Throne of the Fallen

Envy didn’t miss the fact that he’d referenced the gossip column. Wolf had likely come to see if the rumors about House Envy were true, testing the ward’s boundaries. They were true, of course, but the ward Envy had placed was smaller than most would guess, surrounding only his House.

“You have a message from Lennox?” Envy asked.

The Fae drew closer, suddenly curious about Camilla. Too curious.

Envy’s dagger was in hand, the blade still faintly glowing from its recent offerings.

The Unseelie noticed it and stepped back, smiling as if amused.

“Rumors, as I said.” Wolf’s grin spread. “Lovely little shocking rumors.”

He was still looking at Camilla, fixated in a way that wouldn’t end well.

Envy stepped forward, dripping menace.

“My patience wanes.”

“I have no message from the king,” Wolf said. “I was simply curious whether the rumors were true. I see that they are. Delightfully so.”

“If you were curious about the new vampire prince, why come here?”

“Those two are unrelated.” The Fae flashed another smile, this one as wolfish as his name. “I’ll be seeing you, fair winter lady. Shifting seasons are always so beautiful.”

Before Envy could run him through with his blade, the Unseelie was gone, shifting from one reality to another.

Envy glanced back at Camilla, his sin threatening to emerge. For a moment, she looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Have you met him before?” Envy asked, suspicious.

Her gaze darted to where the Fae had disappeared.

“Everyone’s heard of his legends.”

“Try not to appear so enthralled.” Envy’s mood soured further, noting she hadn’t answered his question. “He hunts women.”

“Those stories aren’t exactly true.” Camilla bit her lower lip after the admission.

“Oh? Do enlighten me, Miss Antonius.”

“Wolf prefers women, but he doesn’t hunt them to eat. Well”—she cleared her throat—“at least not in the way the stories tell it. Wolf’s appetite is… most in Waverly Green believe he tricks maidens into letting him inside their homes. That’s the cautionary tale told by men, at least, but from what I’ve heard, maidens are only too pleased to see Wolf. A night with him is… enough of a threat for men to weave such tall tales.”

He’d battled a vampire and legendary monsters, and Camilla’s face had flushed only when recalling lurid stories of the cursed Unseelie Fae and his bedroom skills. Envy stalked up the stairs to his cottage, wounds stinging.

As if Envy himself hadn’t given her an orgasm with his legendary tongue.

Jealousy, cold and unrelenting, lashed through him.

“Come,” he said, his tone frosty and perhaps a little petty. “Unless you’d like to wait for Wolf to return and see to that.”

After Envy had shown Camilla to her private room and attached bathing chamber, he retired to his own bedroom suite. The cottage was large and well-appointed, fit for a prince who wished for others to envy him. It also happened to be the perfect place to entertain Camilla while he privately checked his court. After tending to his wounds.

He hissed as he slowly peeled off his shirt. His cuts had only partially healed, causing his skin to freshly rip again when he removed his clothing.

Another thing was stinging Envy too. Directly after the battle, he’d waited for the next clue to be delivered. But no message had come.

And as for Camilla… he’d suspected she had secrets, but she’d seemed momentarily stunned by the magic that crackled over her skin like little webs of lightning.

Whether she knew she possessed the skill or it had been a shock remained to be seen. Creatures in nature held such power—electric eels, for one. Leading him to think she might be a shape-shifter.

If she wasn’t fully shifter, she could have some unique parentage; shifter blood from a distant relative would show in such ways.

Fae also possessed skills like hers—magic, and talents. But he hadn’t gotten any indication she had Seelie blood. Her ears were those of a mortal. Until tonight, he hadn’t seen any hint of magic. After he’d massaged her, there had been no sign of an enchantment inked onto her skin. And a glamour could often still be detected, even slightly.

If not Fae or shifter, then what else could she be?

Envy’s hands were on his trouser strings when he heard her sharp inhalation behind him.

He hadn’t looked in the mirror; he’d already known the wounds on his back weren’t pretty. They were deep, down to the bone in some places, and the hellebane ate away at his flesh.

They might even scar, for once.

The tattoo that symbolized his House, starting just above his elbow on his right bicep before winding across his shoulder and onto his chest, might even need touching up.

“They didn’t hold back,” she said softly.

Her touch was featherlight and far too tempting.

He knew what those painter’s hands were capable of.

“Miss Antonius.” Envy meant for his tone to come out harsh, but it was too low, too inviting even to his own ears. “You should go back to your suite.”

“I have a salve.”