The magic in the chains sizzled, the fire going bone-deep.
A huff of pain escaped him, and the vampire closed in.
“Perhaps we’ll play a new game too.” Vexley crouched before him, crimson eyes sparkling. “The ‘drain you dry’ game.” He leaned forward, as if to whisper a delicious secret. “The rules are simple. I drain you dry. You slowly revive. Then we repeat for eternity. How long do you think you’ll last before madness creeps in?”
He yanked Envy’s arm out of its socket, the pain a hot sear that lashed down his spine, wrenching another groan from him.
“One, two… five hundred years?” Vexley asked, tugging Envy’s arm up to his mouth. “I’m willing to wager if you are.”
His fangs pierced Envy’s wrist, the venom causing an extra jolt of pain.
Darkness rippled behind Envy’s eyes. He could feel the venom colliding painfully with the ichor in his veins. He blinked once, twice, and in between Vexley was dead.
What?
Envy tried to open his eyes again. Vexley’s head had rolled next to Envy’s foot. Or had he fallen over? Envy’s cheek was pressed to the marble, the cool stone slick with blood.
Envy stared unblinking at the severed head. It looked back with the same dull expression, the same lack of life.
“Get up.”
The voice was sweet. Even if the command was less than appreciated.
Envy’s eyes closed. He wanted only to sleep, to dream of that voice.
“Envy.”
“Ah,” he said, eyes still closed. “A dream. A lovely, wonderful dream.”
Hands were on him now, soft, gentle. Searching. She hissed as if his wounds had hurt her, too. Then she rattled the chains.
“No. Don’t.” He attempted to pull them out of reach, the movement too much. “They’ll burn you, too.”
Featherlight fingers brushed across his brow, soothing again.
“Leviaethan.” The sweet voice held a twinge of panic. “You must get up.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
CAMILLA GLANCED AROUND the underground chamber, her pulse pounding a frantic beat. She’d raced here the second Abyssus’s ward had disappeared but was still too late.
Envy was severely injured. He should have started healing, and she wasn’t sure why he hadn’t but suspected it had to do with his dwindling power.
He hadn’t admitted so out loud, but she’d seen his court. Knew things were grim. And he would ruin himself to save his demons. Was ruining himself.
“How can I break these chains?” she asked, gently pressing a hand to his forehead.
His skin was cold, clammy. She suddenly wanted to drag him into her arms and away from this place.
“We need to hurry,” she said. “Please. Help me.”
His eyes fluttered but didn’t open.
Vexley must haven been torturing him for however long she’d been trapped in the abyss. And even someone immortal couldn’t withstand days or weeks of being beaten without healing. The magical chains were a nasty trick, ones she suspected were Abyssus’s doing. The constant pulse of pain seeping through them into Envy’s skin was clearly wearing him down.
How Lord Vexley had gotten involved she neither knew nor cared—she’d thought it was just a vision when she’d seen him attack Envy in Abyssus’s tunnel. But he must have really been here, in this place, beating the prince. It was one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but Camilla had waited in the shadows until Vexley had been overcome by blood lust, needing him to be distracted. Then she’d struck hard and fast.
Camilla squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the image of beheading Vexley from her mind.
She hadn’t known she could do something like that until a savage, wild rage had descended when she saw how hurt Envy was. Something dark had awakened in her, the threat Vexley posed igniting her long-dormant instincts. He was trying to take what was hers.
And she’d snapped.
Camilla had used the dagger Blade had gifted her, crafted of sharp, immortal steel, but it had been her strength, her inner power, the Fae part of her locked deep inside, that had emerged.
Ruthless, feral.
She’d struck at the connective tissue in Vexley’s neck, sawing through the tiny bones of his spine in one, brutal, ragged slash. If time hadn’t been running against them, Camilla would have fallen upon Vexley’s undead corpse, tearing him apart, bit by bit.
She’d caught Vexley by surprise, getting lucky.
Camilla needed to focus, remain calm, plot how to get them out of this predicament immediately. She darted a look at the entrance several yards away on the other side of the ancient site. She hadn’t spared more than a cursory glance at the Twin Pillars.
She’d spotted Vexley and Envy and had circled them, gaze split between the floor and the vampire, doing her best not to make a sound as she slowly approached.
Vexley’s headless corpse was gruesome.
And, most unfortunately, in the way.
She grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him off to the side, the procession slow and painful, his weight and size ensuring that she worked hard to rid herself of him.
Once he was far enough away, she squeezed her eyes shut and grabbed his head, holding it gingerly by the hair, trying not to gag as she deposited it next to his unmoving form.
That dark deed done, she rushed to Envy again.
Camilla rattled the chains once more, the magic burning her skin. She wasn’t sure how Envy had survived so long with them wrapped around his wrists and ankles. The pain was overwhelming in her brief contact with them.
She braced herself and picked up the length of chain again, turning it over in her hands, attention searching. There had to be some way to break them. A clue. A riddle.
Camilla thought of the game master, of what twisted way he’d devise for them to be unlocked. Then she saw it, faintly etched onto the links. A riddle.
She looked closer, spying a series of letters that could be moved around the lock to form an answer. The space made it clear she was looking for one word. Five letters.
For some plants, mortals, and all animals, too,
this begins but has no end
and ends all that begins.
Answer me correctly at the start, or after three tries I’ll permanently stop his heart.
She expelled a long breath, staring at the last warning. She had three chances to answer the riddle correctly, or somehow Envy would die.
She covered her face, fighting the urge to scream. Pressure built behind her eyes, in her chest, stealing the breath from her lungs as she tried to puzzle out the riddle without thinking about the clock ticking. Without worrying about a wrong guess.
“For some plants, mortals, and all animals, too,” she said aloud, hoping it would spark some connection. “Stems, limbs, teeth…”
She swore roundly. Nothing made sense for all of them.
Perhaps if it hadn’t felt as if a dagger were being held to her throat, she’d have been calm enough to think. Why couldn’t this be a riddle based on art? On something she knew without question?
“Breath, souls, heart…” Could plants have hearts? Camilla had never really paid much attention but knew there were plants that had heart in the name. Bleeding hearts. It was certainly morbid and threatening enough, but was it correct? The riddle didn’t say all plants, just some. Mortals and all animals had hearts.