Throne of Secrets (Prince of Sin #2)

Thirteen Prince Gluttony

T HICK LAYERS OF straw crunched under my boots as I entered Sil’s dungeon. I’d had several bales brought in to cover the stone floor where Silvanus lay on his side, chained and unconscious.

Despite… everything… I wanted him to be as comfortable as possible.

“Anything?” I asked.

Emilia glanced up from where she crouched beside him, shaking her head. “I still don’t sense any direct spells on him.”

I leaned against the wall, considering other options.

“Would the dragons need to be cursed individually?”

“Not necessarily. But usually there’s some trace of witchcraft that’s detectable.” Emilia stood, dusting off her hands. “Spells and hexes have magical threads. If witchcraft was used, it wasn’t done to the dragons themselves.”

“Can you tell if it was placed on me or my court?”

“I wish I could, but I can’t sense anything like that. Someone could have cursed your ability to protect your court, which is an indirect spell, not actually placed on you. If that makes sense?”

It meant someone could have cursed or hexed me in a way that covered their tracks. Again, not disproving the witch theory. But not proving it either.

Frustration welled deep within me. I had no more answers now than I did yesterday.

Emilia looked at the dragon one more time, then made her way to me, pulling me in for a hug. “You know you have the full support of House Wrath. We’ll figure this out.”

I offered her a tight smile but said nothing as she left.

I couldn’t help but wonder if this was part of my circle’s private curse, if there was some game I needed to win or debt I needed to pay to make things right.

Two of my personal staff, Ricard and Wright, demons who’d sworn an oath of secrecy as part of their elite position—and who I trusted implicitly with this most delicate situation—wheeled a barrel of ice water in, wrenching me from my thoughts, their gazes fixed on the slumbering dragon.

I sensed their fear as they hurried to unload the supplies I’d requested, the tension in their movements belying the outward indifference of their expressions.

Wright folded a few lengths of clean linen and set them beside the giant tub, quickly stepping back toward the cell’s opening. He hadn’t taken his attention from the dragon.

“Will that be all, Your Highness?” Ricard asked, rubbing warmth into his hands.

“For now. See to it that no one enters the dungeons without my express permission.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Both demons bowed, then hurried out of the cold chamber, their teeth chattering all the way down the corridor. Demons were long-lived, not immortal like us Princes of Sin, and I’d forgotten how unpleasant it was for most to be so near an ice dragon.

Once I no longer heard their hurried steps, I set about my work.

I hung my overcoat on a hook by the door and rolled my shirtsleeves up, grabbing the linen and dipping it into the water. It was cold enough to make my bones ache. Which meant it was the perfect temperature for a dragon who breathed ice.

I lifted Sil’s enormous chin, gently wiping his snout in soft motions, removing the dried blood from his scales.

I ignored the growing pang in my chest. Jackson didn’t deserve his fate, but it was hard to hold any true hostility toward the creature before me. Whatever was going on with Sil wasn’t his fault. Something was impacting him, making him literally see red and attack.

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.

The giant dragon lay on his side, his flank rising and falling in that same labored way it had directly after the fight. Once I finished cleaning him off, I ran a hand along his icy scales. The dragon didn’t stir. He’d been in the same unconscious state since Emilia magicked him here.

“What happened to you, Sil?”

The dragon remained asleep.

No one knew what to make of it. And we were out of time for discussions. I’d sent word to each House of Sin, calling a summit for later today. With the pact broken, each prince needed to be brought in and debriefed. It was no longer simply a House Gluttony issue.

Wrath, Lust, and Envy had taken leave to rest and clean up here while Emilia had tried to detect any spells for me. The plan was to meet Greed, Sloth, and Pride at Merciless Reach after we’d privately discussed the competition and set the parameters for each suitor.

With everything that had happened over the last several hours, I’d almost forgotten about the whole ordeal of pretending to find my match.

I stroked the flat expanse between the dragon’s closed eyes, watching as his lids fluttered a few times but remained shut.

“On my crown, I’ll figure out how to save us all, Sil. Just hang in there for me.”

“Your Highness?” Val’s soft voice drew my attention from Silvanus. “If you still want to speak with Felix before the others arrive for the summit, you need to leave now.”

I wrung out the linen and set it on the side of the barrel, then stood, wiping off my hands.

It was time to play the part of the prince again.

Val’s expression was one of deep sorrow as she watched Sil struggle for breath. “Has he come to at all?”

“No. But he will.”

I adjusted my sleeves, slipped my overcoat on, and Val handed me my crown. It was time to meet my brothers and decide the fate of the dragons and our realm.

“We’ll give Lust two minutes, then start without him,” I told Wrath and Envy. Neither of my brothers was happy with the delay. I left them to quietly argue and searched the skies that normally teemed with dragons from Silvanus’s pack.

All was eerily still. Calm. The quiet before the proverbial storm. I couldn’t stop from worrying that the dragons had pulled back to plan a better battle strategy.

I stared at the giant wall that spanned from Merciless Reach all the way across the northern border, separating the wild, brutal land here from the southern territory below.

A moment later, the door behind me creaked open, drawing my attention to the matter at hand.

“You’re late.”

My tone was as cold as the welcome I received from Lust.

Instead of slinking into the chamber quietly, he shut the door hard enough to rattle the saucers and cups of tea and coffee set up along the breakfast sideboard in my private meeting hall at Merciless Reach. Given the sensitive nature of what we would be discussing today, using the outpost and its warded walls made the most sense. Not to mention, it was isolated enough that no one would know all seven Princes of Sin had gathered.

I had Felix bring the hunters and initiates out to practice sparring in the far eastern camp, so only Helga and her assistant remained on-site. Helga was in her healer’s chamber, mixing tinctures and remedies to keep in stock, and wouldn’t leave unless ordered to. Even then she’d put up a fuss unless someone was bleeding to death.

Wrath, Envy, Lust, and I wanted to sort out the details of the competition and get the announcement underway before Pride, Greed, and Sloth arrived for the summit. I had a feeling they wouldn’t want to discuss a fake hunt to find a wife after they heard about the dragons. An official royal reporter was waiting at the printer, ready to spread the news today.

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.

None of us had slept much and our frustration over last night’s events had our tempers running high. After we’d secured Silvanus in the dungeon, we’d taken Jackson’s remains to his family, staying to see him off to the afterlife.

We’d altered their memories, a decision that weighed heavy and didn’t settle well for me. Or my brothers. We might be wicked, damned things, but we had our own morals. Gray and skewed as they were, there were some acts even we—the morally compromised—questioned.

My brothers were anxious to get the summit over with and get back to their circles, to the seats of their power, to protect their courts, but had agreed it was best to delay their departure for a few hours.

I wanted this competition ironed out and announced. Now more than ever, it was imperative to keep our realm focused elsewhere.

Lust proceeded to fix himself a cup of coffee and added a frostberry pastry to his plate before finally gracing us with his presence.

He sat on my right, completely ignoring me in favor of slowly licking the frosting from his pastry.

“Mm. Reminds me of that sweet little hellion from last night,” he said. “Gods, do I love that club. I need to look into opening one in my circle.”

“The Seven Sins?”

“Not sure why it’s called that when so many patrons are clearly only interested in my sin,” Lust quipped.

I directed our attention back to the matter at hand.

“Sloth, Greed, and Pride will be here within an hour. I want the plan for the competition finalized before then. We’ll have each House of Sin appoint their own suitor,” I said. “That will give seven suitors an opportunity to—”

“Seven isn’t even a decent orgy,” Lust interrupted. “We’ll appoint two per House.”

“I’m not hosting an orgy. I’m supposed to appear to be looking for a potential wife.”

“I actually agree with Lust,” Envy said. “If you choose two per circle, including one suitor from a well-established noble family and one suitor from the general public might be the way to go.”

Wrath sat back in his seat, arms folded across his broad chest. “It’s a decent idea; it’ll get everyone’s attention.”

“Exactly. Appointing a member of the general public guarantees it’s the talk of the Seven Circles, because it involves everyone,” Envy continued.

“Good, it’s settled, then. Two suitors per circle. On to the parameters of the competition,” Wrath said. “Each week one suitor will be sent home. Weekly elimination rounds would—”

“No,” I interrupted. “With fourteen participants that would mean drawing this out for three and a half months. ”

“Come, now, Gabriel. It will hardly be an inconvenience to entertain lovers, unless you’re scared of being compared to House Lust.”

Lust’s gaze was filled with challenge.

I narrowed my eyes. I was certain now that whatever had happened last night hadn’t gone in his favor; he was out of sorts and itching to fight.

“I have no issue entertaining suitors for months on end,” I said. “I do have a circle to run and a court to look after. I can’t spend all my time playing in bed.”

“You could eliminate more in the early stages, if it proves too taxing for you.”

“I assure you my stamina won’t be an issue.”

“Of course not,” Lust said. “You let everyone else do the heavy lifting.”

Envy made a strangled sound, choking off his laughter. Probably because Wrath kicked him under the table. Wrath exhaled, then glanced up at the ceiling.

Lust was pushing me too far.

“What is your issue this morning?” I demanded. “If you’d like to host the competition, by all means. Take up that mantle. You’re clearly succumbing to either envy or wrath, and I don’t have time to entertain you .”

“Careful,” Lust said, a low note of warning ringing in his voice. “That’s not an accusation you want to make lightly, Gabriellis, especially when you’ve been lusting after someone you hate for years.”

Our gazes clashed and held, like two titans battling it out.

Silence fell like a thick blanket of snow.

“If you’re referring to Miss Saint Lucent, have the intestinal fortitude to say it.”

Neither of our other two brothers dared to move. It took a lot to push me out of my mask of carefree rake, and Envy and Wrath sensed that trouble was near.

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.

That would certainly be a first. And would explain his desire to brawl. Lust hadn’t replenished his power through carnal pleasure, and he likely needed to find some other source.

Instead of feeding his need to fight, I brought the focus back to the competition.

“Every House of Sin will host a drawing for one suitor. We’ll include commoners and nobility to keep it exciting, while also keeping the number to seven suitors.” I would not be swayed on this. “That way it will accomplish all that you’ve laid out.”

Envy shrugged. “It works.”

“Glad you think so,” I said, not hiding my sarcasm. “I’m announcing the competition today: details on how to enter, who can enter, and when the drawing will take place. It will dovetail with the private investigation we’re doing at each of our Houses of Sin.”

Wrath eyed me speculatively. Whatever he was about to say, he held his tongue. A knock at the door alerted me that our time to discuss this portion of the event was done.

Pride, Greed, and Sloth were here.

“Enter.”

Val stepped into the room first, her expression tight. “Princes Greed and Sloth.”

Our two brothers entered without preamble, eyeing us all as they took their seats.

They couldn’t look more different if they tried. Where Greed was all bronzed hair and eyes, Sloth was icy eyes and nearly white hair. Both could stick a dagger in your gut and not bat a lash, though, much like each Prince of Sin.

Greed’s coin-colored gaze swept around the room, skimming the half-eaten food and drinks, pausing briefly on Wrath before he aimed it at me.

“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.

“We called a summit, not high tea. He is aware of that, correct?”

Val winced from the drastic drop in temperature but nodded. “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.”

“And we need to focus on matters of war, not romance,” I snapped. “Now, Greed, Sloth, as I mentioned in the missive, we sustained an attack that resulted in death late last night.”

I gave my brothers a rundown of what had happened, not sparing any detail. From Wrath’s attack to Jackson’s death and the ambush on my hunters. With each new bit of information, Greed’s mood darkened, and Sloth’s indifference shifted to something harder, more cunning.

Sloth was the most well-read of us. Instead of debauchery, he lived for unraveling issues, whether spells and hexes or medical in nature. I could see his mind spinning with possibilities—it wouldn’t surprise me if he already knew which section of his library to investigate first. The mood in the chamber was rife with displeasure, but I continued.

Lastly, I informed them of the plan to host a bridal competition, with the hope that it would be enough to distract reporters and keep attention far from the ice dragon situation until we all resolved it quietly.

I finished the report with letting them know Emilia hadn’t detected any spells on Silvanus, and Greed sat forward, his gaze narrowed.

“But she’s not certain witches aren’t involved,” he pressed. I shook my head. “Isn’t Sursea still being held prisoner at House Pride?”

“As far as I know, yes. Does anyone have different information?” I asked, looking at Envy in particular. He shook his head.

“Then it’s time to go to House Pride and speak to the witch.” Greed glanced at each of us. “If witches are responsible, you know it’s somehow tied back to her.”

It was a fact none of us could deny. Sursea was the root of all our animosity with witches.

Sursea was known as the First Witch throughout the realm, since she was the first witch born of goddess blood to spawn magic users. Unlike the children she spawned, who were long-lived, she was immortal and as dark and twisted as they came. She’d hexed several objects that wreaked havoc to this day in the hopes of destroying us, her greatest enemies.

The witches weren’t humans who practiced witchcraft—they had power in their blood, aided by herbs and spells. She hated Pride, hated us all, and when our dear brother decided to marry Sursea’s daughter against our warnings, all hell had broken loose. Quite literally. It set off a chain of events that ended in each of our Houses being cursed.

“I’ll make arrangements to travel to House Pride as soon as I’m able to.” I heaved a sigh. “Anyone oppose the idea of using the bridal competition to divert attention?”

Greed pressed his mouth into a hard line. Envy and Lust remained quiet.

Wrath met my eye.

“The competition will create a nice cover story for why we’re all in and out of your circle too. Once it begins, you and I can take turns leading expeditions to track the aggressive pack,” Wrath said, sitting forward. “Every other night. We’ll see if we find anyone else above the outpost who’s had any issues with the dragons. I doubt the attacks on me and then Jackson were isolated. There’s got to be some solitary Fae who’s seen something. Even if it was a witch roaming around.”

I nodded in agreement. “Lust and Envy, double your research teams if you must. Sloth, track down any potential cause. Hexes, dark magic, bad takeaway food—nothing is off the table. Your library is the most extensive; I’m sure you’ll find something we can use.”

The knot in my shoulders eased a fraction. I felt like I had regained some control of this situation. But I wouldn’t rest until the threat was eradicated.

“What, exactly, is the timeline for the competition?” Sloth asked. “Meaning how long do we have to search until the realm erupts into chaos?”

“Today I announce it. In two days, we’ll announce the suitors. By the end of the week, I’ll welcome them to my House of Sin. Hopefully the news cycle will—”

Someone rapped at the door. I counted until the urge to slay the demon foolish enough to interrupt us passed. “Enter.”

Val’s expression was a cross between fury and murder. Wrath took notice, no doubt siphoning some of her emotions to fuel his sin.

“Apologies for interrupting, but you need to see this, Your Highness.”

I took the newspaper sheet from her, scanning it quickly, before cursing every last devil-fearing saint I could think of as I crumpled it in my fist.

“Has there been another attack?” Envy asked, rising, his emerald wings shooting forth.

Not in the way he thought, but it certainly felt that way.

I exhaled slowly, then shook my head.

“Miss Match just broke the news of the competition.”

Is Love the Most Dangerous Adventure of All?

Dear Sinners,

You’ll notice today’s Miss Match column is a bit different, but no less romantic in nature. Perhaps it’s the former scandal sheet writer in me, but I cannot keep such a delicious secret to myself…

It has come to my attention that His Highness, Prince Gluttony, the unattainable bachelor himself, will soon announce a competition to find his match.

With a reputation for ravishing and raking, it will undoubtedly be entertaining to see who will overindulge in masochism by choosing to be tied to him in unholy matrimony for eternity.

Time will tell how this storybook romance will unfold. Though it is important to note, most fairy tales are, in fact, cautionary stories.

My advice? Unless you’d like a lifetime of disappointment, I’d avoid entering this love arena.

Until next time. Stay scandalous, sweet sinners.

Miss Match