It worked against Wolf, but the king was different, she supposed.
Had that truly been what Lennox was after all this time—not Camilla, but her locket?
Lennox glanced up, as if he’d forgotten he had an audience. He waved a hand dismissively. “Get the demon’s prize. Send him on his way.”
Lennox flicked his hand toward another member of the court.
Wolf stepped out from behind a tangle of Unseelies, his pale yellow eyes gleaming.
“Claim your prize, Wolf.”
Wolf looked Camilla over, his perusal long and lingering. “With pleasure.”
Unseelie chittered and laughed, delighted by the charged look Wolf gave her.
She kept her reaction perfectly bland.
Once upon a time, he’d been sent to Waverly Green with an invitation for her to return to the Wild Court. She’d refused, of course, but their night together had changed everything.
His expression was as rakish as ever as he slowly dragged his attention over Camilla again. Wolf would never cross any unforgivable lines, but he’d play the part the court expected in public. She knew this was only an act. But Envy didn’t know that.
She sensed him beside her, a storm of barely leashed jealousy whipping below the surface. Envy hated her, might never wish to speak to her again, but his sin was still provoked.
Wolf didn’t appear to notice he was needling him. The Fae strolled down the dais, gaze locked on her. “Let’s get you naked and wet, Princess.”
“I’ll bathe on my own,” she said, knowing what he’d meant.
Wolf did notice Envy’s coiled violence. Was continuing to provoke him.
Camilla recalled the way Envy had fought at the vampire court, knew it wouldn’t end well for anyone if he finally snapped. One glance at Lennox and she realized that was exactly what he was hoping for, had set into motion. Chaos and discord were his happiest melodies.
And he’d played them all.
He wanted Wolf to bait Envy. Wanted an excuse to delay giving the demon his prize.
“Congratulations on your win, Prince Envy,” Lennox said, tone far too innocent. “Unless you’d like to stay and watch our little show, get out.”
The iron-pierced Fae went to usher Envy out, and the demon exploded.
In a movement that was almost too fast to see, the guard flew across the room, landing at the Unseelie King’s feet, his arm and leg bent in the wrong direction.
“You broke my commander,” Lennox said, no emotion in his voice.
An inhuman growl sounded from Envy’s throat. “Don’t push me, Lennox.”
Wolf didn’t retreat, but he stopped walking toward Camilla.
The king eyed Envy speculatively, then shrugged. “You appear more road-weary than I thought. Allow me to make amends. A guest suite will be prepared if you’d prefer to stay and watch the fun.”
With a flick of his wrist, Lennox dismissed them all, the party and chaos once again taking over the night.
Camilla looked at Envy, but the demon turned on his heel and strode after another guard.
She knew no tears or pleading would make a difference.
She was the daughter of his greatest enemy. And Envy would never forgive her for that.
This game had been about getting Camilla back to Faerie from its inception, and Envy’s court had paid a steep price for that.
If there had been any flicker of hope of his forgiving her, that ember had died.
SIXTY-TWO
ENVY’S RAGE BALANCED on a knife’s edge, one step away from razing the whole Wild Court. A vast dichotomy split inside him, separating two warring halves directly down the middle.
One side was betrayal made flesh. Cold, unyielding.
An ancient hurt that knew no beginning and no ending. It was a snarling, two-headed beast that wanted to strike out, inflict pain. Tear and gorge and decimate. Like the wolves inked onto his skin, the monsters he kept on a tight leash wanted retribution.
Camilla had played the ultimate game, and he’d had no idea.
The other side was worried. Protective. Champing at the bit to see Camilla, to wrench her free of this court of nightmares. Her true home. With her true family.
That side worried him the most. It was cold but in a different way. The icy precision of calculation. Of plotting. And for once, it had nothing to do with game strategy.
The Chalice of Memoria would be delivered soon; then he was expected to leave the Wild Court.
He should leave.
He should never look back, never spare another moment of his existence thinking of the deceitful Fae. This had been the worst game of all. He’d fallen for the lie.
But Camilla… it wasn’t as easy as it should be to walk away from her.
How much she’d known, how deeply she’d been involved in the game remained to be seen. Envy wanted to jump to conclusions, toss her in with the rest of her deplorable family. But he hadn’t sensed any duplicity in her. She hadn’t wanted to paint the Hexed Throne.
Had refused him time and again. All part of her strategy, or genuine?
“Gods’ blood.”
This was what happened when someone mixed pleasure with what should only be business. Envy couldn’t tell if his sentimentality, his cursed fondness for the artist, colored his perception. Made him seek good when there wasn’t any.
Camilla was Unseelie. Daughter of the king and queen of dark Fae. Even with her magic bound, she possessed the ability to paint new worlds. There was no telling how powerful she was now that Lennox had obliterated the glamour mark and she’d regained her full magic.
Envy snorted. No wonder she’d been so confident the night she’d tempted him to massage her. She knew he wouldn’t find a glamour mark under her hairline.
Had regaining her true form been her ultimate goal? Had she finally agreed to help Envy so she could be restored to her full power? It would be tempting and understandable.
Perhaps he’d been a means to an end for her. A passing fancy.
That thought rankled. For centuries he’d been the one to leave lovers wanting more. Now those tables had not just been turned but had been upended on him.
But… her lust, her passion, that hadn’t been fake. He sensed how much she wanted him, knew it had nothing to do with any sort of revenge for her family. That was real.
It was also part of her true nature.
“Fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair.
He wasn’t sure whether she was his enemy or not.
Her father, though…
Envy put his fist through the wall, then yanked it out, watching the wound bleed before slowly stitching itself together.
Lennox was a master at chaos, feeding off it and the passion it stirred in those who devolved into the lowest common denominator when provoked.
Envy refused to spiral. He would not fuel that prick’s magic here.
He sat on the edge of the bed, forcing his mind to still, to think clearly. This was just another puzzle to solve. And he already had a good portion of the pieces. If he removed all emotion from it, he should be able to put everything together accurately.
“Facts,” he reminded himself. “List the facts.”
Lennox was Camilla’s biological father. But she had not called him that. He’d seen the love she had for Pierre when she spoke of him, the pride in his studio and its secret passages and entries. Saw the hurt when she’d recalled his death. He had not sensed any lies.