Throne of the Fallen

It took two weeks to track the correct artist down based on the clue. Then he’d spent nearly two more weeks setting up his base in Waverly Green. He wanted to move on to the next clue quickly.

Previous games had anywhere from four to six clues, although none of those games had stakes anywhere close to the ones he faced now. But that meant Envy could be halfway through already, as long as Camilla agreed to paint the gods-damned throne.

He glanced down at the clues again.

12 green, 1 red = midnight, House Envy, target/next clue

The Hexed Throne

Same Lie Lilac. Anagram

Anagram solved: Camilla Elise

A raven landed outside the window, its beady ebony eyes fixed on him before it shot into the storm drenched sky. It could be a simple bird, or a spy. He did not need a reminder that he wasn’t the only player in this game, though he knew each player would have different clues leading to the prize.

That Fae bastard Lennox often chose those he’d wronged at some point to play his games, allowing them a chance to win back whatever he’d taken. The clues, the prize, everything would be tailored to the individual, though clues often overlapped. For example, if another player was in Waverly Green, they might need Camilla to paint them something as well.

Envy slammed the journal shut.

He was in the right place. Now he just needed to convince Camilla to help. He cleared his mind of all but his surroundings, needing to let a new strategy form on its own.

Hemlock Hall was a sprawling manor house located at the top of a rather large hill that overlooked the twinkling city below. In that respect it reminded Envy of his own House of Sin. But that was where the similarities ended.

This study was all dark wood and leather-bound books, with an oversized desk and comfortable high-backed chairs. No vibrant art, no elegant sculptures. Only bland mortal maps, inaccurate and odious in their design.

A slight odor of cigar smoke lingered in the damp air, seeping into the wood after years of indulgence, a hint of the previous owner’s favorite vices, of which it seemed he’d had many. In fact, the lord had recently had to abandon Hemlock Hall altogether after falling on hard times, and had struggled to secure a buyer due to rumors that his lands were cursed. It was the sort of terrible news Envy had been all too happy to hear.

And perhaps those rumors might have been planted by Envy himself in the weeks leading up to his grand offer.

Not that money was a concern for Envy. But the crumbling estate had held so much potential, and he knew the rumors only added to his mystery, ensuring that locals would accept any invitation to come tour the property.

And personal distaste aside, there was no better way for the Prince of Envy to enter mortal society than by hosting a masquerade ball, the likes of which he was certain they’d never seen before.

Envy reached across his desk to pull a bottle of dark whiskey closer, uncorking it and splashing a little into a cut-crystal glass. He swirled it slowly as he considered the game again.

A Fae overlord never went out of his way, and knowing Lennox, Envy suspected the other players would also be drawn to Waverly Green after their first clues. A masquerade might give Envy a chance to discover who the players were, and how many. And if they were all charged to commission Camilla, then Envy needed to be ahead of the pack.

He already had his spies watching her gallery day and night, but he needed to consider other ways he could keep her close.

He finally glanced at Alexei. “Have there been any updates on Camilla’s vices? Any temptations we can exploit?”

“No, Your Highness.”

A knock sounded at the freshly polished mahogany door, interrupting them.

“Enter,” he commanded.

Goodfellow, his butler, swept into the room, bowing politely at the waist. “My lord.”

It was sad, really, how easily mortals believed lies. Money, fine clothing, arrogance—with only Envy’s word, his solicitor’s backing, and Alexei’s agreement, it was far too easy to create a story for the humans here. Envy was a lord who hailed from the southern region of Ironwood Kingdom; his arrival heralded his family’s desire to expand their territory and wealth through marriage.

“Did you need something, Goodfellow?”

Goodfellow shot a nervous look toward the vampire.

“Alexei,” Envy said, “tend to that matter.”

His second inclined his head, then left.

To Envy’s knowledge, humans in this realm didn’t necessarily believe in vampires but could certainly sense they were prey when near one.

Fear heightened mortal senses, bringing them closer to the animal world before they reasoned their natural survival instincts away as silly.

Whether due to hubris or ego, man was the only creature who often ignored what no other prey did: trust your instincts or suffer the consequences.

“Yes?” Envy asked, drawing Goodfellow’s attention away from the vampire as he exited.