Envy realized this wasn’t the end. A new game had just begun.

And this one would end in death.

THE BIRDCAGE PRISON blasted open, the impact of the spelled feather nearly knocking Camilla off her feet.

Silver-white light fell upon her, like celestial snow, before she’d regained her footing. Her father’s moon magic.

Camilla blinked against the blinding light, knowing he’d call forth his shadow magic next. The moon was light and dark, and so was Lennox’s power. Now a sea of unending black rolled through the chamber.

It was the darkness of killers, of nefarious deeds.

But after a second, it blasted back to brightest moonlight. Lennox alternated between the two contrasts, a rapid strobe from light to dark and back that made it difficult to see anyone approaching until they were right on top of you. He was Chaos, and all now felt it.

Lennox’s power was meant to disorient his victims, and it worked beautifully.

Though most were fleeing, tripping over themselves and others as they shoved and darted toward the exits at each corner.

Envy had been standing entirely too close to Lennox when he’d let his cloak of night drop. Camilla saw that he was still reeling.

Camilla had recovered faster, nimbly climbing out of the cage and stealing across the throne room. A large male Fae barreled into her, knocking her into a table where a human had been tied.

Please, the woman mouthed. Help.

Camilla cursed, unable to turn away.

She worked the ropes tied at the human’s wrists, her fingers slipping in the blood. She was trembling, trying to hurry while still glancing back to where Lennox and Envy were slowly circling each other below the throne.

Even without his senses fully intact, Envy was a predator who would not easily be taken down.

Camilla moved to the woman’s ankles and stopped short.

The moonlight and shadows flickered violently, but she saw enough to know that the woman wouldn’t be walking out of this room. Her legs had been carved to the bone, her feet missing.

Bile rose up swiftly, but she swallowed it, trying to keep the fear and horror from her face.

She turned back to the woman, ready to lift her and carry her to safety, but the woman’s eyes were glazed, lifeless, fixed on a point hopefully far better than here.

Camilla was frozen with grief for a moment, glancing around at the chaos.

This was her father’s court. His nightmare.

Fae crashed into each other as they panicked, trying to flee. No one wanted to be around Lennox when he lost his temper and let his magic out to play.

Mortals who’d been tied and savaged either fainted or screamed.

Camilla wanted to help each of them back through the Silverthorne Lane portal, back to Waverly Green. Then she’d smash the damn hexed key.

A flash of emerald caught her attention.

Envy’s wings were spread wide, striking out like weapons. Silver white, black, and emerald. The colors of the two males battling blurred as their powers clashed and clawed.

Something else caught her eye… gold ichor. Envy had been injured.

“No.” She stared as her father changed the flicker of his power, stretching the time between the light and the dark so he could move without being seen.

Envy must not have fully recovered from Vexley’s attack…

“His wings.”

He’d told Camilla he didn’t have enough magic to call forth his wings, hold the ward around his circle, and help his court.

“Oh, God.”

Camilla’s blood turned to ice. He’d used his final store of power.

To save her.

No matter that he was furious about her secrets. No matter that she was the flesh and blood of his enemy.

Envy had risked everything he’d fought for to ensure that she was safe.

She could not let him ruin his court for her.

Lennox struck another devastating blow, slashing his Fae blade low, tearing through the demon’s shirt. Even in the strobing light, Camilla saw Envy wince.

Camilla searched for a weapon, something, anything she could use against the king.

She hadn’t come armed to their meeting. And even if she had, Lennox would have taken anything from her when she’d been imprisoned.

Think…

She wasn’t physically strong enough to overpower the king. She couldn’t hold him back while Envy ran him through. She couldn’t bind his power or use hers to stun him.

There had to be—a sense of calmness dropped over her.

Camilla was dangerous with or without a weapon.

Because she could create one. All she needed to do was get to the paint and the brush. Then she’d summon a weapon deadly enough to kill an immortal king.

Two large hands grabbed her by the waist and tugged her back.

She thrashed, calling forth the magic that had killed Vexley.

“Easy, now.” Wolf’s mouth pressed against her ear. “You’re getting entirely too close to my favorite appendage.”

“Put me down.”

He did but didn’t unhand her.

“Wolf,” she warned.

Wolf dropped his hands but remained close.

She didn’t have time to waste. With Wolf following closely on her heels, she picked her way around the chaos and snatched the brush from the floor. Understanding what she was attempting, Wolf grabbed an unbroken jar of paint, thrusting it toward her, then jerked his chin toward the alcove behind the throne. She spared him one long look. Wolf was committing treason. If they failed, Lennox would torture him. Slowly.

Go on, Princess, he mouthed.

She nodded, then took one final look at the raging fight.

Envy and Lennox were locked in battle, their blades flashing across the dark and light like lightning strikes of gods.

Camilla pushed their fight from her mind, rushed to the alcove, and dropped to her knees, forcing herself to dive deep, deep into that well of power, summoning an image of what she needed most. At first there was only glittering darkness, no shapes or images to be found.

Then, like moonlight rippling across a lake, she saw it.

A bold, curved sword forged its way into her mind. The blade was graceful, violent. And the weapon was made of Fae killing iron.

With the image of the curved sword in her mind, Camilla began painting it across the silver floor, her brush flying back and forth, the strokes heavy and light, bold and thin. She hoped she was working quickly, that she wasn’t transported to some other realm.

That she was in Faerie gave her hope that only a few moments had passed.

When the sword practically gleamed, she reached into the floor, yanking the weapon free from where it had slumbered in the ether. She hissed as the very real iron burned her palms, searing the shape of the hilt into her flesh like a brand.

Wolf jerked back as she pushed to her feet, gritting her teeth to keep from screaming. Not that anyone would hear her cries with Lennox’s power surging as strong as ever.

A series of moonbeam blasts drew her attention to the dais. Envy was on the floor, her father towering over him. She gasped, but then the demon prince’s wings shot out, knocking the king down.

They grappled on the floor. Blood splattered everywhere.

Camilla took one excruciating step at a time, hand clamped around the sword, refusing to drop it. Even as her flesh sizzled and the sickly-sweet scent wafted through the room, she forced herself to where her father battled.

Lennox was drawing his arm back, sword dripping with Envy’s ichor, ready to end the fight.

Camilla didn’t think. She acted.

She swung the curved blade as hard and fast as she could, aiming for the back of Lennox’s knee. She felt the metal bite through his flesh.

With a roar that broke through the oppressive power of Unseelie magic, her father spun on his good leg, eyes flickering between black and white. A vicious sneer lifted his lips.