Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked Book 2)
Kingdom of the Cursed: CHAPTER 19

Ice-coated flowers sparkled like crystal and branches tinkled like winter chimes above my head as I strolled through the garden.

It was cold enough that I needed fur-lined gloves and a heavy velvet cloak, but the morning itself was lovely. Peaceful. I hadn’t had many of those days over the last few months, and this felt decadent. I squinted up through the latticework of boughs. On a good number of trees leaves stubbornly clung to life, frozen until either warmth or sunshine set them free.

I still hadn’t seen the sun through all the snow and overcast skies, so it would probably be a good long while before a thaw happened. If ever. I recalled the way Wrath had soaked up the sun one lazy afternoon on the roof of his commandeered castle in my city. Back then I’d assumed he’d missed the fiery pits of his hellish home. Now I knew better.

Clusters of flowers—pinkish purple roses and peonies and something with petals that looked like tiny silver crescent moons—sprung up in wider sections of the maze. I slowly walked along the inner pathway, the hedges towering on either side, beautiful living walls dusted with snow. The gardens of House Wrath were another stunning example of his refined tastes.

I followed the meandering trail until I came upon a reflecting pool near the center.

A marble statue of a naked woman stood in the water, a crown of stars on her head, two curved daggers in hand, her expression one of icy fury. She looked as if she’d tear through the fabric of the universe with those nasty blades, and regret nothing of her actions.

An oversized serpent—twice the circumference of my upper arms—wound up her left ankle, slithered between her legs as it clung to the left calf and thigh, then coiled around her hips and rib cage. Its large head covered one breast while its tongue flicked out toward the other, not as if it were about to lick, but as if it were blocking it from the view of curious passersby.

I moved closer, entranced and a little horrified by it. The serpent’s body actually hid most of her private anatomy. A wicked protector of sorts. Its scales were carved with expert care, almost fooling one into thinking it had been real and turned to stone.

I circled the giant statue. Her hair, long and flowing, had little crescent moon–shaped flowers carved into the unbound locks. Near the bottom of her spine, a goddess symbol had been etched horizontally. I reached over to pet the serpent when a low, keening howl grumbled up from deep below the earth. I jerked back and connected with a wall of warm flesh.

Before fear registered or I had time to react, an arm with steel-like muscle snaked around my waist, tugging me close. A sharp dagger pressed into my side. I stilled, breathing as shallowly as possible. My assailant leaned in, their breath warm against my icy skin. Hair on the back of my neck rose.

“Hello, little thief.”

Envy.

I shoved my fear into the deepest part of my mind, far from where he could detect just how much he’d rattled me. “Attacking a member of House Wrath is foolish. And coming here without an invitation is doubly unwise. Even for you, your highness.”

“Stealing from a prince is punishable by death.” His low chuckle lacked any trace of humor. “But that’s not why I’m here, Shadow Witch.”

He dropped the dagger and released me so quickly I stumbled forward. I squared my shoulders and faced him, my expression cold and hard. “If you’ve come for the book of spells, your trip was wasted. It belongs to me.”

I’d meant to say it belonged to witches, but it felt like the truth when the words escaped my lips. Envy blinked slowly.

“Bold and brazen. Perhaps you’ve found those claws after all.” His attention slid over me and then to the statue. “Have you noticed anything odd lately? Perhaps something strange about your magic?”

“No.”

He flashed a quick grin. “We all sense lies, Emilia. Allow me to be blunt. You stole from me, but I stole right back from you. Tit for tat.”

“Nothing has been stolen from me.”

“There was a curse on the spell book. Anyone who removed it from my collection would lose something vital to them in return.”

Cold dread sluiced through my veins. I had not been able to dip into my source of magic since I’d come back from his royal house. “You’re lying.”

“Am I? Perhaps you ought to cast a truth spell on me.”

He sheathed his dagger and gave me another slow once-over as he waited. Even though I suspected it would be futile, I concentrated on that well of Source, trying to dip into it and draw enough magic to wipe him—and his smug expression—from this circle.

There was nothing but an impossibly thick wall where I’d once felt that slumbering beast. He sneered, as if the sight of me disgusted him.

“I didn’t think so. You, my dear, are no more than a mortal now.”

He turned and started walking away.

I marched after him, fuming. “You had no right to curse me.”

“And you had even less right to steal. I’d say we’re even.”

I thought of my plans to spell the wine at the Feast of the Wolf. I needed my powers back. That was nonnegotiable. “Fine. I’ll return the book. Wait here while I go get it.”

Envy stuck his hands in his pockets, considering the offer. “I replace this is a much more interesting turn of events. Keep the book. I’d much rather watch your plans crumble.”

“I’m willing to strike a bargain.”

“Too bad you didn’t think of that before. I might have been open to an agreement that would benefit us both. Now? Now I’ll enjoy watching fate run its course.”

I clamped my teeth together to keep from either cursing him, or begging him to reconsider. A faint wail drifted up from the bowels of the earth again. Goose bumps swiftly rose along my body. I turned to stare at the statue.

“I’d not become too curious about that, pet.”

“I told you not to call me—”

I faced Envy again, only to discover he was already gone. A wisp of glittering green and black smoke wafting around was the only indication he’d been there at all. I glanced back at the statue and listened to the cries of whatever was being tortured deep beneath it. It was mournful, hopeless. Brokenhearted. A sound that pierced through my emotional armor.

I wondered what was damned enough for Wrath to bury below his wicked House in the underworld, alone and miserable. Then I realized it must be more horrid than I could even fathom to receive that punishment. Wrath was a blade of justice, swift, unemotional, and brutal.

But he wasn’t cruel. Whatever was making that terrible cry…

I did not want to encounter it alone without magic. I hurried from the garden, the sounds of suffering still ringing in my ears long after I’d slipped between my sheets that night.

The next day, Fauna excitedly danced in place outside my door. Her knocks were as fast and light as a hummingbird’s wings. I opened the door and grinned. Her slippered feet moved as swiftly as she spun us around. “Invitations for the feast are arriving this week!”

My smile vanished. After Wrath’s devilish training session, I did not share her excitement. Honestly, I hadn’t been thrilled by the feast the first time he had told me about it, either. But now… now I found my gaze straying to the clock, jumping at every sound in the corridor. I was nowhere near being ready to withstand a demon prince’s influence. Not to mention, being without my magic was another obstacle I hadn’t anticipated.

Fauna seemed to think we wouldn’t hear about who was hosting for a few more days, but I had other suspicions. I had no base for the fears that kept growing, so I did my best to ignore the air of foreboding that settled over me like a storm cloud.

My friend called for tea and sweets and lounged in my receiving room with a book. I tried to relax the same way but was wound too tightly. After my encounter with Envy in the garden, I’d combed through books on magic, searching for a way to break a curse or hex.

It was complex—I’d either need the one who’d cast it to release me, or figure out the intricate structure of the curse; it was described in one grimoire as being similar to a series of magical threads woven together. I’d have to locate the source knot, then snip it. If I guessed wrong or undid the wrong knot, I could end up magically snipping the thread of life. And die.

The author of the book on hexes made sure to point that out several times, as if anyone could mistake the meaning of “snipping the thread of life.”

I’d briefly contemplated visiting the Matron of Curses and Poisons, but I’d still face the very real possibility of death if she didn’t locate the correct thread.

It was a gamble I was unwilling to try. At least not yet.

I wished Anir would show up and start our lesson early. The physical training would help burn off the excess nerves. And I desperately needed to rid myself of jitters.

Finally, late into the evening, a servant delivered the envelope I’d been dreading. There was no royal crest, no indication of what it contained, but I knew. My name and title were the only bit of writing on it. Indicating it was not just a note from the prince of this royal House.

I took the envelope from the servant with the same level of enthusiasm as if it were news of my execution. I used the slim dagger Wrath had gifted me and ran it along the upper edge, neatly cutting it open at the seam.

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO

House Gluttony

FOR THIS BLOOD SEASON’S

Feast of the Wolf.

GUEST OF HONOR:

LADY EMILIA DI CARLO, CURRENTLY OF HOUSE WRATH

If my heart pounded any harder, it might crack a rib. I’d been told I’d have a choice, even if ultimately I’d be encouraged to choose the hosting House. I couldn’t help but fear other rules would be tossed aside at the last minute, too.

I stared at the invitation, its elegance a severe contrast to the panic it induced. My being chosen as the guest of honor wasn’t a surprise; Wrath had already made it clear I’d likely be the unlucky one, but seeing it in black and white made the whole thing terribly real.

Especially the part about my greatest fear or a secret of my heart being forcibly wrenched from me in front of the entire assembly. With Wrath’s “lessons” and the mortification and horror they brought fresh in my mind, I felt as if I was going to be sick.

“What is it?” Fauna set her book aside. “Has his highness sent for you?”

“No.” I blew out a breath. “It’s the invitation to the Feast of the Wolf.”

“So soon?” She shot up from the divan, thrusting her hand out with excitement she couldn’t contain. “Who’s hosting this season?” I gave her the card and her mouth formed a perfect O of surprise as she scanned it. “House Gluttony. Interesting. His parties are legendary for their debauchery. Envy and Greed must have removed their requests to host.”

“I imagine the Prince of Gluttony’s got quite a bit of food.”

“Not only that. His House is indulgence on every level. Alcohol flows from fountains, clothing is optional in his twilight garden, and trysts are often done in glass rooms lining the ballroom. There is no such thing as clandestine in his world. All is available for consumption: flesh, food, drink, carnal desire, and any manner of vice. This should be quite an event. Did you already know he’d be hosting?”

“This is the first I’ve heard anything. Have you attended one of his parties?”

“No. Last time he hosted, I was too young. I’ve always been curious. Some of the stories have taken on a surreal, fablelike aura. It’s hard to know what’s real and what’s pure fantasy. Especially with what that writer printed about him in her latest royal exposé.”

“I imagine columnists have much inspiration.”

“Oh, they do, and she does in particular. She positively detests him. Rumor claims he ruined her cousin’s chance to marry into the nobility, which is why she took up the cursed pen. So much scandal!” She happily sighed, then drew her brows together as if a new thought suddenly rained on her sunny daydream. Her focus moved over the invitation once more. “What fear do you think will be wrenched from your heart?”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it will be horrible.”

“Maybe we can work on something that won’t be too awfully bad.”

“If only worrying about how to dance at a ball without stepping on toes and causing a scene was my biggest fear.”

My nerves about dancing weren’t exactly a lie. I’d never attended a royal ball or formal dance. We’d only danced at festivals with other people of our station. Everyone here would be watching, judging. It shouldn’t matter what they thought or if they laughed at me, but when I thought of standing there, feeling raw and exposed, my stomach clenched.

“You are a genius!” My friend slowly turned to me, her face splitting into a huge grin. “We can look into a spell or potion for you to take. We will make you the worst dancer in all the Seven Circles, worthy of your biggest fear.”

“Fauna,” I warned. “I was only teasing.”

“No, it could work. If you drank a potion to make that fear come to life in an out-of-proportion way, it’s even more likely to be wrenched from you while at a ball.”

“And if our ruse is discovered, what then?”

“We’ll just have to make sure we use an expert spell or potion.”

“Even so, the royals might sense treachery and lies.”

“We’ll simply need to practice to ensure it’s perfect.”

“There’s no need to worry about that because we’re not deceiving anyone, Fauna.”

“We should ask the Matron if she can—” Fauna dragged her attention away from the invitation and took in my expression. “Oh, angel blood. You look like you’re in need of a serious distraction. I have just the place in mind. Come. Let’s go at once.”

Without giving me a chance to object, she took my arm and raced us from my rooms, the invitation falling from her hand, forgotten for the moment. For her, at least.

Fear beat like a drum against my chest, the rhythm steady and unrelenting. And I suspected it would remain that way until the dreaded feast.

Fauna’s idea of a distraction couldn’t have been more fitting for me. She half-dragged me through the royal hallways, down several flights of stairs, into the servants’ corridor, and finally burst through the doors to a bustling kitchen. I stood there, drinking in the sights and sounds.

The kitchen was bursting with life as the staff prepared tonight’s dinner.

Several tables ran down the length of the room, with clusters of workers assigned to different tasks. Some were cutting vegetables, others carving meats, more kneading dough for breads and biscuits. Still more people stood over saucepans and skillets.

Tears threatened, but I choked them down. It would do no good to cry in front of the inner workings of House Wrath.

The cook ran his gaze over us, then nodded to a table near a wall of windows. They’d been thrown open, letting out warmth from the oven fires. “You may use anything you desire, Lady Emilia. If you don’t see something you need, simply ask.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank his highness. He instructed us to secure anything you wished.”

“Did he now?” Fauna barely hid her squeal as I walked deeper inside the room. “How unbelievably thoughtful. Wouldn’t you agree, Lady Emilia?”

“Indeed.”

I glanced around. It was nothing close to our small family restaurant—it was much larger and grand—but still, it felt like home. Against my better judgment, a wave of gratitude washed over me. Wrath had guessed I’d eventually replace my way here, to the one place in this realm that would feel familiar to me unlike any other.

I turned back to the head cook. “Thank you for letting me into your kitchen.”

The cook inclined his head, then marched back to bark orders at the line cooks.

Tension melted from my limbs as I opened the icebox and spied a basketful of plump berries. A tub of what suspiciously appeared to be ricotta sat beside them. My mother was the huge talent with dessert in our family, but I’d learned enough to make a rustic pie.

I gathered up all of my supplies and set up my station near the giant window. In moments I already had the pie crust dough sorted and mixed. The berries were quickly rinsed and set on a towel to dry, awaiting the sugar I’d toss them with. Perhaps I’d make custard, too.

Metal clanging on metal drew my attention up. Wrath and Anir darted back and forth outside the window, their swords and daggers clashing like thunder. I couldn’t help but gawk as they charged each other, whipping their weapons through the air. Sparks literally flying upon each contact their blades made.

I gave Fauna an accusatory look. “The kitchen wasn’t the only distraction you had in mind, I see.”

Her grin was too wide to be innocent. She hopped up onto the window’s ledge and snagged a pen and notepad, feigning interest in taking recipe notes as she peered over the pages and watched the two warriors do mock battle. They swung the swords above their heads, their powerful bodies heaving from the exertion of the heavy weapons and the training.

“I have no idea what you mean, my lady. I didn’t know they’d be here.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” I watched as she gazed at Anir, recalling the two of them chatting merrily before Makaden’s tongue removal. “How long have you been in love with him?”

She jerked her attention to mine. “Why would you think I cared for the mortal?”

“You mentioned pining for someone when we first met and haven’t stopped looking at him. I won’t pry if you prefer to keep it a secret now, but I like Anir.” I nodded to the dessert station I set up, giving her a way to evade the topic. “Don’t be afraid to pick up the rolling pin and help. It doesn’t have teeth.”

She giggled behind her notepad. “Perhaps not, but have you seen the way the prince is looking at you? It’s his bite you need to watch out for.”

I rolled the dough for the crust with singular focus. I was doing everything in my power to not look at him. Of all the places in the entire castle, he simply had to choose this moment to train, in sleeveless leather armor, directly outside the kitchens.

Though I supposed Fauna was equally to blame for this so-called unexpected meeting.

“He’s got a sweet tooth,” I said, realizing she was still waiting for a response. “He’s likely looking at the pie.”

“Dessert isn’t the only thing he looks hungry for, my lady. I wish Anir would gaze upon me with such longing.”

“Pursue him.”

“Trust me, if he gave any indication he’d be open to my advances, I would pounce. His highness currently seems to be experiencing the same dilemma.”

My fiendish attention slid to the window. Torchlight glistened off a sheen of sweat Wrath had worked up wielding his sword. Our gazes clashed in time with the metal of Anir’s blade. Fauna was right. Wrath looked like he was working off the magic of our bond. And was losing the battle. He didn’t bother hiding his attention.

I promptly went back to rolling the dough, using more concentration than was required.

I could not forget the feeling of the blade sliding into his flesh. I set the rolling pin aside and started on the custard, forcing the silent crunch of bone from my thoughts.

“If I may speak freely, it’s no small favor he’s granted you.”

“What favor?”

“Not insisting you finish the marriage bond. It’s all anyone’s been talking about.”

I hoped the flush in my cheeks would be mistaken for the warmth of the kitchen. How fabulous. The entire court was gossiping about us bedding each other. “This realm certainly needs to learn the difference between choices and favors.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Some might argue that you did make a choice, the night you started the betrothal. That he was the one without true choice.”

“I replace it hard to believe Wrath is tolerant of his court discussing our personal business.”

“Your potential position as the princess of this circle is everyone’s business.”

“I—”

“No one blames you, my lady. It’s just… having a co-ruler grants more power to the royals. It secures us from any bored princes in other Houses. Ones who like to stir up trouble on occasion. Princes are immortal, and while most demons live extremely long lives, we are not. Most in the court worry if war comes, our prince will not do all he can for the good of our realm. There are whispers that he may be weakening.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I scoffed. “He is the most powerful prince I’ve met.”

“His power isn’t in question, only his heart. He can seduce you easily enough. Use his influence if necessary. And yet he’s giving you time to decide for yourself.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m having trouble understanding how that is such a foreign concept. Do people in the court really believe he should force me into our marriage? Or bed me against my will? There are laws in the mortal world about that disgusting act.”

“I was not speaking of rape, my lady. That is not tolerated here without Wrath ending the life of the one who dares to take another against their will.” Fauna looked me over. “Don’t appear so shocked. The Seven Circles may be governed by sin, but there are some acts too depraved even for our realm. Punishment for rape is death. Dealt by Wrath’s hand. Other courts favor castration. I promise, if a prince decided to seduce you, especially our prince, you would choose to be in his bed of your own accord.”

“And the court is wondering why he isn’t trying to tempt me?”

“Amongst other things.” She lifted a shoulder as I stopped making the custard and stared. “Consider this. If one cuff is frayed on his suit, it sets the courts talking. They believe if a prince cannot be in control of something as simple as his clothing, there is no hope of him caring about those who live in this circle.”

“They must have entirely too much idle time if they’re gossiping about loose threads.”

“It’s never really about the clothing. It’s about the underlying meaning behind why the prince would not pay enough attention to, or care about such small details.”

I thought back to how affronted Wrath had been when I’d brought him that old shirt from the marketplace. I’d thought he was simply arrogant and unused to peasant clothing. Now I knew it ran much deeper—if anyone from this realm had seen him, they’d call his rule into question.

“A distracted ruler is dangerous, Emilia. It signals weakness. It makes the denizens aligned with that House of Sin question if they should seek new alliances.”

And the princes of Hell all coveted power. Wrath must want to complete the bond very badly. But he’d give up the security of his House, the added power, the rumors in court, all so I could have the one thing he coveted above all else: choice.

“He mentioned something about a ceremony also being required. If we…” I drew in a deep breath. “If we were to—”

“—make sweet, passionate, lust-filled love?” Fauna supplied, her face innocent. “Ravage each other until the early morning hours? Scream each other’s names as he bends you over and slams his—”

“—yes. That. Our marriage wouldn’t be complete until the ceremony was also performed, correct?”

“Correct.”

Fauna smiled as if she’d been privy to the direction my thoughts had journeyed. “Whatever may have transpired between you in the past, do not doubt him now. He must respect you enough to damn his own court. No matter how fleeting.”

I noticed she hadn’t said anything about him caring about or loving me. I wondered if having a husband who respected me would make up for the absence of the other two. Maybe I belonged in House Greed. I didn’t think I’d settle for a marriage that did not contain all three.

More troublesome yet… I wasn’t sure when I’d started considering taking Wrath as my husband. I was already in the underworld. I would soon meet each prince and have an opportunity to learn some of their secrets. I did not need to marry. And no matter what my feelings might be now, I would not give my family up for anyone. As long as I focused on that, all of my romantic notions would fade away.

Hopefully.

A note scrawled in Wrath’s hand arrived later that night.

Training begins at midnight.

Wear the crimson gown.

—W.

I considered ignoring his request, or choosing a pair of trousers and blouse just to prove he neither commanded nor owned me. But acting out of spite wasn’t the road I wanted to travel.

No matter how satisfying it would be to see the glimmer of incredulity on the demanding demon’s face, his lessons would ultimately benefit me.

And I would take every advantage I could get my hands on now. The Feast of the Wolf was quickly approaching, and I would be ready to meet the demons on their playing field and crush them at their own game. In the most well-dressed, backstabbing way imaginable.

With a sigh, I fed the note to the flames and went to dress for my training date with Wrath.