Throne of Secrets (Prince of Sin #2)

Sixteen Adriana

A FTER A MORNING spent unsuccessfully trying to track down any of my informants in an effort to work off my annoyance over Ryleigh’s article, I walked into the Wicked Daily and glanced at my overflowing desk. My stormy mood grew darker.

Stacks of envelopes spilled onto the floor, no doubt filled with questions for Miss Match. If any of them ended with stay scandalous! I vowed to move to the forest and live out my days as a hermit. Then I’d no longer need to think about the prince or the ice dragons; I’d be too preoccupied with entertaining all my imaginary friends.

Something was happening in the circle. Something terrifying enough to send even the most hardened informants into hiding.

Short of sneaking into the castle and infiltrating the prince’s staff, my next opportunity to gather information would be at either the Scene Stealer later this week or Axton’s stupid competition. I penciled in the play on my calendar.

Intermission was a wonderful time to gather information—almost everyone who attended was there to gossip. Hunters and nobles close to the prince always made an appearance, their need to boast unmatched by even the most scheming of matchmaking mammas.

I’d linger around the perimeter, blending in with the shadows as they freely spilled their secrets in poor attempts to impress one another.

Although, there was one more avenue I could explore sooner: the Seven Sins club. It certainly had everything to do with unearthing any new leads on the rumored dragon attacks, and nothing at all to do with the stranger who haunted my dreams.

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. The owner might be a successful merchant, or a devious noble.

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.

I took the key from my cloak’s hidden pocket and turned it over. I had no idea if it would even admit me to the club if I tried to use it.

“Good morning!” Ryleigh burst into the office, shaking snow from her cloak. “How is the lovely Miss Match this fine morning?”

I shoved the key back into my pocket and gave my friend a withering look she ignored. “Let me guess. An anonymous tip was sent in, and you were the lucky one who got the article?”

She flashed me her most winning smile as she set her desk up. Parchment, quill, inkpot, all lined up neatly. It was her way to settle her nerves and think over her approach to conflict.

“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.

At least she’d spun some of the story in my favor—Julian would have been much worse.

“Sophie is furious. She made me swear to smooth things over with the prince for Eden’s sake.”

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.

Though I’d also repeatedly chanted that the tavern singer with mesmerizing eyes would profess his undying love at his last concert, and that hadn’t come to pass.

“Why is she so concerned about Eden? She and the prince have never even met.”

“Sophie doesn’t want Eden’s reputation tarnished before the winners are chosen.”

Ryleigh rolled her eyes. “There are several thousand entries, according to my source. I highly doubt your sister will be chosen.” She jotted a few notes down, then leaned across the aisle. “Who do you think sent the tip in?”

“Who do you think?” I whispered, even though we were the only two in the office. “It reeks of Axton. He’s plotting something.”

Ryleigh snorted. “If it was an attempt to charm more suitors, I’m afraid it worked. Did you see the line leading up to the castle this morning?”

I wished I hadn’t. The streets were packed with people jostling one another, desperate to submit their names before the drawing later today. It had been a nightmare trying to squeeze my way down the avenues to the shadow network part of town.

Nyx hadn’t been nursing a whiskey at Eternal Rest, and neither had any of my other regular informants. More proof that something was stirring in the shadows. It couldn’t simply be the dragon rumor or Jackson’s death that scared them off, one by one. But what?

I glanced at the clock on the far wall; the minute hand was suddenly moving much too quickly. Today was the big day—the hopeful bride from House Gluttony would be chosen.

Suitors from the other Houses of Sin had already been picked by their princes and announced in the paper last night, but in dramatic fashion, Gluttony had waited until last to choose the suitor from our circle.

I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the circle gathered outside the grand entrance to House Gluttony at high noon today.

According to the official royal report published this morning—as read to me by my very enthusiastic sister who’d been up before the sun to snatch the paper—a giant urn was filled to the brim with eligible ladies’ names and was being guarded around the clock from any nefarious plots to remove the competition.

Rumor claimed that Axton would choose one name and announce it right there on the spot, his intention undoubtedly to create an even bigger spectacle of his hunt to find a bride.

One thing I could say about Gabriel Axton—he knew how to work the papers.

I read over one of the new questions, then quickly tossed it aside.

Do you believe Prince Gluttony is a good kisser? If one counted all the asses he kissed on a regular basis to gain favor, then I supposed he was.

Alas, that fell into the personal opinion column, so I couldn’t share the advice.

I opened the next letter. Someone wanted to know if hate sex was as wondrous as others often claimed and would I mind terribly sharing what I knew of Prince Gluttony’s wicked tongue.

I balled the letter up and considered using it as kindling.

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. At night, long after everyone had turned in for bed, when the streets were eerily silent and I’d finished writing, I couldn’t stop myself from wondering if my stranger was the best sort of indulgence—or another great mistake.

There really was only one way to find out.

In between hunting down reliable information about the dragons and writing my column, I needed to unravel the truth behind my stranger’s identity. All while keeping it from my closest friend. This was precisely why I avoided romantic entanglements—my life had become far too chaotic over the last week or two.

Ryleigh jotted a few notes down on her own parchment, unaware of my inner struggle. “You think Prince Gluttony will choose a commoner or noble?”

I set the letter aside in the yes pile. It would be the perfect follow-up article. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

“Are you sure? What if the gifts didn’t have a plot or scheme attached to them?”

I didn’t like the skepticism lingering in her tone.

I turned my full attention to my friend. We were skirting around a subject I refused to acknowledge.

I’d already been down this path with Axton, and it was a road I didn’t wish to travel again. It had taken years of needling him in the papers before people slowly forgot our history.

For his part, Prince Gluttony had never once mentioned our former… association.

I wasn’t sure if that bothered me more or not.

The spark of annoyance I felt now wasn’t because of the prince for once; it was because of the blasted situation. I understood how invasive it was to have my personal life shared widely across the realm, and this time it was worse. It was that fact alone that made me lash out.

“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.”

Axton gave me a look filled with such icy malice, chills raced down my spine.

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.”

“Our editor received the tip from an anonymous source. Perhaps you should take your complaint to your own infamous court. Or yourself.”

The look he cut my way could wither the hardiest northern flower.

“Do me a favor, Miss Saint Lucent. Don’t attend the name drawing today. I don’t want you anywhere near the event.”

Without uttering another word, he strode for the door.

The devil must have been working his brand of dark magic overtime. I was up and out of my seat like a shot, darting after the prince, Sophie’s warnings to think of my sister’s future spurring me into action.

He’d only made it to the first step outside when I caught up to him.

“Your Highness, stop.”

I hadn’t intended for my voice to be so loud, but the sound practically echoed in the sudden stillness of the bustling morning streets.

Axton stiffened.

It took a moment for my brain to catch up with my error. I’d commanded the prince in public. And, given the spectacle of his competition this morning, it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Several passersby stopped to gawk, jaws hanging wide, their attention volleying between the prince and myself, waiting to see how he’d react to such an impertinent breach of rank.

At least I’d quelled one rumor: there was no secret affection between us.

Axton slowly pivoted to face me, his expression coldly aristocratic.

If looks could kill, I’d be greeting my maker this instant.

He closed the distance between us, taking my arm as he retreated into the Wicked Daily, dragging me along with him like some primitive cave creature claiming his mate.

To avoid creating any further gossip, I went silently, though my mind was alight with all manner of wicked retribution.

“You are an absolute nightmare to my sanity.” His voice was a low growl as he kicked the door shut behind us. “Forget picking suitors. I ought to take you over my knee and punish you in front of the whole damned circle later. Really give them something to talk about.”

It was absolutely crass and abhorrent, but my pulse started to flutter wildly at the thought. How dreadfully inconvenient to start thinking of my masked stranger now.

Axton’s attention snapped to mine, his nostrils flaring.

Gods’ blood. I’d never wished for the old gods to strike me down in a raging bolt of lightning before. But there I was, peeking up at the ceiling, hopeful as ever.

Unsurprisingly, no errant bolt from a merciful deity put me out of my misery.

As a Prince of Sin, Axton could sense desire. And he’d certainly noticed, given the sudden intensity of his expression. He dragged his attention over me, his eyes blazing with some emotion I couldn’t quite identify. For a moment, it felt like he’d burned away every layer of my defenses and saw every secret desire I’d ever had.

In the next instant, his expression shuttered.

“Are you fevered?” he demanded.

“No.”

“Chilled?”

“No. Why?”

“You clearly must be ill if you’re—” He abruptly shut his mouth, adopting that roguish grin he wore so well. “I don’t wish to catch whatever malady you’re suffering from.”

The devilish look he flashed my way said that wasn’t all he was concerned about, and we both knew it. Ryleigh was doing her best to ignore us, but you’d need to be comatose to not feel the strange tension building in the office.

Axton’s attention shifted from me to the desk, and I could almost swear I saw the gears turning as if he was contemplating bending me over it now, tempted to spank me right there on the reporting room floor, uncaring if we had an audience.

His sin made passing up indulging a great effort.

And curse it all, my body wasn’t at all put off by the idea.

I needed to take a plunge into the coldest northern lagoon to purge myself of whatever hex I had to be under. There was no way in the seven hells I’d permit myself to be turned on by him.

I smiled sweetly. “Fear not. I still despise the unholy ground you walk upon. I simply wished to apologize.”

His gaze narrowed. Whether from my apology or my attempt to hide my reaction, I couldn’t tell. After a lingering moment, his expression shifted to that of an unaffected rake.

“Such an honorable young lady,” he purred, knowing full well I couldn’t stand when he used that low, seductive tone on me.

And just like that we were back to barely tolerating each other.

“Yes, well. Honor is a concept you ought to adhere to once you take a wife. Difficult though that may be for a scoundrel such as yourself.”

“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.

Once upon a time, I’d thought he would be perfect for me. Because he’d made me believe in his brand of fairy tale, right before I discovered he was the villain the stories warned us about.

I should have known better than to delude myself into thinking a Prince of Sin could ever be reformed into Prince Charming.

“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.