Twenty-Nine
TWENTY-NINE
A FTER YOU, M ISS Antonius.”
Envy held the giant spruce branch back, fully revealing the tiny cottage he’d hidden beneath the giant evergreen the last time he’d brought a mortal woman into his realm.
He didn’t like to think of that, of her, so he focused instead on his handiwork—though cottage was a generous term for the little cabin he’d made by hacking away at trees, fusing them together with bits of magic.
Nothing too intense, nothing that would anger the Corridor.
If he’d been able to conjure the building entirely, he would have done so.
Alas, he’d rolled up his sleeves and had gotten to work.
Envy supposed he still felt some small sense of accomplishment.
Camilla seemed startled at first, but now looked the structure over with interest, just as she’d done with every inch of the Sin Corridor today. He hadn’t known this blasted place to inspire such amazement or intrigue before; Camilla had surprised him with her enthusiasm for its arctic depths.
And even more surprising, thus far she’d seemed to avoid most influence, furthering his growing suspicion that she was keeping a secret.
But Envy knew that when sleep eventually pulled her under, Camilla would succumb to the wicked realm.
No being—not even the strongest vampires, shape-shifters, or Fae—could withstand the seductive pull of the Sin Corridor.
And that was without the physical attraction already sizzling between them.
He’d kept his connection to her senses open, ensuring that he’d know if she felt distressed or fearful at any point along their journey. If something attacked, he wanted to know immediately.
When they first arrived, she’d been burning with anger that he’d brought her without warning. What he’d neglected to admit was that he’d waited until he sensed her readiness, long before she’d formally given him an answer.
The true surprise came as she trudged through the storm behind him.
He’d felt a tingle of fear that had quickly turned to excitement.
When her arousal slammed into him next, he’d nearly lost his footing.
He’d glanced over his shoulder, and her gaze had raked over him from head to toe, carnal and untamed.
He’d strained to feel any indication that she was being tested for lust, but he didn’t think so.
What she’d felt had been her own emotions.
He wasn’t sure she’d been aware of it. But he couldn’t forget.
And now they were about to be trapped for hours, alone in the cabin with one large issue.
Envy reached past her and yanked the frozen knob until it twisted free, the small door popping open with a loud crack as its coat of ice shattered. The shards sparkled atop the snow like broken glass.
Camilla gave him a look, then stepped inside. Just past the doorway, she paused.
He knew why.
They were going to be very cozy tonight.
The tiny one-room cabin was dark and windowless, the square space taken up almost entirely by one large bed. And by bed Envy meant the thick layers of pine boughs he’d braided into a lush platform.
The “bed” was pressed against the far wall, leaving only a small path for him to open the door fully.
The air was stale but laced with the warmth of the pine. They’d be warm and safe from the elements. Hours had passed, and even if she wasn’t tired yet, Camilla needed to sleep before the worst of the storm hit.
Envy gently nudged her forward.
She dug her heels in.
“There’s barely enough room for the bed.”
What she avoided mentioning was the fact that they’d practically have to lie curled around each other to fit upon it. A fact he’d been partly dreading, partly anticipating.
It was going to be his own sort of personal hell to have Camilla pressed against him while experiencing the sensation of sins.
“Apologies for the less-than-stellar accommodations, Your Highness,” he mocked softly. “Next time we travel through the Corridor, I’ll make sure to add another wing to the cabin.”
She called him a gloriously filthy name under her breath but let him step past her, swirling his cloak from his shoulders and spreading it over the bed of boughs, like a sheet of sorts.
He gestured that Camilla could lie down, which she did with a glare, crawling onto the mattress and testing its stability before moving to the far side.
Envy closed the door behind him, making sure it caught firmly in its frame, and then climbed atop the mattress at her side.
Her warmth enveloped him almost instantly, her scent filling the space between them until all he could think of was how much he envied her perfume for touching her skin when he couldn’t.
“Will we travel directly to House Sloth?” she asked. “Once we’re… done here?”
“Yes,” he said. “We’ll travel a bit farther to please the Corridor, then I’ll transvenio us to my brother’s circle as soon as I can. We should arrive by midmorning.”
“Transvenio,” she repeated quietly. “According to my father’s stories, that’s how demon princes travel between realms. Like shifting from one reality to the next. Which is how we arrived at the gates earlier. Correct?”
“Indeed.”
“Won’t we see your court first?”
He swallowed tightly. “There’s no time for a visit.”
He supposed he should send a missive to Sloth first before showing up unannounced, but to do so he’d need to stop at his House and await the royal admittance to the rival court, which meant Camilla would see the crumbling kingdom firsthand.
Even if he brought her to his royal cottage on the outskirts of his grounds, too much could go wrong.
Sloth would likely take his time responding, and that was the one thing Envy could not risk now: wasting any more time.
He allowed himself a brief fantasy of a different story unfolding. Of his House being robust, filled with life and art, and demons who collected all manner of objects and items to inspire his sin in their circle mates.
Envy wanted to see Camilla’s gaze sweep over everything when it was as glimmering and wondrous as it used to be. He wanted to know if she’d like his House, his galleries, his curiosities. His bedchamber.
And that was dangerous.
He shouldn’t want any of it.
She was quiet for a few moments.
“You said you’re playing a game… that’s what all of this is for. What’s at stake?”
Everything, he thought. “An artifact I covet,” he finally said. It was true enough.
“You’re doing all this for an artifact?” she asked. “It must be very important.”
He stared at the wooden ceiling, his jaw tight. They were getting too close to discussing his greatest mistake, especially here, where he’d once brought her.
Camilla rolled over to face him, but he didn’t look back at her. He couldn’t.
“Take off your cloak,” he said instead. When he sensed her surprise, he finally looked over and gestured at their exposed bodies. “We’ll use it as a blanket.”
Camilla gave him a long, silent once-over, but she did as he asked, and he helped her to wrap the edges of the garment around them. As a final act of chivalry, he pulled off his waistcoat, bundling it up to form a pillow he placed under her head.
As she settled back, even more snugly situated against his side, Envy decided to count backward from one thousand, focusing on his end goal.
He hated Lennox and his royal Unseelie Fae. Hated them beyond anything he’d hated before. He would not only see his court restored but would see Lennox’s Unseelie court obliterated in return. He’d toy with them all as Lennox had with him.
“Envy?” Camilla whispered, breaking his focus. He felt her stir under the cloak, and then a warmed finger emerged, which she reached over to run along his jaw.
He’d been gnashing his teeth.
He forced himself to relax.
“How many other players do you think there are? In this game?” she asked, removing her hand.
“Depends on how many others the game master has wronged. Could be five, or twenty. Or just down to two or three, by now.”
“What happens to the players who don’t solve their clues?”
“Their fate is decided by the game master. He can choose to let them leave peacefully, or he can kill them. Their lives are his from the moment they sign the blood oath.”
Camilla’s breath hitched. He finally dropped his attention to her. She was biting her lip, her expression pinched. He wanted to smooth the line between her brows but didn’t. No good would come from such tenderness.
“What if they don’t sign a blood oath? At the start?”
She looked worried, but he wasn’t sure why.
“As far as I know, everyone who plays has signed the oath. It’s what allows the game master to enforce the rules.”
“What do you think we’re looking for next?” she asked, rolling back over to look up at the ceiling now. “The riddle didn’t give us a real clue.”
He liked that she considered them a team.
Too much.
“My brother is quite the collector, and House Sloth is filled with books and artifacts. I imagine we’ll find the next clue in one of his libraries. We’ll just have to look for something that doesn’t belong.”
She rolled over to face him again, her expression wary.
“And this game master… I’ve heard the Fae play games. The Unseelie King in particular.”
Clever woman.
He debated indulging her again but couldn’t see the harm in admitting she was correct.
“They do. Lennox, the Unseelie King, is the game master.”
Camilla grew silent. He wondered what stories she’d heard of the Unseelie King. Wondered if she knew just how dangerous he was when he wanted something.
Envy suddenly did not want her getting tangled up in all that. “Sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
Camilla had spun over to lie on her other side, and now she went still. He’d tried to respect her boundaries, ignoring his eagerness to spy on her feelings in this close space, but he couldn’t help himself—he opened that channel between them again, and clearly detected her irritation.