Throne of the Fallen

His gaze never wavered from hers, so she saw the moment when he realized what she had seen, before banishing it from his face. A flicker in a storm, there one moment and blown away the next. But Camilla had seen it for what it was, knew it would never last.

This would always be a game to him. And the tender move, the sweet kiss… this play knocked her wildly off-balance. Only to worry she was tumbling all by herself.

“I should go,” she said tightly, suddenly needing space.

Seeming to understand, he clasped her wrist in his hand, drawing her palm to his lips.

He pressed a kiss to her skin, then stepped away.

“Bathe. Rest,” he said, backing into his bedchamber, giving her leave to exit.

A chasm opened between them, stretching wide, where moments ago there had only been closeness. A desire to breach all that separated them. At least on her end.

The tenderness was gone, replaced once again by his cool indifference.

Envy was content with their game as it was. And she’d broken the unspoken rule. She’d fallen for the illusion.

“I’ll see you in a little while for dinner.”

Camilla opened her mouth, to call him back, to explain why she suddenly needed to protect her heart, that this private game had somehow started to mean something it shouldn’t. She wanted to cry out that she wasn’t who he thought she was, but the only words that came out were a softly spoken lie.

“A bath sounds good.”

Camilla’s head rested against the lip of the tub, her silvery hair pinned high to avoid getting wet, the water’s warmth finally soothing her. She was trying to forget Vexley’s attack and subsequent death. The way he’d looked so broken and fragile as she’d stepped over him.

Then there was Wolf. He’d wanted to speak with her, for a while now. Had played a dangerous game, trespassing on the prince’s land.

With the real game underway, Camilla knew she couldn’t ignore Wolf forever.

Then there was Envy…

Excitement was something she’d craved while living her quiet little mortal life in Waverly Green. And so she’d been a willing player in their flirtation. Had enjoyed it thoroughly. There’d been a dark sense of pleasure in constantly upping the ante with him. She liked that he didn’t hold back, that he made his move boldly and ruthlessly, that he’d pursue her, then pull back, waiting to see what she’d do, delighting when she bested him. He’d treated her like an equal. His constant playing exciting her on multiple levels, not purely physical.

Their dynamic had been working wonderfully until that kiss tonight.

She knew what she needed to do next: end their game. And not by giving in to the heat that burned between them like flying near the fiery sun.

Camilla needed to put distance between them, set new boundaries. She’d focus on the game master, on helping Envy win, since that seemed to somehow be tied to her role; then she’d win back her talent and return to Waverly Green.

It was a good enough plan, even if she didn’t feel thrilled by it. It was the safe choice, the one that guaranteed she’d remain free of more heartbreak. She’d already experienced enough of that to last a lifetime. And Envy… even if she wished to share her secret with him, she couldn’t bring herself to. It was best to end their game now and walk away unscathed.

Her eyes drifted shut, the promise of sleep tugging her conscience under. Much too soon a quiet knock broke the serenity.

“Come in.”

There was no logical reason for Camilla’s skin to suddenly pebble as if a cold wind had snaked through the warm bathing chamber, yet goose bumps rose along her flesh, her body aware of what her mind had yet to notice.

Her eyes cracked opened. As if her thoughts had conjured him, Prince Envy stood there, looking as sinful as Lucifer the moment he’d accepted his wickedness and fallen from grace.

She should demand he leave. She’d already concluded that this flirtation needed to end.

Camilla did not speak at all.

She wanted to know why he’d come. Maybe he knew that kiss had been too much. Had come too close to meaning something they both knew it didn’t.

She raised a brow, waiting.

He could explain himself; then she’d send him away.

Envy’s attention slowly meandered along the lines of her neck as if cataloguing the shape to later have painted. It was something he’d done before, like that unassuming swath of skin fascinated him, called to his need to have someone capture it on canvas.

“Two things drove me here, Miss Antonius,” he began. “First, I considered apologizing for my behavior.”

Her heart pounded faster. She’d been correct. The kiss was just another move.

A moment passed, followed by another.

She wondered if he hadn’t quite worked out his apology and why simply saying “I apologize for being a tremendous ass and ruining our game” seemed to be such a monumentally difficult task.

When he didn’t attempt to speak again, Camilla’s patience dwindled.

“What’s preventing you from accomplishing just that, Your Highness?”

His mouth curved, and Camilla knew at once he’d laid a trap. He’d been waiting for her to take the bait.