Wolf looked her over, a frown tugging at his lips, then escorted her to court.

“Good.” Lennox glanced at Camilla, his gaze narrowing on her gown. He didn’t miss the subtle to hell with your court and games of her color choice. “You’re right on schedule.” He motioned to the guards flanking him. “Bring her here. I’m ready to begin.”

All but the new head guard descended on her. He hung back, holding an object under a velvet cloth, surely something nasty to threaten her with if she didn’t do as her father said.

She felt Wolf stiffen beside her, didn’t dare to look in his direction. Her father was watching her every move, the cunning gleam speaking volumes. She hadn’t failed to notice that no one else was present in the Crescent Court now. An oddity. When she was a child, the room, shaped like a crescent moon, was always filled with Fae.

Now it was still. Silent, save for the handful of guards, Camilla, Wolf, and the Unseelie King. Perhaps they were all still indulging outside on the terrace. That didn’t feel right…

She glanced around again, her unease growing.

The silver floor had been designed to reflect the moonlight streaming in through the glass ceiling, but for some reason her father had had the roof covered.

Another ominous, foreboding sense of worry gnawed at her.

The Wild Court worshipped the moon, bathed in its light, celebrated it. That her father had covered its magic… didn’t bode well for her.

She allowed the guards to usher her to her father’s throne. An easel and a small wooden table had been set up near the foot of the dais, holding a strange assortment of art supplies.

A paintbrush, charcoal, silver paint. Black, gold, and iridescent Fae colors not available in the mortal world. The Fae colors drew her eye, made her drift closer despite the prickle of trepidation she felt.

“You will paint the key and locket together.”

Lennox held the portal key up in one hand, and the silver locket swung in his other fist.

Camilla’s heart raced. Pierre had become obsessed with that portal key. It looked so much like a regular skeleton key, with an emerald set in its base, but to her it had become so much more. She wanted to steal it back, hold it to her chest, and promise her mortal father that she’d never let it out of her sight again.

“Camilla.” Lennox’s voice was laced with disapproval. “I thought the mortal adoration was an act earlier. Tell me you don’t actually harbor feelings for that pet your mother played with?”

Wolf’s warning fluttered through her mind. Play your father’s game. Camilla bit the inside of her cheek, stopping herself from snapping at the king.

Instead, she stared at the portal key and the locket, trying to puzzle out why he’d want them painted together. What nefarious plot had he hatched now? Asking him outright would only enrage him—the Unseelie King’s orders were to be met with obedience.

Still…

“How are they meant to be painted together?” she asked, the question innocent enough.

Lennox’s hair shifted from silver to white to black, his mood rapidly changing.

“A chain, a rope, a ribbon of silk,” he said, shrugging. “Your talent will guide you. All that matters is that the two are bound.”

Camilla knew exactly what she wouldn’t paint, then. But her defiance…

She swallowed hard, then picked up the paintbrush, her gaze once again drifting to the shimmering, ethereal Fae colors. One—lavender, blue, silver, undulating in iridescent waves—was magic in liquid form. She dipped the tip of her brush in it, then accepted the portal key and her locket, laying them both on the little wooden table, on top of each other, her pulse suddenly racing.

“Oh, one more thing.”

Lennox’s voice was a dagger dipped in poison, pinning her in place.

“Should you not do as I say, I’ll destroy this.”

He motioned to his head guard, who unveiled what he’d been holding. It was meant to torture her, all right. Except it wouldn’t simply hurt her. It would destroy Envy’s court.

There, clasped in the guard’s hands, was what had to be the Chalice of Memoria. The cup was etched over with runes, the magic dulled but waiting.

Camilla swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. Her father hadn’t let Envy leave yet. Hadn’t yet ended the game. No matter that she didn’t want to bind the portal key and the locket together, she couldn’t harm Envy or his court again.

Lennox watched her closely, the corner of his mouth tipped up. He loved it when his plan unfolded perfectly, had bet she’d fall into line.

And worst of all, he was correct.

Outmaneuvered, cornered, and without choice, Camilla dove into that well of magic, the talent that came from other worlds, just like her.

She closed her eyes, allowing her muse to take over, to show her how the object wished to be bound. Thin Fae-colored chains spiderwebbed around the key and the locket.

Giving herself fully to her talent, Camilla painted each thread in the magical color, going so far as to add little droplets, like dew on a spider’s web. The stem of the portal key slowly fused with the locket, the silver liquefying and seeping until the two objects melded into one.

It wasn’t a painting, but a new tangible object.

A shocking, horrible truth broke free, tossing Camilla backward in a magical blast. Her body flew several feet across the throne room before she crashed and fell into a heap, her head smashing against metal bars.

She could scarcely see the here and now; she was still half lost to that strange power. Last time, Envy had been there, shaking her back to reality. Now she was on her own.

And what she’d seen…

“Hexed object.” It was all she could manage to whisper. On their own they’d been just a portal key and her locket. Bound, they became something more, something other.

Camilla commanded herself to focus, to find her reality.

Cool metal pressed against her palms.

No. She was sprawled on a metal floor. The Crescent Court’s floor wasn’t metal.

She blinked, trying to force herself into the here and now.

A clang rang out, drawing her attention up.

“No.” Her voice shook. He’d caged her. And hung her far above the throne room, where her cage swayed dangerously with each of her movements.

It was a fine prison. A mockery of a cell.

“Let me out.”

Lennox didn’t bother to look at her; he strode down to where she’d left the bound key, plucking it up and turning it over.

“Do you have any idea what this is now capable of?” he asked.

Nothing good, clearly.

Camilla’s hands wrapped around the metal bars, burning from the iron. She wrenched them back, then tried again, shaking the door. For doing as he’d commanded, her father had imprisoned her in iron. It was unfathomable.

“You cannot cage me.”

Lennox gave her a pitying look. “I just did.”

“Why?” she asked, uncaring that she wasn’t meant to question the king. “I did as you asked!”

His hair turned black and his eyes gleamed white.

“Is that what I did… ask you? Like a nice mortal friend. A loving, human father. Or did your king give you an order? One you would have refused had I not given you a reason not to?”

He advanced on her, his gaze steely and void of any pretense of civility.

“You mistake your place in my court, daughter. You were invited to come home. Twice. First with a friend I sent for you, in case you needed one of our kind. Next, I sent Wolf. In case you required a mate. You chose to stay in that mortal cesspool, lowering yourself. Pretending you were a human.”

Anger unleashed her tongue. “I didn’t choose to leave in the first place. Or have you forgotten your little game with Mother? You made me a changeling. Then you condemn me for choosing to stay where I’d been just another game piece. I never would have left the Wild Court.”