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.

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.

Envy was starting to think that Lennox’s inclusion of her had less to do with taunting Envy than with Lennox’s luring Camilla back to the Wild Court. She was one of the four Unseelie heirs; maybe her father wanted her to rule over one of the smaller courts. Or maybe he was just pissed off that her mother had stolen his trinket and wanted it back.

“Not my court. Not my problem,” Envy muttered to himself.

Lying to himself.

Camilla must have known. Must have figured out what her father was truly after. Yet she’d continued to help Envy, had come all the way to the Fae realm, knowing what lay in store for her, knowing how much Envy hated Unseelie royalty.

Though that wasn’t out of the goodness of her heart, as he’d just found out. The Hexed Throne had stolen her talent, driving her to follow the game until it ended. A detail Camilla hadn’t shared. One more Unseelie royal playing him for a fool.

Devil below. He’d fucked an Unseelie princess on his throne.

A sworn enemy, hated beyond anything, owned him in his court.

And Envy liked it. That was what needled him the most. He couldn’t even pretend that he hadn’t considered giving everything up, damning his whole circle, because he’d gone and gotten addicted to the clever, wonderful female who’d stood up to him time and again.

No wonder her passion was endless. It was her nature, seeking emotions that were large, feeding her own power.

That didn’t quite sit truthfully, though.

Logic told him that what they’d shared was real. The hurt he felt… that was also real.

A soft knock had him yanking the door open, ready to either kiss or kill—

“Wolf.”

The Fae’s eyes glittered darkly. “Expecting someone else?”

“Get the fuck out.”

Wolf folded his arms across his chest, staring down his nose at Envy.

The look was pure Fae arrogance.

Envy thought about punching it off his face, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone.

“I don’t like you,” Wolf said simply. Envy gave him a dark look. “I do like Camilla. I like her heart. Her creativity. And I love that sound she makes right before she comes.”

Envy’s jaw locked, his hand curling at his side. If he struck Wolf, Lennox might hold off on delivering his prize.

His court. He had to think only of saving his court now.

“Get to the point, Wolf.”

“I want her. I go after what I want. With gusto.” Wolf’s gaze flared. “But she seems to want you. Personally, I think she’ll get over it. Once upon a time, she liked me, too. When you’re gone, I’ll still be here. Comforting her.”

Envy silently counted backward. Focusing on his failing demons. On the monstrosity of his court. On the way it would feel to have Wolf’s blood spilling across his fist.

“And when she wants me to, I’ll be right back in her bed. Pleasuring her.”

Envy went to slam the door in the Fae prick’s face, but Wolf shoved his boot over the threshold, blocking him from doing so. There was a satisfying crunch, though.

“Would you like me to set up a parade?” Envy asked.

“When you walk out of this court,” Wolf said, “I want you to think about what you’re leaving behind. Who. And then I want you to remember that there are others who are far less foolish, who won’t simply walk away when things get hard and aren’t a perfect fairy tale anymore.”