“WHAT MAKES YOU trust anything that hexed creature said?” Camilla asked.
Envy had been watching her closely. Too closely. She’d known from the moment she’d opened her chamber door that he was not in a pleasant mood. He’d scanned her, his gaze hard, his mouth a cruel slash as he took a step inside and all but bared his teeth.
“I told you to put on something warm. Get a cloak.”
“Do not speak to me like that,” she said firmly. “I’m not a child.” “Then don’t act like one.”
She narrowed her eyes. Something was certainly amiss.
Camilla wasn’t sure what had shifted. If he’d had any warmth for her before, it was long gone. His coldness, the hard set of his mouth, the unforgiving glint in his gemlike eyes—here stood the villain of lore. The Prince of Hell wicked enough to inspire parents to tell their children terrifying cautionary tales.
She had no idea what could possibly have happened in two short hours to turn him into this harsh beast.
She scanned him slowly, looking for any clue. There was no blood, no wrinkle in his hunter-green suit, no crack in his icy façade or hair out of place. Yet she felt his dark energy roiling below the surface.
“What happened?” she asked quietly. “Did another player attack?”
“If we’re sharing information now,” he said, voice dangerously soft, “why don’t you start by telling me about your parentage? Or perhaps about your charm?”
Everything inside her stilled. “What?”
“Most mortals cannot conjure reality with a few strokes of their brush, Miss Antonius.”
“Well, lucky for you, isn’t it, that I could.”
He took hold of her hand, whispered something in an ancient tongue, and in the very next breath Camilla suddenly stood on what felt like the edge of the universe.
The world of Hemlock Hall had vanished, replaced by something much darker, vaster, and colder.
Envy dropped her hand, stepped closer to her side, and murmured, “Welcome to the void outside the Seven Circles. This is the space that connects it to all other realms.” He smiled grimly. “And before you are the infamous gates of the Underworld.”
Camilla stared at the strange air around her, fear prickling her skin almost as much as the icy wind. Looking down, she was stunned to find herself clothed in a thick cloak, which had somehow magically appeared.
There was no sound at all, except for the prince’s voice.
And the thrashing of her pulse. Anger made her spin to face him, eyes flashing.
“Are you completely mad?” “Not yet.”
Camilla had half a mind to leave him and strike out on her own. Except his clue had indicated that she needed to go to House Sloth too. Cursed game, and it’d only just begun. For her, at least.
“If you ever put your will above my own,” she said, her voice lowered but laced with the promise of vengeance, “you will regret it, Envy.”
“There are many things I regret, Miss Antonius, but taking you here isn’t one of them.”
He jerked his chin toward the gates.
“We have a long way to go before we settle for the night. I suggest moving.”
Camilla tamped down her annoyance. She had to focus on the game, and she supposed the menacing gates were the only way to Sloth’s court. Besides, she’d long had to tolerate brutish males. She could continue to do so, for now.
She turned to look at the strange cavelike chamber before her.
The gates Envy spoke of gleamed nightmarishly several paces in front of them, carved from bone and horn and fang. Creatures too wicked to live and too sinister to be forgotten, forever immortalized in a warning to all who passed through.
There was beauty in the Gothic feel of it, a dark beauty Camilla shouldn’t wish to paint. And now that her talent had been stolen, she couldn’t. Panic clawed at her as she tried to summon her talent, once again to no avail. Even with her magic bound, the shape of the arch called to her.
The shift from Waverly Green to this strange land was so abrupt, Camilla could scarcely wrap her mind around the truth of it even as the iciness seeped into her skin. The Prince of Envy had well and truly dragged her to the Underworld. No story ever could have prepared her for its majestic terror. Not even the darkest tales told by her father.
“We must pass through the Sin Corridor first,” Envy said, breaking the spell. “It will test you to see which sin you have the biggest affinity for. You may experience some… odd… feelings as each magic attempts to seduce you. Don’t worry, I’ll be watching over you with the utmost interest.”
“I’m sure you will,” she said icily. Ignoring his attempt to distract her, she considered what that actually meant. She’d be tested for each of the deadly sins.
Lust. Greed. Envy. Pride. Wrath. Gluttony. Sloth. Seven ways for this realm to do its worst.
Camilla determined right there that she wouldn’t make it easy, on Envy or this forsaken place. Now that she was forewarned, she’d be waiting for the first indications of magic.
“Any questions, Miss Antonius?”
“What will happen in Waverly Green while we’re gone? I have a business, a life. I cannot simply cease to exist while you play your game.”
He arched a brow; she’d surprised him. Good.
“I’ll have my people craft a plausible story for our absence. And I’ll purchase some art in your gallery upon our return. Payment—”
“You will do no such thing. I do not need your charity.”
“It’s an exchange for the inconvenience, and time lost. You’re a wise businesswoman, surely you see the value in that. Any other questions?”
She saw the value in that, all right. She would find the most expensive
pieces in her collection and tally them up. This might even guarantee she could pay her staff for the next two years.
Mollified, she considered what else she needed to know. “How long will each test last?”
“That depends entirely on you. This realm thrives on sin—the way oxygen and water are the fabric of life in the mortal realms, vice is part of this realm’s being.” He paused. “We need to travel on foot until the Corridor has completed its test. Other magic is forbidden until you’ve experienced each sin and have been aligned with a House, so even if I wanted to, I could not simply bring us to House Sloth.”
“This realm needs to determine where I belong, even if I’m not staying?
And you have no power over it?”
He assessed her before answering. “Vampires, Fae, shifters, and goddesses also dwell here, and while they do not normally choose to align with any demon House, the Sin Corridor will always be curious to see where you would do best. Think of it as a natural order, if you must. No matter how powerful a prince is, no matter that this is our domain, there are some laws of nature even we cannot break.”
He guided her forward, their steps silent, lost to the surreal depths of the void.
Before them, the walls around the gates were cavelike—stone panels soaring higher than she could ever hope to see unless she sprouted wings, the color a strange bluish black.
Opaque, like thick slabs of ice.
Envy placed a hand on her back, urging her forward, and had them through the gruesome gates within seconds.
She wondered whether he was only anxious to be on his way, or didn’t want her examining the gates too closely.
The moment they’d crossed the threshold, the gates closed behind them, trapping her in this strange new world of snow and ice.
Sounds returned, as ominous and wretched as she’d have imagined. Winds gusted, ice-coated branches clattered, and in the far distance she swore she heard snarls as of some great beasts.
It did not surprise her that humans had been told the Underworld was a land of fire when in fact the opposite was true. Places hidden from mortals were often disguised in an attempt to keep the humans from realizing where
they were, should they ever stumble upon them.
She gazed around at distant mountains, the surrounding evergreen trees, and the steep corridor through them, yawning on and on in front of them, trying to orient herself.
Everything was buried under snow.
Even the sun—if it could be called that—was a dulled orb pinned to a twilight sky. Another storm was blowing in. The cold air smelled of nature’s violence.
“You remain remarkably unaffected, Miss Antonius. Why is that?”
“I’ve been fed stories of different realms as part of my weekly sustenance for as long as I can remember. My father frequented the dark market from the time I could walk.”
The prince waited for her to elaborate, his cool, aristocratic features as remote as this frozen land.
Of course the Seven Circles, the realm ruled quite literally by sin and debauchery, by seven dark and dangerous princes, were forbidding. Like the regal man next to her. Or rather, regal demon prince.
That would take some getting used to. Remembering he was no mortal man.
She tamped down the rush of excitement she felt, hating how the thought of his power affected her.
“That didn’t answer my question.” Envy was watching her curiously. She lifted a shoulder but remained silent.
After lying to her and now this kidnapping, he would have to wait forever before she’d reveal any more secrets about herself.
Camilla drew in a deep breath, the cold air forcing her senses to heighten.
Envy hadn’t lied, at least not about the Sin Corridor. She’d pretended to be unaffected, but she’d felt the magic of the world circling them like a pack of wolves sniffing out potential prey. She wondered which sin would strike first, test her mettle. She also wondered if the realm would be surprised at what it discovered.
“We’ll travel as far as possible, but if the test hasn’t finished, we’ll need to shelter in the Corridor for the night,” the prince said, breaking the silence.
Camilla flicked her attention to Envy, noticing the tension in his body,
the strain.
He couldn’t have seemed more on edge if he’d tried. From what she recalled of old stories, he did not need to remain with her.
He was choosing to do so. Probably to ensure that she didn’t run. Or maybe it had to do with his sin. Envy wouldn’t want her to stray too far from his side.
He looked her over clinically. “Are you cold?”
She shook her head, then quickly gestured to the grand cloak. He was not the only one capable of withholding unnecessary details.
If he found that suspicious, he didn’t comment on it.
Instead, he began their slow trek through the snow, remaining a few steps ahead to tamp down a path for her. It was practical, but also kind.
Camilla drank in each part of this realm as they walked, guzzling details and storing them away to paint when she returned home, theoretically with her talent again intact.
This was precisely the sort of scene that would make her name in Waverly Green. Her father had known that distinctiveness was the key; his whimsical fantasy pieces had been so unique compared to the religious or still life paintings so many others gravitated toward.
This would combine Camilla’s love of landscape with the vibrancy of the fantastic. Something not quite as on the nose as Pierre’s work, but so perfect for her, holding secret worlds that begged to be explored.
There was so much white, of course, but it was broken with deep, rich splashes of green from the trees, gray clouds in the sky, and a beautiful bluish tint where the ice was exceptionally thick. The colors were muted but rich, holding steady against the looming danger of the dramatic weather.
They traveled up steep hills and down sharp ravines. Sometimes the path was so narrow she had to turn to the side to pass, and other times it was wide enough to march an army through.
The farther they trudged, the more she understood that this realm was vast—much more so than she’d ever heard. It seemed to go on forever in every direction—the corridor only hinting at what majesty might lie beyond those high mountain peaks.
Camilla had never traveled far outside Waverly Green, except for her family’s yearly outings to their country estate nearby. Still, her mother had
loved to share stories of her previous travels across the mortal world, often painting a picture with her words as deftly as Pierre had with his watercolors. For many years, her mother and Pierre had seemed an exceptional match.
Yet her mother’s restlessness had put an end to that.
After her father had died, Camilla had thought about following her mother’s footsteps and leaving Waverly Green. Suddenly alone, she realized she could go anywhere, do anything. At home, it had seemed possible that the flood of loneliness and memories would drown her. But she’d made a choice, holding close her father’s honor, choosing instead to run Wisteria Way.
Camilla had never really regretted her choice, but she’d still secretly dreamed of seeing the worlds from her father’s stories one day. Although the reality that she was doing so now with the Prince of Envy at her side seemed more than she’d bargained for.
Every so often she felt the slight pressing of magic against her and mentally brushed it away. Wrath was only mild annoyance. Gluttony was a slight desire to keep feasting on the world. Envy was wishing she had a way to come here whenever she wanted to soak it all in and feeling jealous of those who could. Yet nothing overwhelmed her, nothing commanded her.
She was the master of her will. If only she could summon her talent as easily.
Envy kept his attention mostly fixed on the tree line, indicating that the snarls she’d heard earlier were in fact beasts. She’d heard legends of three- headed hounds and could picture those creatures making the eerie sounds they heard now.
Envy glanced at her a few times, his brow creased as if she were the one riddle he couldn’t solve.
She waited, breath held, for him to question her, but he never did.
She studied him while his back was to her, openly admiring his powerful frame, the certainty of his confident, unhurried steps. Envy was at home in this harsh world, undisturbed. He was the greatest predator in this corridor and knew it.
And that knowledge made her annoyingly attuned to him.
Camilla watched the way even the snowflakes seemed to part for him, not daring to muss his hair or clothing, admirers merely sweeping to the
side, bowing to their prince.
If she were to paint him now, here, she’d have the whole realm bending to his mighty will. Would show the earth folding in at his feet, kneeling too.
She snorted.
He’d love the idea of being worshipped by the very earth he stood upon. He shot a look over his shoulder.
“Nothing,” she said, answering the unspoken question in his eyes. “Just amusing myself.”
“I can see that.” His mouth curled up at the edges, the first flicker of playfulness she’d seen on his face since he’d brashly brought them here.
He turned and set an increasingly brutal pace. On and on they walked.
Instead of Camilla’s being fearful of the snarls and roars all around, a sense of adventure reemerged, her creativity spinning visions of what the creatures hidden in the forests might look like, how she might paint them when she won her talent back. Because she would win it back.
Would the creatures be great winged beasts, perhaps with the head of a lion and the body of a whale? Would their fangs be the size of her arms? Would they be covered in thick coats of fur, or in scales, or something wholly new?
The possibilities were endless.
Excitement rushed through her as the next roar sounded, vibrating through the ground. It sounded like it was directly over the nearest hill. Camilla thrilled at the pounding of her heart, the rush of her pulse.
Envy shook his head, his expression still mildly amused at her reaction, but remained silent.
Camilla realized that fear had shaken something awake inside her, made her want to shed her civility and become all animal too. Dangerous. Batting aside these pestering sins, it was the only thing that truly tempted her. Aside from the prince himself.
But he was dangerous for a far different reason. She sensed he could unleash in her all she’d kept locked away, hidden. And the idea of him unraveling her secrets was no longer as frightening as it should be.
Winds gusted with renewed vigor, the tops of the trees swaying, beckoning her to let go too.
The snow began falling more heavily, dotted with ice.
Envy stopped abruptly.
“We’ll stay here for the night.”
Camilla peered through the dense foliage.
Here was nothing but a battered cabin built from roughly hewn trees, barely large enough for her, let alone the two of them together. Not after this day of Envy tempting her so fiercely.
For the first time since she’d entered this realm, Camilla’s heart raced for an entirely different reason. It seemed her true test of will was about to begin.
And this time, she had little hope of winning.
Brushing off magic was one thing, but ignoring her growing desire was something else entirely. And this sinful realm knew it.
