Throne of Secrets (Prince of Sin, #2)

by Kerri Maniscalco

appearance, but I needed to know who she was—the only one in years who’d reminded me my sin hungered for more than adventure. A small suspicion crept in, but I kept dismissing it.

There had only been one other time I’d been initially consumed by a potential lover. Her crystal blue eyes had been bottomless pools I’d wanted to dive into. They’d turned to ice when she’d noticed my attention, and I realized then and there I’d never survive the plunge.

I ran a hand through my hair, cursing. If my hunch proved true… complicated was certainly one word for it, though it might end up solving one of my problems. Even if it created a slew of other issues. I had to be wrong. Adriana Saint Lucent couldn’t be the mysterious Lady F.

Battle in progress, Jackson taken. Bring help. “Send word to Houses Wrath, Lust, and Envy at once.” My wings erupted from my back, beating the air as I lifted from the rooftop. “Tell them to transvenio to Merciless Reach now.” I didn’t wait for Val’s response.

Magic burned the atmosphere, prickling my skin. Thank fuck. I swung my cloak over my shoulders and headed for the door. Seconds later, shouts rang out in the courtyard. My brothers appeared in smoke and fire, one after the other from their circles, using the transportation magic similar to when Fae shifted from one location to the next.

Wrath’s sin slipped its leash, the ground rumbling beneath our feet, shaking the snow from the heavy branches. He’d come to the same conclusion, and if he didn’t control his legendary anger, he’d start an avalanche.

We’d been watching the sky when a sudden shout broke the stillness. “On your left!” Envy yelled. I spun as the first dragon seemed to be born out of nothingness, stepping from the shadows of the forest, towering at least ten feet above me, its crimson eyes glazed over with a vacancy I’d never seen in an ice dragon before. I froze. Ice dragons’ irises were iridescent. There were no variations in color. Ever. “See that?” I asked. “Any idea what it means?” Wrath asked. I shook my head. “Maybe a spell or hex.” Our conversation halted as the dragon took another threatening step in our direction. It took a moment to spot the scar carving a swath along his chest. Silvanus.

No hint of recognition flickered in his eyes. Only a ravenous fury, aimed directly at me. I mourned my old friend, the little hatchling who growled even when nudging his head against me, quietly asking to be petted.

Envy wiped his dagger across his trousers, then sheathed it. “How, exactly, are we going to sneak an injured thirteen-thousand-pound ice dragon through your circle?” “Clean him up, put a party hat on him, and tell anyone who asks that he downed a field of demonberries?” Lust offered. Wrath shot him an annoyed look.

“I’ll send word to the witch.” Lust shook his head. “I don’t like it.” I understood why. The way the dragons behaved tonight made it hard not to wonder if witches were involved. Their behavior was so erratic, so unnatural, it reeked of witchcraft. “Have any other ideas?” I asked. Envy glanced at Wrath, his brows arched high. The general of war sighed. “I’ll ask my wife.” I nodded in assent. Emilia’s mortal family had been witches, so she knew spells and could work them better than any other magic wielder I’d met. Without delay, Wrath magicked himself back to his circle.

Smoke swirled through the snow, crackling like fire. Once it cleared, Wrath and Emilia stood hand in hand, dressed in their signature black and gold. Emilia’s hair was woven with flowers, the dark curls falling loosely down her back. Under her cloak she wore a long, billowing gown that wasn’t at all designed for the frigid temperatures of the north. She must have been in the middle of tending to some House affair and had left at once. I wanted to gather my sister-in-law in my arms, twirl her around, and share a laugh. But I couldn’t. Not with Sil barely clinging to life and an initiate hunter who’d been slain.

I dipped the linen back in the barrel and wrung it out, watching as the water turned pinkish. I wanted to hear him sass me about doing a terrible job, while almost doing a dragon’s version of a purr. Mortals had puppies and kittens, and I had Sil to love and raise before releasing him to the pack.

Lust flashed a small menacing smile my way, immediately setting me on edge. “Apologies. I slept in.” My magic alerted me to the lie. No doubt our other brothers sensed it too. Lust had been out entertaining lovers again. And I wanted to put my fist through his face for being so cavalier. Though, given his dark mood, his night—morning, really—hadn’t gone as he’d planned.

Lust was needling me, which meant either he thought I needed to spar, or he did. I took in the shadows under his eyes, his hand fisted around his coffee. Whatever his issue, Lust wasn’t really upset with me. I wondered then if the prince of pleasure had met someone who hadn’t been impressed, who’d ignored his advances.

“Gabriellis. I assume you’ve got a reasonable explanation for inviting us after the meeting already began.” Sloth’s ice-blue stare seemed to pierce me as it slowly drifted over the room. Unlike Greed, he said nothing incendiary; he simply raised a pale brow, waiting. I ignored them both, shifting my focus to Val. “Where’s Pride?” “He sent his regrets, Your Highness.” Silence descended. I counted until the urge to invade my brother’s gilded castle passed.

“He said he has House matters that take precedence.” “What, exactly, does that prick think is more important than ice dragons attacking?” Lust quipped. I blew out a frustrated breath and dismissed Val with a nod. “His missing wife.” “You mean the wife who chose to leave his ass?” Lust folded his arms across his chest. “He needs to take a hint.”

When no impending squirrel stampede occurred,

Triggered

“You entering that competition, Ad? Might win yourself a prince.”

“I would rather gouge my eyes out with a dull spoon.” “Really? Only a dull spoon?” a familiar irksome voice drawled much too close.

Oh, the prince was indeed furious. He loomed over me, eyes flashing. Axton was formidable when he chose to be—dark, dangerous, his gaze penetrating deep enough to pierce your soul. His expression was colder than steel and just as hard. Here stood the demon often hidden behind the roguish prince. For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

He seemed to read the thought before I’d finished it. The prince took another step in my direction, his body much, much too close to mine now. He didn’t have to utter a single word or threat. I knew if I ran, he’d chase me. There was one truth even I couldn’t deny: Gabriel Axton was legendary for being ruthless when it came to the hunt. I did not want to end up his prey.

I’d never been one prone to fainting spells, but the smell mixed with the crowd suddenly made my knees weak. In the next breath I was hauled off my feet, carried to the safety of an empty alley. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying that my hero wasn’t my nemesis. “You smell atrocious.” I cursed the old gods. Prayers were for saints, not sinners, apparently. I drew in a few deep breaths, then glowered at the shadow of my savior as he towered over me.

Tears pricked my eyes. Axton swore and knelt beside me, pulling the bag from my grasp. “Are you hurt?” Only emotionally. I gave a slight shake of my head, unable to speak without giving away the full extent of my despair. My eyes remained locked on the cursed satchel. “Adriana.”

I straightened, willing myself to not show any weakness. “I really must go.” “Adriana, I—” I spun on my heel and fled, only realizing as I pushed my way through the crowd that I’d forgotten to curtsy. And I’d left the remnants of my satchel behind. But as the tears finally came hard and fast, I couldn’t find the will to drag myself back and face the prince. He’d already seen me cry once, and it was something I’d vowed he’d never witness again.

Dearest, insufferable Miss Saint Lucent, Consider the gown a gift to those who’d otherwise suffer your stench with the spilled oil. It’s most certainly not an apology for ruining your parchment. Or your day. His most charming royal highness, unrepentant rake and rogue, who I assure you has no issue with staying scandalous, Gabriel Axton, Prince Gluttony

It didn’t matter that I had no designs on marrying the prince; it was the cruel way my stepmother glared like I needed to be reminded that I’d failed so spectacularly at winning his heart. As if I’d ever forget that fateful night ten years ago when I’d been made into the laughingstock of the circle by the very prince lavishing our household with gifts.

I paused outside the library’s ornately carved doors, haunted by the creatures I’d spent decades adoring. Two dragons faced each other, mirror images of ruthless beauty that seemed poised to attack. They were crafted of birchwood, and the artisan had used my tattoo as inspiration.

“Send a missive to the new vampire prince requesting an audience within the hour.” Jarvis cleared his throat delicately. “And if he declines?” “Insist. Blade’s court is in a precarious position; he doesn’t need another enemy. But he could gain a favor if he chooses correctly.” Jarvis bowed at the waist. “I’ll send the request straightaway, Your Highness.”

I grinned. Not many beings ever snuck up on me or Val. Even fewer lived to tell the tale. The vampire prince had a reputation as wild as mine, and his truly was earned. “Blade.” “Axton.” I jerked my chin at his weapon. “Greeting guests with your namesake is poor form.” His answering grin would have had a mortal pissing themselves. It made me like him more. “Your second calling me a leech in my own court is in equally bad taste.” A hint of fang gleamed under the candlelight. I leaned in, squinting. “Tell me, how often do you sharpen your fangs to get that menacing sheen? Once a week, twice?” His booming laughter rattled the sconces.

Demons were like Fae in one regard—if we swore an oath or vow, we needed to adhere to its terms or the magic binding us would wreak havoc, often causing a tiny inconvenience like death.

“I bind the Prince of Gluttony into a favor of my choosing, at a date of my choosing, in which he will not hesitate to act upon the request at once.” I repeated the words, watching with a bit of satisfaction as the stoic vampire finally showed a hint of pain. His throat bobbed slightly; the sensation, I’d been told, was like hellfire crawling up each of your veins as it bound a Prince of Hell to someone.

Val shot the prince an inscrutable look. “Thank the gods. I’ll be in the corridor.” “Always a pleasure, little sinner,” Blade mocked silkily. He turned his attention to me. “If you’re hoping to thrall someone, administer it at dawn or twilight. It’ll have the most potent effect then.”

Of course, I still had my dark suspicion regarding her identity. And that drove me wilder than anything else. I’d have an answer to that question soon enough, though. While I was in Malice Isle, my spies had been watching Adriana’s house tonight, ready to report on any movements. No one had informed me that she’d left. If I went to the Seven Sins and my mystery lover was there, I could’ve ruled out my rival once and for all.

AFTER A MORNING spent unsuccessfully trying to track down any of my informants in an effort to work off my annoyance over Ryleigh’s article,

A troubling suspicion was taking shape, one I needed to resolve soon. My stranger had a seemingly endless supply of runed keys at his disposal. He had to either own the club or be involved with its management somehow. And if I uncovered the secret owner, I had a feeling I’d know exactly who my stranger was.

If gossip was to be believed, the club might also be owned by those who had access to each Prince of Sin’s castle. Could my stranger somehow be part of Axton’s court? The idea had crossed my mind earlier, but I’d dismissed it. What if he was a trusted advisor to the crown? Or a thief or an assassin? The most troubling thought of all was one too blasphemous to even consider.

“It was either me or Julian.” I’d figured as much, though it still stung considerably to know my friend had spread that rumor. And she didn’t seem all that apologetic about it. We’d never fought before, and we’d never kept secrets before either. I couldn’t help but wonder if my guilty conscience was creating this little rift between us. I exhaled, letting the matter go.

I pulled my fresh parchment out of my new satchel, cringing only slightly at the supplies Axton had purchased, supplies the entire circle now knew about. I reminded myself that Ryleigh was my friend and she’d done me a favor. If I repeated it in my head enough, I’d believe it.

Finally, there was a question worth considering. Dear Miss Match, I’ve had bad judgment in the past, but I’ve just met someone new. How do I trust myself? I couldn’t help but think of my stranger from the Seven Sins. I’d been experiencing this feeling lately myself.

“If this is about Axton’s show of gross overindulgence, you ought to know better. He didn’t do it to be kind. He did it for his own gain. Probably to try to charm me so I don’t continue to write about him, or it was some half-assed attempt to distract me.” “Ad—” “There is nothing that male could ever do to change my opinion of him. He is still the same selfish, spoiled rake he’s always been. I cannot wait for him to find a wife to torment. Hopefully she’ll be as disloyal and petty as he is, and they’ll live a long, wretched life of misery together with incredibly dull and boring sex.” I regretted the harshness of my words the second they left my lips. Ryleigh swallowed hard, her attention fixed to some point behind me. I inwardly groaned. I must be cursed by some wicked fan of Axton’s. Magic had to be involved with his uncanny ability to sneak up on me. “Again?” I knew before I turned that the prince would be there. I gathered my courage and swiveled in my seat. And there he was. Quiet rage simmered in his hazel gaze. He’d heard my lovely speech in full, then. I opted to lighten the mood. “Someone ought to place a damned bell on you.”

He stared for a long, silent moment, then directed his impressive glare at Ryleigh. “You wrote that asinine column about us, correct?” Ryleigh’s eyes widened as she nodded. Axton scoffed, his attention once again landing on me. “Such loyal, unselfish friends you have, Miss Saint Lucent. Using you for their own gain.” I flinched. His barb landed because it had felt like that. “She didn’t—” “She did, actually.” Axton folded his arms across his chest, head cocked to one side, daring me to contradict him. I couldn’t. “Would you like to try another excuse or are we through? I’ve got a wife to find and torment, after all.”

“The only female in the entire realm who’d be miserable as my wife is you. Isn’t it fortuitous that you and I will never happen?” I flinched. If he’d stabbed me with his House dagger it might have hurt less.

“It appears we finally agree on one thing. I would never marry you, Your Highness.” “Good. I don’t recall asking and never will.” And that has always been the issue, I thought crossly. I sat back at my desk, promptly giving him my back. It was wildly inappropriate, but I didn’t care. He’d just coldly reminded me why I’d curse him until the end of days.

I suddenly became aware of several sets of eyes turning my way, the columnists all stealing glances in my direction. I commanded myself to breathe. To look as bored as possible, to appear completely unaffected by all the pomp and circumstance taking place on the stage. An impossible feat when I realized why everyone’s attention had shifted to begin with. Axton had spotted me in the crowd, his expression thunderous. For one horrifying moment, I thought he’d come storming over and put me over his knee like he’d threatened. Honestly, given the narrowing of his gaze, he looked like he was contemplating doing just that. An unwelcome heat spread through me. Perhaps I was coming down with a fever. Instead of slinking away, I offered him a slight incline of my head, refusing to be cowed by his displeasure.

Sophie shoved Eden back toward the area where suitors were supposed to wait. I flashed her a scathing look. Couldn’t she see that her daughter was miserable in such confined quarters? I was so aggravated I missed the drawing. “And the suitor is… Miss Eden Everhart!” The world came crashing to a halt. My sister’s last name was the same as mine: Saint Lucent, not Sophie’s maiden name. I shot my stepmother a horrified look. “What game are you playing at?” Sophie simply smiled back. “It’s no secret that the prince despises you. If you’d been able to charm him, we wouldn’t be here now. So why should your sister suffer for your failings? I told you she deserves to be a princess, and now she is one step closer.”

She’d used magic to secure Eden’s win. “Smile, darling. The realm will be watching us all. If you ruin this for our family, I vow to make you regret it for the rest of your days.”

“Maybe they want us focused here while they infiltrate House Pride.” Wrath folded his arms across his chest. “Did he ever inquire about the summit?” “No. You think he’s planning something of his own?” Wrath shrugged. “He hasn’t been growing slumber root to relax in the garden after work.” An idea formed at that.

Wrath met my gaze, his expression as guarded as mine. “We need to talk to Pride. Do you want to send a request from your House or should I?” A slow, wicked smile curved my mouth. “Neither. I say we show up there now. You game?” My brother’s grin matched mine. Entering a different circle unannounced could be an act of war. A fact that made Wrath’s sin tremble with anticipation. Literally. The ground rumbled hard enough to cause a sheet of snow to careen off the wall. I gave him a flat look. “Keep it together, heathen.” With a dark twinkle in his eye, he winked. In a blast of smoke and shadow, he transported himself to House Pride. “Thanks for the warning,” I muttered, preparing to summon my magic next. “Gods-damned prick.”

Pride’s silver eyes gleamed like daggers as he watched my hunter hurry back inside. The storm wasn’t the only cause of the frigid temperature drop. When we were alone, he flung a bag of slumber root at me. “A war, Gabe? Over a gods-damned weed?”

“If it’s only a weed, why, then, are House Pride’s grounds covered with them? I’ve heard rumors your circle is starting to look less than pristine. That’s so very strange for a sin like yours, where appearances are everything.” He narrowed his gaze but didn’t respond to the strike at his power. “You seem to have missed the part about ice dragons attacking, Luc. Remember the summit you couldn’t bother to attend? Try taking your head out of your ass and care about something outside of your immediate desires.” A muscle in his jaw flickered but he still remained stubbornly silent. I knew exactly why he wasn’t saying a word—he couldn’t lie and wasn’t about to tell me the truth.