “Welcome to the void outside the Seven Circles. This is the space that connects it to all other realms.” He smiled grimly. “And before you are the infamous gates of the Underworld.”
Camilla stared at the strange air around her, fear prickling her skin almost as much as the icy wind. Looking down, she was stunned to find herself clothed in a thick cloak, which had somehow magically appeared.
There was no sound at all, except for the prince’s voice.
And the thrashing of her pulse. Anger made her spin to face him, eyes flashing.
“Are you completely mad?”
“Not yet.”
Camilla had half a mind to leave him and strike out on her own. Except his clue had indicated that she needed to go to House Sloth too. Cursed game, and it’d only just begun. For her, at least.
“If you ever put your will above my own,” she said, her voice lowered but laced with the promise of vengeance, “you will regret it, Envy.”
“There are many things I regret, Miss Antonius, but taking you here isn’t one of them.”
He jerked his chin toward the gates.
“We have a long way to go before we settle for the night. I suggest moving.”
Camilla tamped down her annoyance. She had to focus on the game, and she supposed the menacing gates were the only way to Sloth’s court. Besides, she’d long had to tolerate brutish males. She could continue to do so, for now.
She turned to look at the strange cavelike chamber before her.
The gates Envy spoke of gleamed nightmarishly several paces in front of them, carved from bone and horn and fang. Creatures too wicked to live and too sinister to be forgotten, forever immortalized in a warning to all who passed through.
There was beauty in the Gothic feel of it, a dark beauty Camilla shouldn’t wish to paint. And now that her talent had been stolen, she couldn’t. Panic clawed at her as she tried to summon her talent, once again to no avail. Even with her magic bound, the shape of the arch called to her.
The shift from Waverly Green to this strange land was so abrupt, Camilla could scarcely wrap her mind around the truth of it even as the iciness seeped into her skin. The Prince of Envy had well and truly dragged her to the Underworld. No story ever could have prepared her for its majestic terror. Not even the darkest tales told by her father.
“We must pass through the Sin Corridor first,” Envy said, breaking the spell. “It will test you to see which sin you have the biggest affinity for. You may experience some… odd… feelings as each magic attempts to seduce you. Don’t worry, I’ll be watching over you with the utmost interest.”
“I’m sure you will,” she said icily. Ignoring his attempt to distract her, she considered what that actually meant. She’d be tested for each of the deadly sins.
Lust. Greed. Envy. Pride. Wrath. Gluttony. Sloth.
Seven ways for this realm to do its worst.
Camilla determined right there that she wouldn’t make it easy, on Envy or this forsaken place. Now that she was forewarned, she’d be waiting for the first indications of magic.
“Any questions, Miss Antonius?”
“What will happen in Waverly Green while we’re gone? I have a business, a life. I cannot simply cease to exist while you play your game.”
He arched a brow; she’d surprised him. Good.
“I’ll have my people craft a plausible story for our absence. And I’ll purchase some art in your gallery upon our return. Payment—”
“You will do no such thing. I do not need your charity.”
“It’s an exchange for the inconvenience, and time lost. You’re a wise businesswoman, surely you see the value in that. Any other questions?”
She saw the value in that, all right. She would find the most expensive pieces in her collection and tally them up. This might even guarantee she could pay her staff for the next two years.
Mollified, she considered what else she needed to know.
“How long will each test last?”
“That depends entirely on you. This realm thrives on sin—the way oxygen and water are the fabric of life in the mortal realms, vice is part of this realm’s being.” He paused. “We need to travel on foot until the Corridor has completed its test. Other magic is forbidden until you’ve experienced each sin and have been aligned with a House, so even if I wanted to, I could not simply bring us to House Sloth.”
“This realm needs to determine where I belong, even if I’m not staying? And you have no power over it?”
He assessed her before answering. “Vampires, Fae, shifters, and goddesses also dwell here, and while they do not normally choose to align with any demon House, the Sin Corridor will always be curious to see where you would do best. Think of it as a natural order, if you must. No matter how powerful a prince is, no matter that this is our domain, there are some laws of nature even we cannot break.”
He guided her forward, their steps silent, lost to the surreal depths of the void.
Before them, the walls around the gates were cavelike—stone panels soaring higher than she could ever hope to see unless she sprouted wings, the color a strange bluish black.
Opaque, like thick slabs of ice.
Envy placed a hand on her back, urging her forward, and had them through the gruesome gates within seconds.
She wondered whether he was only anxious to be on his way, or didn’t want her examining the gates too closely.
The moment they’d crossed the threshold, the gates closed behind them, trapping her in this strange new world of snow and ice.
Sounds returned, as ominous and wretched as she’d have imagined. Winds gusted, ice-coated branches clattered, and in the far distance she swore she heard snarls as of some great beasts.