His mortal had gone to the Wild Court of her own free will. What had happened was tragic, but he was not to blame.
“Once.” Camilla gave him the truth, knowing he’d sense a lie. Knowing, too, she wanted to offer an olive branch. “A long time ago.”
His gaze traveled to her lips.
“Was he the male in your memory?”
“Yes.”
“How long.” His voice held no trace of anger. It wasn’t a question, either. “A year? A decade?”
Camilla’s throat tightened. He was asking so much more than he appeared to be.
“Two mortal years.”
There was a flicker of understanding in his face. Perhaps relief. Even if he didn’t know what she was, it was an admission that Camilla wasn’t human.
Moonlight streamed in from high-set windows, pooling around them. For the first time, Camilla noticed how the light bathed him in silver, giving him a celestial glow; a star fallen to grace mortals with its splendor. As if he needed any heavenly assistance to make him more alluring. Looking at him now, Camilla wondered how she’d ever believed he was human.
“Is that why you wear the locket?” he asked. “A charm to ward him off? Or is it an enchantment to hide your true nature?”
“Did you love her?”
Camilla didn’t clarify who she meant, and he didn’t ask. They both knew she was asking about the mortal, not the goddess.
He’d gone still again; this time a storm was quietly brewing behind his gaze as it turned inward.
“Infatuation. Intrigue. Deep admiration. But never love.”
He bared his teeth, like he expected her to think him monstrous for that admission of truth and played the role to own it. Masks upon masks.
Deception would be their undoing.
When she didn’t react, he filled the silence.
“I brought her to the Wild Court. Introduced her to her death. Made a selfish mistake that has impacted my entire court. That responsibility weighs.”
And then she’d wager his one-night rule was born.
Camilla knew what it was like to make a single mistake that continued to ravage. Some mistakes grew fangs and claws, always hungry for more wickedness, more regret. She wanted to ask what he’d done but sensed that was a door he’d keep firmly closed for now. She’d just walked the halls of his House, knew his mistake had grown more than proverbial fangs.
“Your turn,” he said. “Tell me about the locket.”
She expelled a breath.
“It was a gift from my mother. It wards against Unseelie males.”
It did more, but that was all she’d reveal now.
His gaze sharpened on her admission, the wheels of his mind spinning. She saw the exact moment he’d added all his clues together. “You’re Seelie. How old are you truthfully?”
Far older than twenty-eight human years. “We left Faerie when I was six.”
Envy blinked, calculating. Time in Faerie was much different. But Fae children aged slowly there even by those standards. She’d been born more than a century before.
Camilla hadn’t truly started to age until she’d left her realm and come to Waverly Green, where human time had quickly ushered her to full adulthood.
It was one of the many reasons she’d refused to marry. Camilla wouldn’t age another day in her life, would have to leave Waverly Green eventually, before anyone grew suspicious. She wondered sometimes if that had been one of the reasons her mother had left.
“Were you going to bed the goddess?” she countered.
He considered her question.
“That was the plan, if it came down to it.”
This time Camilla did flinch. Truth was more hurtful than a blade. But he’d given it to her as she’d done for him, and for that she was grateful.
Envy moved in, like a shark scenting blood in the water.
“You see, Miss Antonius, the truth is, I’ve fucked for less. I’ve fucked for more.” He nodded to the doors, the moonlight shifting into shadow on his face. “I would sooner stick my blade in that goddess than my cock. But if that was her price, I was willing to pay it.”
He was no better than a scorpion, striking out when cornered.
Camilla drew herself up, unwilling to become anyone’s pincushion. Being hurt and regretful was one thing, being an ass and lashing out was another.
“By all means. Go after her. I’m only here because I deciphered the last clue—the ‘dearly twin’ is a carved pillar, not a person. That is why I sought Wolf out. All for your stupid game. Though he did offer to make me his mate. Perhaps I’ll allow him the chance to convince me. He was quite talented with his tongue.”
Envy looked stricken, but then realization dawned. “The Twin Pillars of Faerie.”
“Perhaps you ought to take your goddess there. Stab or fuck to your heart’s content, Your Highness. Maybe a blood sacrifice unlocks your next riddle.”
A beat later, his eyes narrowed. Like he’d just deciphered what else she’d said.
“He wanted what?”
“Oh, please,” she said. “As if you truly mind.”
“Swans mate for life. I’ve heard the Fae are similar. Do you really think I don’t care if another male mates with you? Do you know what other creatures mate for life?”
Camilla almost drew up short. Wolves. The very creatures Envy had chosen to symbolize his House of Sin. It was just one more twist in their game. And she’d had enough.
“You only want one night. Am I supposed to simply swear off all other lovers for eternity? I assure you I’ll carry on living my life long after you and your magical erection are gone from it.”
Camilla turned, furious. He could keep his damn wall up for eternity. When—and if—he ever grew up, he could seek her then.
“A curious thing happened.” Envy didn’t chase her, but something in his tone made her pause. “My cock—diligent soldier that it normally is—refused to cooperate with Vittoria.”
Of all the asinine things to say…
“Is that supposed to console me?” Camilla spun. It seemed his cock had more sense than his brain. “Perhaps you ought to speak to a royal physician, Your Highness. I’m sure there are herbs for that problem.”
He advanced on her then. For every step he took forward, she matched it stepping back, until she found herself pressed against a column and could go no farther.
Her heart pounded, a tiny thrill racing down her spine as he closed in.
The smooth stone cooled her flushed skin through her clothing. Her whole body suddenly warmed, her senses heightened. Her breasts chafed against the fabric of her gown, aching to be freed, yearning for the cool air to kiss her flesh.
Damn it all. She couldn’t possibly be aroused.
Envy pressed one hand to the stone next to her, the other snaking around her waist, holding her firmly against him. The scent of bourbon and berries mixed with something unmistakably masculine surrounded her, intoxicatingly dark and sinful—just like him.
Camilla could get drunk on that scent alone.
His hips ground against her. The hard ridge of him sliding against that most sensitive area, even through their clothes, stole her breath.
“Does it feel like I have a problem, Miss Antonius?”