Another less-than-comforting thought.

He waited until she found her calm center; a feat that was more difficult than she’d have imagined.

She nodded after another moment and they continued on, Camilla feeling marginally better.

Finally, after another long descent into an abyss, Envy stopped. He kept his hand wrapped around hers, his grip unyielding.

“Golath.” Envy’s voice had been low, but it rumbled along the darkness.

Her heartbeat quickened again as the creature appeared from the shadows, peering at them curiously.

Camilla simultaneously couldn’t take her attention from it and never wanted to look upon it again. Here, where it chose to live, it was no longer nearly incorporeal. It was fully flesh and bone, its goatlike eyes glowing a sickly yellow in the dark.

Camilla couldn’t make out much more than its horns, and that was only because of the light given off by its eyes. She couldn’t see its mouth but sensed its smile.

“Interesting companions make for interesting stories. Come closer, curious mistress.”

Its voice was deep, elemental. Different from that of the Hexed Throne, but somehow similar.

Camilla held her ground—she was not prey, no matter how much this tunnel wanted her to believe that—and the creature moved closer.

“Ah. What a tale there is to tell.” Its yellow eyes flicked to Envy. “Master of secrets, prince of the dark, how peculiar to find yourself trapped in it. Moons are such chaotic things. Inconstant, flickering. As is new blood.”

Envy tensed.

“What information do you have about the game?”

“What are games but opportunities to either boast of victory or taste defeat? Have you not already won?” The Fear Collector’s gaze flared. “Proceed with caution, for there’s much to lose.”

Envy’s grip on her tightened, but she sensed it had more to do with frustration than anything else.

“Speak plainly. Or is this a riddle I need to solve?”

The Fear Collector watched Camilla with slitted eyes.

“There are many riddles, many games, many players. If an ice prince falls, will a crimson one rise? I suppose that depends on who does the slaying. Blood must spill.”

It slunk back into the shadows.

Envy swore. “We’re not done.”

“Curious are those who hide in plain sight. Beware, young prince. There are many slithering, venomous snakes in this sultry garden. Deception is the most wicked game of all.”

Suddenly a name popped into Camilla’s head—Prometheus—as if the Fear Collector had placed it there for her, bright and bursting on her tongue like a ripened strawberry.

She wanted to spit the name out, shout it into the void, but clamped her teeth together.

If the Fear Collector wanted her to do something in its presence, she would hold off for as long as possible.

She wondered if he’d done the same to the prince but refused to ask until they were above ground again.

“Is that it?” Envy asked.

“Memories, like hearts, can be stolen. My whispers echo through shadows, across realms, across times and dimensions, following and finding those who need to hear them. You never heed the warning, young prince. Will you now?”

With a troubled look, Envy ushered them back down the tunnel, away from the Fear Collector, and didn’t once turn back.

THE UNDERGROUND SPIT them out near the edge of Bloodwood Forest, an area not far from the border of Envy’s circle where using magic was forbidden.

He cursed the Fear Collector for the parting gift. Envy had planned on retracing their steps, but the ancient being clearly sought amusement and had deposited them where Envy couldn’t easily return to his court. It wasn’t lost on him that another player was rumored to have visited this forest two nights before. Maybe he’d find some trace of them.

Once they safely reached his domain, he’d magic them to a private cottage near his House, where he could think without interruption.

Envy strode ahead of Camilla, wondering once again what secrets the artist was harboring and how they might possibly fit into his game. He wasn’t one who usually found himself in the dark. And he didn’t care for this growing mystery.

It was one thing for Sloth to be suspicious—he was wary of everyone he met until he’d fully investigated them from conception to birth to present day—but for the Fear Collector to sense something… his warning had been clear. Camilla was hiding something.

Variables and unknowns were a sure way to lose. And losing wasn’t an option.

No matter how passionate Camilla had been delivering her little speech about leaving the past behind, some scars shaped the future. Envy had made a mistake. A mistake he couldn’t forgive himself for. His entire court was suffering the consequences, and he needed to make it right.

He held his loathing for the Unseelie royalty tightly in his grasp, never forgetting the role they’d played. It was a concept she wouldn’t understand; her life was a mere flicker in time.

Until she’d lost and let others down and felt the weight of responsibility press onto her shoulders, she couldn’t lecture him on only seeking sunshine and completely forgetting that the world also needed rain to thrive.

Darkness was never as appealing as the light to most, but that didn’t mean it was any less integral to life. Too much sunshine withered the soul.

Balance was the key.

“Who is Prometheus? Is it the actual Titan of myth?”

Her question drew him up short.

Had she understood what the Fear Collector had rambled on about in that circuitous way of his?

Envy held a finger to his mouth and glanced around the empty path, listening carefully. The woods were quiet, save for the gusting winds, whining and howling through the bare branches like scared mutts.

They were almost to his domain, where he could use his magic without issue.

“Do not say his true name aloud again.” Envy’s hand was on his dagger, his attention sweeping the woods again. “The vampire prince and his spies are always listening.”

Camilla’s face paled.

“I thought his name was Zarus.”

Envy’s eyes narrowed.

“For a mortal who’s never been to the Underworld, you know a lot of interesting information.”

“I think the Fear Collector planted the name in my head,” she said defensively. He didn’t have time to wonder about that oddity before she added tartly, “And the second was because my father had a lot of tales to share.”

Envy’s grip on his patience snapped. “Ah, yes. The man who was so obsessed with realm lines that he built a secret tunnel on top of one. Tell me, Camilla, why was your father desperately trying to find a way into Faerie? Or was he looking for certain shifter realms?”

Camilla’s mouth pressed into a straight line, her gaze darting away.

She remained silent.

“The woman in that painting didn’t happen to be the queen, did she?” he asked. “And I do not mean the mortal monarch. I know for a fact that Prim Róis likens herself to Eve. Strange that the painting was named for Evelyn. Perhaps your father had an affair with the Unseelie queen?”

If her mother had been a shifter, she would have despised the affair even more. Shifters and Fae mixed as well as oil and water.

Camilla’s steely gaze clashed with his; he’d struck a nerve.

His smile was as sharp as his words had been, but he needed to push her until that hard wall she’d erected broke. It was high time he knew what he was dealing with.

Lennox wanted her to accompany him to the Underworld.

The Fear Collector had given her the next clue.

He wanted to know why. Why her. With her rare talent. With her expansive knowledge of his realm. With her ability to withstand most demonic influence.