Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked Book 2)
Kingdom of the Cursed: CHAPTER 27

The Prince of Gluttony was not at all what I expected. He wasn’t perched on a throne, or giving off the appearance of cool boredom, or exuding royal arrogance. There wasn’t anything particularly dangerous looking about him, either. Except for the threat he posed to hearts.

He stood, arms full of buxom ladies, near a fountain of spirits, a secret smile pulling at the corners of a luscious mouth. The prince leaned in to whisper something in each of his companions’ ears, their laughter sultry and filled with wicked promises.

I arched a brow as he took turns nibbling at their necks. He was a rake through and through. And he seemed adored for it.

He was not quite as tall as Wrath, but his shoulders were broad, his hips narrow, and the width of his thighs suggested a fit body hidden beneath his blackberry-colored suit.

His slightly ruffled brown hair had strands of gold and red in certain light, though the darkness never relinquished its hold for long. He wore a bronze crown, fitted with multicolored gemstones. Gluttony’s hazel eyes were a mixture of brilliant shades of green and gold and brown. All vying for dominance, all indulging in their own beauty.

And they were now trained on where Wrath and I stood. One brow quirked up.

“Brother! Come meet my newest friends, Drusilla and Lucinda. They were just telling me the most interesting story.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Wrath’s lack of decorum didn’t seem to surprise anyone but me. He placed a hand at the small of my back. “My wife, Emilia di Carlo.”

Gluttony’s attention shifted to me. His nose looked as if it had been broken once or twice, but that imperfection only succeeded in making him more interesting. His gaze raked over me and a spark of mischief flared. “Soon-to-be wife, from what I understand.”

“Actually,” I cut in, “I haven’t decided to accept the bond.”

“Hear that, brother?” Gluttony stepped away from his companions and tossed an arm around Wrath’s shoulders. “There’s hope for me yet.”

“Breathe in her direction without her expressed permission, and she will disembowel you.” Wrath swiped a glass of demonberry wine from a passing tray and sipped it, the picture of casual elegance. “I’ve already requested that she refrain from violence for our visit, but if I were you, I wouldn’t tempt her fury.”

The brothers exchanged a long look. Wrath had basically come in and set his own rules at his brother’s royal court. Just as he’d done in Envy’s House of Sin. It was a wonder that Gluttony didn’t so much as lift a brow at Wrath’s impertinence. “You’re a violent little vixen, then?”

“I have my moments, your highness.”

His laugh was full and rich.

“Explains how you’ve captured this one’s attention.” He leaned in and spoke in a mock whisper, his tone serious, as if sharing a grave secret. “Wrath has an unquenchable taste for fury. Though he never overindulges in it. Much to everyone’s dismay.” Wrath did not return his brother’s smile, which only succeeded in delighting the prince of this circle more. “Perhaps you will surprise us all, dear brother. This may be the year you let loose after all. Live down to our expectations. Gorge yourself on some fun for once.”

“Be grateful I limit my idea of fun, brother.”

“Well, the hunt begins at dawn, so you can saddle up a hell horse and unleash your warrior spirit then.” He glanced to me, troublesome smirk in place. “You, too, Lady Emilia. Let us see if you’re equally inspired by bloodlust.”

“I don’t ride.”

“No?” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Then I shall stay and keep you company. While they’re getting into trouble, I’m sure we can replace some of our own.”

Whatever levity Gluttony had been feeling was gone in an instant, replaced by an icy glare. I followed the direction of his gaze, surprised to replace the object of his loathing was a beautiful, prim noblewoman. Her pale blue hair was coiffed in the style of proper English ladies and her elegant dress buttoned up to her neck.

She wore kidskin gloves that ended past her elbows and an expression of revulsion as she spied the host, her gaze cutting from across the room. She leaned next to her companion and whispered something that sent the other noblewoman tittering.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Gluttony’s mood darkened further. “There’s a party crasher in our midst.”

Without uttering another word, Gluttony strode off toward the giggling ladies.

I turned to Wrath. “What was that about?”

“She’s a journalist from the Shifting Isles. And she rarely has anything flattering to say about the royals in this realm. She’s been particularly vicious with Gluttony.”

I thought back to the lovers on the table. “She doesn’t enjoy his displays of overindulgence, I take it.”

“On the contrary.” Wrath’s mouth edged up on one side. “She called his last gathering ‘perfectly ordinary and utterly contrived. A predictable, uninspired evening.’”

“I cannot believe you memorized that.”

“My brother quoted it so often, it stuck. Gluttony was furious. He has since thrown the most lavish, over-the-top, debauched parties he can.”

“He wants her to eat her words.”

“Amongst other things, no doubt.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Hate is a powerful aphrodisiac for some.”

“Indeed. It is.” Wrath’s attention briefly fell to my lips. “Would you like to tour the pleasure gardens or settle into your rooms?”

I recalled what Fauna had said about the twilight gardens and my stomach did a nervous flip. If Wrath and I snuck off now, I would miss the opportunity to meet the rest of his family.

Not to mention, I wasn’t sure being alone with him where seduction was being served for public consumption was a wise idea.

As if he’d plucked the thought from my mind, he added quietly, “Pride will make his grand entrance at the masked ball tomorrow. Sloth will slip in right before the fear ceremony. Greed and Envy will arrive fashionably late this evening.”

“And Lust?”

“I imagine he’s here and is indulging. While he tends to siphon feelings of happiness to enhance his power, he does participate in carnal temptations when they’re offered to him. These parties tend to feed his sin on multiple levels.”

I glanced toward the veranda, where a set of doors were thrown open and a cold breeze blew snowflakes in from the patio beyond. Tiny flickering silver orbs floated in the darkness.

Going to my bedchamber was the best decision, yet I found myself saying, “Let’s take a quick stroll through the garden.”

Unsurprisingly, Gluttony’s idea of a pleasure garden was quite literal. We walked past lovers barely hidden in the shadows, the sounds of their bare skin slapping against each other and breathy moans created a strangely haunting symphony. I did my best to keep my attention fixed on the torchlit path in front of us, not daring to seek out writhing shadows near the hedges.

Wrath, as always, seemed unaffected.

“Have you toured the gardens before?” I immediately wished I hadn’t asked.

“Yes.” He gave me a sidelong glance. “I always survey the grounds to ensure there’s no hidden threat.”

Almost on command, a woman screamed her lover’s name.

“Of course.” I rolled my eyes. “It certainly sounds as if there’s danger here.”

“Hidden armies, unwelcome guests, clandestine meetings between scheming Houses.” Wrath leaned close and dropped his voice. “A lot can happen in the dark, my lady.”

“He’s not wrong.” The Prince of Lust’s grin bordered on feline as he stepped into our path and stretched his arms above his head, exposing a sliver of golden skin above his trousers. His charcoal eyes drank me in, then spit me out with disinterest. “Hello again, little darling.”

“Lust.” Despite the inner voice urging me to run, I held my ground. All of my senses heightened as I waited for that first lick of his soul-crushing influence. “I would say it’s nice to see you again, but…”

I lifted a shoulder, letting the rest go unsaid.

“I will have to remedy that. Later.” He turned to his brother. There was no anger or glint of retribution in his expression. As far as I was aware, the last time they saw each other, Wrath had stuck a dagger in his chest. “I need a word. Privately.”

Wrath hesitated before nodding once. He turned to me. “I’ll stop by your chamber later. Unless you’d like me to escort you there now.”

“No.” I shook my head, grateful for the excuse to leave Lust and his troublesome influence. “I’m sure I’ll replace my own way back.”

Wrath nodded, but didn’t move to follow his brother. I felt his gaze on me until I turned the corner. Halfway down the next path, a servant appeared. Wrath, no doubt, had managed to arrange our meeting. “Lady Emilia, if you’ll follow me. I can show you to your chambers.”

After settling into my well-appointed room—all cobalt blue, silver, and dripping in an overabundance of luxury—I waited, perched on the edge of my bed, for what felt like hours. Straining to hear Wrath’s light knock at my door.

It never came.

At first I worried Lust had struck him, vengeance for what had occurred between them in Palermo. Then a new worry slipped in. We were staying in a House filled with debauchery. If Wrath hadn’t made it to his bed, I wondered if that meant he’d tumbled into someone else’s.

SilverFrost Garden,
southeast tower, dawn.

Wear something to die for.
And come masked.

I stared down at the note that arrived well past midnight. Cobalt blue paper inked with platinum—the parchment thick and luxurious.

There was no indication who the sender was, what I’d replace if I accepted the invitation, or what manner of mischief I might be inviting into my already complicated world. The handwriting didn’t belong to Wrath, who still hadn’t shown up.

Given the rich indulgence of the paper and ink, I imagined it was penned by Gluttony, but there was always a chance one of the other princes in attendance had sent it along.

Wearing something “to die for” might not be a demonic euphemism.

I carefully considered my options. I could ignore it. That was certainly the safest route. After the assassination attempt at House Wrath, it wasn’t a stretch to believe it was a trap.

With everyone meeting at dawn to start the hunt, I’d be alone and vulnerable. Whoever sent it must know I’d chosen not to ride out with the group.

And the only person who knew that—aside from Wrath—was Gluttony.

If my attire mattered, it might indicate a clandestine party. One where masks were required to keep anonymity of the attendees. A mysterious event hosted in the underworld, by an unknown source, was not the typical gathering I’d ever considered.

But now… I exhaled. Now I couldn’t decline something that might present an opportunity for me to interrogate a prince of Hell without Wrath chaperoning.

I flipped the card over, end by end, thinking. Just because I’d been asked to meet at the SilverFrost Garden did not mean that’s where I had to show up. At least not initially.

A plan slowly came together in my mind. There was an expansive veranda outside the southeast tower ballroom with a grand staircase that led to the gardens. I’d arrive early and wait in one of the darkened corners there. I swung myself out of bed and quickly dressed in a gown made of shadows.

Gluttony strolled onto the empty veranda, a knuckle’s worth of liquor poured into a crystal glass. A decanter was tucked beneath his other arm. I would claim it was too early to drink, but he didn’t appear to have made it to bed. There was a mussed quality to his hair, a slight wrinkle in his suit. As if his bedmate had kept him occupied all night and well into the morning. He played the role of a debauched rake to perfection.

He took a healthy swig from his glass. All princes seemed to enjoy their alcohol the same, though the quantities in which they indulged differed.

I pressed myself deeper into the shadows and watched his approach through lowered lashes, holding my breath to avoid detection. As if the slightest inhalation would give me away.

“I can’t decide if I’m amused or insulted.”

My entire body tensed at having been discovered so quickly. I reached for my dagger, relaxing once I felt its familiar weight in my grip. I stepped into the watery predawn light.

There was no use hiding now.

I waited in silence for him to continue. Clearly he desired this meeting alone. He might as well dazzle me with whatever speech he’d prepared.

He leaned over the stone railing, surveying the decadent garden below. Silver flowers coated in frost glistened like diamonds. “Perhaps your strategy will work famously.”

“What strategy?”

“Winning the hunt. In five minutes, the whole of the castle will come charging out of the stables.” He set his drink on the wide railing before him, then motioned to the dark roof in the distance. Snow-covered hills rolled into an evergreen forest. “People rarely notice what’s in front of them, especially when they expect to replace something else.”

“I’m not sure I follow your meaning.”

He slowly twisted to look at me, his expression a study of false chagrin. “I may have left out a few important details in the note. Like the prize for winning the hunt.”

I kept the trepidation off my face. I didn’t think it was anything more than typical country sport. “I was unaware that there was a prize.”

“Prize. Prey. Some might argue they are one and the same.” His grin was carved of wicked intent. “The host chooses the prey each Blood Season. Participants only learn what they’re looking for in the stables, right before the hunt begins.”

My blood turned cold. “Wrath said there was no sacrifice involved during any portion of the three-day event.”

“I never said anything about a sacrifice. I just said someone or something will be hunted.” He studied me closer than I would have thought possible, considering how much he’d had to drink. “No one kills the chosen prey.” He winked. “We’re not total monsters.”

“Why did you want me masked?”

“To see if you’d indulge me.” He lifted a shoulder and dropped it. As if that were all the reason anyone needed. I was glad I’d decided against wearing a mask. “Has anyone told you why it’s called a Blood Season?”

“No, but I’m sure it will be a delightful story.”

“If a lesser demon or noble wins the hunt, they have the option to drink the elixir of life.”

“Blood.”

My stomach flipped as Gluttony nodded. Nonna used to tell us the Wicked drank blood. Now I knew where that rumor had come from. “What if a royal wins?”

“We have the option to claim our own prize, if at least four of us vote in favor of it. But drinking the elixir of life is not the only reason we call it a Blood Season. The winner of the hunt is decided by whoever draws first blood. Participants choose how much to spill, and how they spill it. Claws, blades, arrows, teeth.” His gaze turned back to the stables. A gunshot rent the air, startling me. “Ah, yes. They’ve found the ice rifles. If I were you, I’d consider joining the hunt now.”

“I told you, I don’t ride.”

“A shame. This year they’re hunting an ice dragon. Majestic, violent, creatures.” He tore his attention away from the building in the distance and looked at me again. “And as for riding, I’d reconsider. I’ve found that sometimes our bodies recall what our minds do not.”

Gluttony inclined his head, then strode back into his castle, leaving me to contemplate his parting words. A second shot cracked like thunder and the sound of a stampede followed, the ground rumbling beneath my feet. Something stirred in my blood.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I hiked up my skirts and raced toward the stables.