“Where would the fun be in that?”
Camilla didn’t comment. She hadn’t expected him to help her, so his rejection was unsurprising.
He rose from the chair, a dark omen in the flesh, and motioned for her to follow.
“It seems you’ve made your choice, then. Move. We’re going to be late for dinner.”
Camilla glanced down at her silken gown again, at all the tempting skin it left on display. Blade had made it clear he didn’t view her as anything other than food, but other vampires wouldn’t feel the same.
“I sincerely hope I’m not the entrée this evening.”
She wasn’t trying to be funny, but Blade’s fathomless gaze suddenly twinkled with amusement.
“That all depends. Try to keep your wits about you and you’ll probably be fine.”
FORTY
ENVY STRODE THROUGH Bloodwood Forest toward his House of Sin, the Immortal Heart burning a hole in his pocket. Zarus had taken what was Envy’s. Right out from under him.
Literally.
He carved his way through the dense wood and underbrush, the unnatural bark gleaming like bloody fingers in the moonlight. Fog wound its way around the base of the crimson trees, dense enough to obscure the ground and any nasty trap that might be set.
Envy didn’t slow his stride. He barely glanced at his surroundings at all.
Between the escalating tension of the memory game he and Camilla had played and the abduction, he’d turned into a primal, territorial creature driven by instincts to take back and protect what was his. There’d been no cunning prince. Only snarling demon.
Envy supposed it was a result of feeling too much of his sin after so carefully doling it out over the last few years. He’d been distracted. He’d almost forgotten who he was, what was at stake, and nearly raced off to the vampire court without a plan.
But exploding into the vampire court would have been a terrible move.
His envy eventually cooled to that dangerous place he sought deep inside, clearing his mind until each piece of the last few hours had come together at last.
There are many riddles, many games, many players. If an ice prince falls, will a crimson one rise? I suppose that depends on who does the slaying. Blood must spill.
The Fear Collector’s message was meant to be misleading, but Envy understood which part had been the real riddle when Camilla said that foul name.
It had clicked into place at once: The vampire prince must die. And a crimson-eyed heir must take his place.
“Gods’ bones.” Would this game never end? Lennox clearly had a deeper goal than even Envy had imagined, using his players to move much larger pieces around the Underworld on his behalf.
Unless having the vampire prince die was only about causing chaos—Lennox thrived on chaos, created it as often as he could. The Fae and their eons of life found it broke up the monotony of immortality.
Envy already knew that Wrath and his brothers would not be pleased with what he’d have to do next. It would be too risky, cause too much upheaval. But Envy had no choice.
Camilla was gone and Lennox would have his chaos one way or another. Envy’s court’s falling would also cause upheaval in their realm. And he vowed to protect his demons at any cost.
He’d made no such vow to the vampire court. So he’d orchestrate a regicide. Even if it furthered the Unseelie King’s plot.
Pulling it off wouldn’t be easy. Envy would need to somehow convince the only red-eyed royal he knew of to murder his crown prince in cold blood.
It would unveil Blade’s secret. One he’d kept hidden from the rest of his court for two centuries. Until he’d been sired, there had never been another crimson-eyed royal.
At least not to Envy’s knowledge.
Envy would need Alexei to deliver the message. It would be the only way to ensure that Blade took the request seriously and didn’t tell Envy to go fuck himself.
He’d send Alexei immediately, then he’d—
A giant silver tree with gnarled wood and ebony leaves with silver veins drew him up short. The Curse Tree.
Envy’s mind spun to a painting he had in his collection—and the silver plaque he’d had made to explain the fable surrounding this magical tree. He’d read it so many times over the years, he’d memorized the damn thing.
CURSE TREE FABLE
DEEP IN THE HEART OF BLOODWOOD FOREST LIES A TREE PLANTED BY THE CRONE HERSELF. IT IS SAID, AMONG OTHER FAVORS, THE TREE WILL CONSIDER HEXING A SWORN ENEMY IF THE DESIRE TO CURSE THEM IS TRUE.
TO REQUEST THE CRONE’S CURSE: CARVE THEIR TRUE NAME IN THE TREE, WRITE YOUR WISH ON A LEAF PLUCKED FROM ITS BRANCHES, THEN OFFER THE TREE A DROP OF BLOOD. TAKE THE LEAF HOME AND PLACE IT BENEATH YOUR PILLOW. IF IT IS GONE WHEN YOU ARISE, THE CRONE ACCEPTED YOUR OFFER AND HAS GRANTED YOUR WISH. SHE IS THE MOTHER OF THE UNDERWORLD—BEWARE OF HER BLESSING.
Envy’s skin prickled. He drifted closer to the tree, picking his way over the rotted roots littering the ground, making forward movement trickier. The roots looked like broken bones jutting up from the earth in a failed attempt to free themselves from this cursed forest.
Mist slithered around his boots, wrapped around his legs. Whether drawing him closer to the tree or trying to push him away, it didn’t matter. He could have sworn he’d seen something carved into it that made his pulse quicken.
He crunched over brittle leaves that had fallen, pausing at the wide trunk, then swore.
LEVIAETHAN
Not many guessed the correct spelling of Envy’s true name; it was one of the most highly guarded secrets a demon prince could keep. The princes were always known by the sin they ruled over, keeping their true name from anyone who’d attempt to bind them.
That his name was carved into the Curse Tree was highly troubling.
He scanned the area, noticing fresh sawdust blanketing the frost-kissed leaves near the carving. Whoever had carved his true name had done so recently. Probably within minutes.
He thought of the gossip column, of the rumored player who was seen heading to this very forest. There were no coincidences while the game was underway.
He pulled his House dagger from its sheath, canting his head to listen. Bugs chirped and buzzed, the sound drowning out any footsteps.
But the player was close. Envy sensed it now. Swore he felt the air holding its breath along with whoever dared to curse him. As if he weren’t already cursed enough.
He circled the wide tree trunk, listening. Watching.
The fog and mist played with his senses, like smoke and mirrors, causing shadows to flicker around his peripheral vision. The player was using it to their advantage.
Or so they foolishly thought.
Envy was the predator in these woods. And he enjoyed a good hunt every now and then.
He moved like a shadow, senses reaching out.
There.
Crouched behind an evergreen bush.
The coward ducked his head to his knees, keeping his face turned away.
Envy raised his blade, his intent clear.
A twig snapped behind him.
Envy stiffened.
“Don’t touch him.”
The voice was familiar, and unwelcome.
The Goddess of Death had arrived.