“Hello, miss, I brought this for you and some—”
Envy hauled off and hit him, his fist landing squarely in the demon’s mouth, his jaw cracking like thunder as it dislocated.
The demon clutched his face and darted back into the corridor, his covered tray and plush robe clattering to the floor.
It was probably the fastest anyone from House Sloth had ever moved.
Without turning, Envy said, “You and I need to discuss some things, Miss Antonius.”
Like what secrets she was keeping and why.
Envy finally pivoted to face her, his expression void of warmth. He would no longer play the game of flirtation with her.
None of this was about passion or seduction.
This was about winning.
This was about his court.
And Camilla needed to understand that whatever had passed between them would remain in the past. His brothers were getting the wrong idea about their arrangement.
Others would likely follow suit. Namely, the Unseelie King.
Camilla’s expression was impossible to read. Perhaps she’d just remembered what he truly was. Or maybe she was unwilling to part with her secrets. She might even already sense what he was about to try to uncover.
“Sit.” Envy closed the door to their shared suite and jerked his chin toward the sofa. “Better yet, take off your clothes and put on the robe. We’re going to test a theory.”
THIRTY-FIVE
CAMILLA SWALLOWED HARD; her focus fixed to the demon prince, who was gazing back without an ounce of emotion on his face.
She hadn’t realized how often Envy had started looking at her with fire until it was replaced by ice. Perhaps she’d underestimated the control he had over his sin.
She certainly hadn’t expected this reaction from a simple trip to the steam room.
Envy had to be well aware that there was nothing romantic involved with a trip to the spa, a place of relaxation Lo had told her was one of the jewels of his kingdom. Disrobing didn’t automatically equal sex. Being aroused and acting on it were two very different things.
After the story he’d shared, did he truly expect her to run off with his brother?
She and Envy might not have any sort of relationship, but she wouldn’t be heartless.
Even if she had just overheard the last part of his conversation with Lo.
“Unless steam rooms are entirely different in this realm, copulation was not an option, you do realize that, correct?” she asked. “Out of respect for you, I would not have come back to this room to find Lo if it had been.”
His expression turned thunderous.
“How very thoughtful indeed, knowing that you would have gone elsewhere to find my brother, Miss Antonius.”
“You know full well that’s not what I meant. Why are you behaving like this?”
“I’m the one who’s behaving oddly?” he asked. “You seem quite at home here. In the Seven Circles, the Sin Corridor. My brother’s House. Why are you so at ease around demons? Do you not find that strange? I certainly do. What are you hiding, Camilla?”
“You cannot honestly be annoyed that I might have a secret. You. The Prince of Secrets. Why not tell me about the prize you’re after? If you’d like to have an open and honest conversation, we’ll start there.”
She folded her arms across her chest, waiting. If he gave her one secret, she’d return the favor. But he would never get something without sharing in equal measure. If she caved now, it would set up a disastrous dynamic where he expected her to give while he withheld.
Sure enough, the demon remained stubbornly silent.
“I didn’t think so.” She was frustrated beyond measure now. “Since this conversation is traveling down an avenue I’m sure you’ll regret, I am removing myself from it.”
Camilla headed for her suite, and Envy had the audacity to follow her into her private bedchamber.
She whirled on him, truly annoyed. “What are you doing?”
“You wish to relax. I can assist.”
“How are you proposing to do that?”
“Take off your clothes, put on the robe. I’ll rub your back down with oils.”
“And you are so altruistic that you’re offering to do it for me without ulterior motives?” She laughed humorlessly. “Tell me, what exactly were you and Lo discussing before I entered the room?”
Envy scrutinized her.
“Eavesdropping is unbecoming.”
“So is scheming.” She smiled sweetly. “If you have a question, asking is usually the easiest route. Don’t you tire of all the plotting?”
He looked at her as if she were an alien species.
“You hate the Fae so much, yet you play just as many games, Your Highness.”
“Mostly just the royal Unseelie’s,” he interjected, a poor attempt to break the tension.
That admission didn’t help at all.
“What is the second thing Lennox took from you? Is that what makes this game worth winning at any cost?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Camilla shook her head.
“You are so tangled in Fae and the game that you cannot see straight anymore. Of course that matters. You withhold information, tell me half-truths and partial stories, yet demand I lay myself bare at your feet whenever you wish me to. And you give nothing in return.”
She waited for him to say something, to share one small piece of himself. Instead, she saw his expression shutter, saw the mask slip back into place.
For once, she stuck with brutal honesty. “It’s clear you’ve been hurt. That you’re angry. I suspect it all stems from whatever else Lennox took from you. But you’ll have to forgive those who’ve hurt you and forgive yourself above all. Or else you’ll keep carving yourself open, bleeding yourself dry. And I can’t imagine that’s pleasant for an immortal.”
“They don’t deserve forgiveness.”
“It’s not for them.” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “They will never care. They probably don’t even remember. It’s for you. It’s for your brothers, your court. And it’s for me.”
She brushed past him and closed the door to her room.
Camilla would find a way for them both to win the game, and then she’d go back to her quiet little life in Waverly Green, no matter how difficult that might prove to be now.
THIRTY-SIX
ARUSTLE OF FABRIC from the other side of Camilla’s door stopped Envy from chasing her.
Wonderful. Just what he needed to complete his night. She was disrobing and now his mind was envisioning the slow, seductive removal of each garment instead of focusing on methodically uncovering her secret layer by layer.
Even through a thick wooden door she knew the best moves to use on him, knew how to get his mind focused on her, teasing and distracting.
The same way you tease and distract her.
Camilla had not only figured out his game, she was playing it better than he was.
He strode into the sitting room between their two suites and made himself a Dark and Sinful. Double. Minimal ice. Fuck the berries.
He drank it down, barely tasting the liquor he usually savored.
He poured another glass, then went to his private bedroom and dropped onto an overstuffed leather chair. Each sofa, settee, chair, and chaise in House Sloth was made to entice one to lounge, to curl up and lose oneself.