“If you’re sure Lennox didn’t plant this clue back then,” Envy said, “show me the proof.”

“Tell me why you need to win so badly, and I’ll consider sharing my court secrets,” Lo lobbed back. “This game just began in the last month or so, correct?”

“Lennox has been known to plant clues whenever the opportunity arises.”

“You’re not answering my question,” Lo said.

Best of luck with that futile inquiry, Camilla thought crossly.

“Maybe the gossip column was correct. Maybe you’re playing for much more this time.”

Camilla’s brows rose. “Gossip column? What did it say?”

Envy shot his brother a contemptuous look. “It didn’t say anything.”

“How very odd,” Camilla said, “that a paper should print nothing at all. Yet here we all are, discussing something.”

“Bloody hell, do you ever cease with your games?” Lo said. “The paper is public knowledge.” He shook his head and looked at Camilla. “Rumors suggest Envy’s circle has been magically warded. No one has been able to go in or out. It started just when the game did.”

“I don’t see how it matters whether it is true,” Envy said.

Camilla watched him closely. His demeanor had shifted slightly—it was nothing very noticeable, but he’d tensed for the briefest moment before adopting that frustratingly blasé attitude. As if he couldn’t be bothered about the rumors.

Which was categorically false, as he’d just tried to keep that rumor from her.

She couldn’t sort out why he’d attempt to downplay its significance unless he was hiding a much darker truth.

“Exactly,” Lo said, interrupting her thoughts. “You refuse to tell me any of your court secrets, so I have no desire to share mine.”

As the princes continued to bicker, Camilla wished to throttle them both. They’d now been at this particular disagreement for an hour. She half wished they’d pull their cocks out to compare sizes and get on with it.

Envy’s attention snapped to her.

“Mine’s much larger, Miss Antonius.”

She rolled her eyes. Leave it to Envy to pick up on that.

Lo glanced between the two of them, brows knitted at their silent conversation.

“Nothing.” Camilla waved her hand, irked. “Please, continue this scintillating argument. I’m sure we have several more hours we can dedicate to it as well.”

The two males picked up where they’d left off, completely missing her sarcasm.

At the rate they were going, they’d never make it out of House Sloth.

Perhaps this was evidence of the prince’s sin at work. They were moving at a snail’s pace, and Camilla had never realized before how inactivity drove her mad. At home she was always in motion: drawing or painting or curating the gallery or visiting Kitty. Tending to Bunny and waltzing her around the town house, kissing her fuzzy little peanut head.

Now Camilla was… losing her mind.

She missed her big gray-and-white cat.

She wanted to find the next clue as much as Envy did, but she, at least, refused to be waylaid by petty feuds and court politics.

Thinking of clues, Camilla briefly wondered if she should be searching for something else for her first riddle, but no note had magically appeared with any game rules for her, and no blood oath had been signed. So was she not quite a player? She supposed she was a pawn.

A fact she hated.

Just as the game master had known she would. He’d made his move expertly. This had been the highest form of blackmail, proving there really was no honor among thieves.

If she’d never agreed to Envy’s bargain, she would never have painted a hexed object. And she’d not be in this predicament now. It had all been plotted brilliantly.

Camilla needed to get her talent back.

But it wasn’t Envy’s fault. One way or another, her path would always have ended on this road. She’d known that the hunter’s return was an inevitability, as was the lure of the Fae. The clouds of her past had been looming above for some time, gathering into this perfect storm.

She closed the book she’d long since stopped scanning and glanced around the chamber again. They were in a room dedicated to emotions, and the only thing she felt at present was irritation. Everything looked to be in place. No book stood out to her, no object, except…

Her attention returned to the giant nautilus, then drifted over to that smoky glass ball.

It wasn’t unusual to find an object or artifact tucked into the shelves here, but something about this object kept drawing Camilla’s eye. Perhaps it was simply shiny and pretty and like a magpie she had a fondness for sparkly items.

“Hand it over,” Envy said, continuing the argument with his brother.

“As outrageous as it is to consider, your game isn’t responsible for everything in this bloody realm,” Lo shot back, equally annoyed. “If you can’t tell me why this is so important to win, don’t expect me to put my court in peril.”

Camilla crossed the chamber to get a better look at the gleaming nautilus shell.

Her fingers glided over the smooth surface, marveling at the burnt-umber stripes running along its curved outer edge.

She turned it over carefully, admiring the mother-of-pearl interior and the clever spiral pattern the mollusk was known for. Nature was the greatest artist.

She replaced the shell and picked up the glittering ball, holding it up to the light.

Her mood shifted from annoyance to wonder. The ball was even more magical up close. What she’d initially believed was opaque glass was actually thousands of little ebony grains that moved like sand within an hourglass each time she turned it.

The object was lovely.

Something about it made her want to smash it to pieces.

She’d raised her hand, intent on doing just that, when one word broke her trance.

“Stop.” Magic laced Envy’s voice, the power winding around her until she couldn’t have ignored him if she’d tried.

The prince was slowly approaching, hands up, like she was a wild animal ready to attack.

“What?” she asked.

“Put the Orb of Golath down. Slowly.”

Envy kept his gaze on her, steady, calming. Yet his demeanor only succeeded in making her more nervous. Her attention shot around the room. Lo, the two male research assistants who’d been quietly thumbing through each shelf, everyone had stilled, watching.

She looked down at the object she held, noticing the strange pulse for the first time. It beat like a phantom heart, like a distant drum. Somehow she felt like all the fears in the universe had been collected and were pounding at the thin glass to be freed.

“Oh, it’s doing… something.”

Envy moved slowly but steadily, his voice low and commanding. “Look at me. It will not harm you so long as it remains intact.”

Of course, that statement made her want to toss the damn thing far away.

“It’s pulsing.” Camilla suddenly feared she’d hold it too tightly and shatter the glass by accident. Then she worried she’d not hold it tightly enough and it’d drop.

It undulated in her palms, the feeling twisting her insides into knots.

“Whatever it tries to do to get you to drop it, you must ignore it,” Envy said. “The orb wants you to break it.”

“The orb of what?”

“Gods’ bones,” Envy muttered. “Did you even see the cursed thing sitting there, Sloth?”

“Must have been glamoured from us.” Lo sounded shaken.

“Why?” Camilla asked, trying to ignore the slick, cool feeling of the glass. It shifted again, now reminding her of a leech as it suctioned to her skin. “Why wasn’t it glamoured from me?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” Envy asked, his tone curious. He shifted to his brother. “It wasn’t part of your collection, correct?”

Lo shook his head. “No. I don’t have an orb on the premises.”

“Then this is definitely our next clue.” Envy faced her again, face grim. “Try to set it down now, Camilla.”