Throne of the Fallen

Camilla looked like a royal standing there, shoulders back, gaze bordering on cruel. He’d told her briefly how they should act, the role they needed to play in rival courts.

He sensed her excitement, though she gave no outward indication of her emotions.

She wore the emerald-and-diamond ring he’d given her back in Waverly Green. Neither one of them commented on it. He’d offered her an emerald necklace, too, but she’d declined, choosing her silver locket instead.

The royal announcer stepped into the chamber.

“His Majesty and the queen will see you.”

Envy adopted his cold, royal expression. A new game was about to begin. The game of posturing and court politics, of provoking and winning.

Without looking at Camilla, he followed the announcer into his brother’s gleaming chamber, Gothic and elegant, made to seduce and intimidate. Camilla’s steps were steady and sure beside him, and he wished he could see her face as she took in the throne room.

He did a subtle sweep, trying to view it as she might.

Black marble floors with pale gold veining, a towering arched ceiling, columns in even intervals, carved from a deep gray stone; stained-glass windows allowed light to trickle in, casting muted colors along the chamber.

Massive black gemstone chandeliers hung like watchful demons, hovering thirty feet above them. Gold weapons decorated the walls, while fierce serpent sconces spit fire.

A dark burgundy runner spanned the length of the room, a trail of blood leading to the dais and the demon king sitting there with his queen.

That dais was carved from opaque gemstone that looked like frozen smoke; the very same stone was found in the void between realms.

Two matching thrones sat at the top, intimidating champagne bronze serpents curved around black leather, thorny vines twined around the serpents’ bodies.

A nod to both regents’ power.

Envy fought the urge to glance at Camilla, wondering what she thought of his war-loving brother. Wrath radiated subtle menace, his power rumbling even while under control.

Envy supposed his brother might also be wound up because Envy winked suggestively at his wife.

Emilia shook her head, lips twitching. She knew exactly what Envy had done, knew he’d needled Wrath for the thrill of it. What she didn’t realize was that Envy needed to stoke his jealousy. He needed to pull as much power to himself as possible; his court was spiraling, and he was extending too much energy keeping them together.

He hadn’t fully restored himself since the vampire battle, and he’d need to do so before they left here. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be helpful to Camilla or his court.

Camilla stiffened beside him, and he silently cursed himself for not mentioning that this was Vittoria’s twin.

“Lady Emilia,” he said, smiling so that his dimples showed. Wrath looked ready to launch himself out of the throne. But Camilla relaxed. “You received my gift?”

The queen blushed. “I cannot believe you sent that.”

“Fear not. The original still hangs above my bed. I had it replicated for you. Just in case you grow tired of your husband and want a little excitement.”

Envy turned to Camilla, his expression mischievous.

“You’ve seen the life-sized portrait above my bed. A few months ago, Lady Emilia was given leave to use it as a stimulating visual when she was fighting with my brother. He’s envious that my cock is so legendary.”

Wrath sat forward, eyeing their exchange with interest. “You spent the night together.”

Envy’s teeth ground together audibly. “Yes.”

Wrath and Emilia glanced at each other, a silent conversation playing out. Envy practically saw them plotting right there in front of him. Some people clearly needed to stick their noses in other people’s business to have any form of excitement in their lives.

Camilla looked Envy over coldly, then said, “Perhaps I should offer the king a portrait of his own. It only seems fair.”

Envy stared at her. She’d gone and stoked his sin. Then he realized why. Even though Camilla knew this wasn’t Vittoria, she was still unhappy with his gift.

He opened his senses, and Camilla’s envy hit him hard. He silently cursed.

“I’ve never fucked Emilia, or tried to,” he said. “Else she’d be my princess.”

He couldn’t resist adding that last part; his brother’s fury and envy exploded.

Envy drew it in, filling his power to the brim. Even if Wrath punched him, it would be worth it for the massive envy he’d sent out into the chamber.

Wrath’s glittering, night-colored wings—once wrenched away from him by magic—shot out, the span of them meant to intimidate. Once upon a time they’d been silver-tipped white flame—a weapon he’d wielded in battle time and again.

Camilla still wore the cold, cruel expression she had earlier. Barely sparing Wrath and his wings a second glance. This time, however, there was an edge in her tone.

She was well and truly pissed off at Envy.

“Do you always share nude images with other women?” she asked.

For a moment, Envy had nothing to say.