Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked Book 2)
Kingdom of the Cursed: CHAPTER 26

Snowflakes danced wickedly outside my window.

Frost crept up the panes like wintery vines. I sat on the wide sill, staring out at a world blanketed in a fresh layer of snow. Night was quickly falling, tinging everything deep shades of blue. Two days had come and gone since I last saw the prince of this circle. I’d been avoiding him after the vision, still unsure if it was memory or fantasy. It had to be something the realm conjured, but it felt so real it was difficult to shake off. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The Matron of Curses and Poisons hadn’t yet returned, and I did not want to confide in anyone what I’d seen or experienced. I’d been hoping she could create a tonic or might know of any magic that would unlock the truth hidden inside me.

If it had been a memory, then I’d been to this realm before. And Wrath and I… I couldn’t fathom how he’d pretended to not know me back in Palermo. There were times there, though, I wondered how he knew details I hadn’t shared. Like where I lived. My name. I’d comforted myself by thinking it had something to do with what I’d thought was his rebirth spell—that night I’d been attacked by the Viperidae, we’d been inside each other’s minds for brief seconds.

Was that what was happening now? It was possible I was seeing into his memories, witnessing him with someone else. Maybe I was experiencing the world through her eyes, reliving her memories. I knew demons could possess people, but I’d never heard of a witch doing the same. At this point, nothing would surprise me.

I’d spent the better part of the last two days trying to decipher all possible meanings. No theory was too silly. I wrote everything down. From thinking Wrath might be Pride, to considering if I was the First Witch, cursed to forget as punishment for what I’d done.

After a while, details started to blur, confusing me more. I couldn’t recall if I’d seen Wrath’s face, or if it was just an impression I’d had of him.

I remembered the room being dark in the vision, the sounds of a distant party, but couldn’t remember the sound of my lover’s voice. If he’d sworn loudly when he found his release, or if it had been a murmur. And if it wasn’t Wrath with me in the vision…

I exhaled, my breath creating clouds on the windowpane. That complicated matters even more. When I arrived at the feast tonight, I might recognize the lover from that memory. If we danced together, would that unlock other memories that had been secreted away?

I slipped from the window’s edge and leafed through the notes I’d made from the enchanted skulls. Past, present, future, find. I’d thought it was referencing the Triple Moon Mirror Envy was after. Now I wondered if it encompassed more than that.

Were those visions part of my past, or my future? If they were images of the future, perhaps it related to the prophecy. The part where I could set right a terrible wrong.

When I’d been under Lust’s influence, I’d had that impression of choice, balance. That I could damn everyone, or make something right. But what?

I kept circling back to the devil’s slain bride. Could falling in love be the key to breaking the curse? On the surface it seemed simple. But it wasn’t. I’d need to fall madly in love with Pride. And to accomplish that, I’d have to end my betrothal to Wrath for good.

“Goddess help me, this is a disaster.”

Pride would be at the feast. If he’d been the mysterious lover in my vision, and if it was part of the past and not the future, it was entirely possible neither one of us would be able to deny the sizzling connection in person. Which frightened me.

If it was the past I saw… then that would mean I was already Pride’s wife. Maybe to break the curse I had to fall in love with him all over again, without any memories of us.

A theory so outlandish, it just might be true. Which could be the real reason Pride hadn’t invited me to his circle. Maybe it went deeper than my accidental betrothal to Wrath.

Without knowing what I’d done, maybe I’d broken Pride’s heart and damned them all by choosing the wrong brother. It would also explain Wrath’s hatred when I first summoned him and he demanded I reverse the spell before it was too late.

A knock on my outer door drew me from my reverie. “Come in.”

Harlow bobbed a quick curtsy, then held a dress bag aloft. “The cobbler will have your shoes ready shortly. Did you want me to lay out the gown for you?”

“Please.”

Through all of my worries, I’d completely lost track of time. We’d be traveling to House Gluttony within the hour. This evening marked the first of three nights dedicated to the Feast of the Wolf, an event I’d rather avoid if not for the potential information I could gather. Thinking about having my greatest fear ripped from me caused my heart rate to triple, though.

At first I’d been worried my greatest fear was my secret mission of vengeance being revealed. Now it could be my fear about the creature wailing below the statue, my family dying at the hands of our enemies, my magic never returning, or the possibility that my memories had been stolen and the life I’d been living was all a lie.

The biggest fear of all kept circling like a portent of death and doom.

I couldn’t stop thinking that I was the devil’s bride and I hadn’t been murdered—I’d been cursed to forget. My palms dampened. There was no possible way that was true.

Still, the thought haunted me the entire time I prepared for tonight’s opening event. True or not, if I couldn’t shove the fear aside; it would be revealed to each of my enemies and their subjects. Not only would it be humiliating, it would indicate I had not left the past behind when I’d sold my soul and was actively working to destroy one of them.

If the demon princes were suspicious of my motivations for coming here before, they’d have those thoughts confirmed. And I didn’t want to know what they’d do for retribution.

I descended the stairs, shoulders back, head held high. I’d been expecting to see Fauna and Anir. Instead the Prince of Wrath waited, dressed to devastate, his attention riveted to mine. I hadn’t chosen to wear one of his signature House colors. Not that he seemed put off by the crushed red velvet gown, or the way it clung to my curves before pooling around my feet.

In fact, I almost missed a step when I noticed the color of his shirt. A deep, enticing cranberry peeked out from the layers of black waistcoat and swallowtail suit jacket. Either Harlow or the seamstress must have given him information on my attire.

I reached the bottom step and slowly pivoted in place. My shoes were the same snake design from a few nights before, but these were deep gold instead of black. It was the one tribute I made to my current House of Sin. Regardless of if any of my theories were correct, in this reality, in this version of myself, this was where I felt comfortable. There was no use denying that I aligned with the sin of wrath more than any other.

“Well?” I prompted. “How do I look?”

Wrath’s gaze darkened into a shadow of sinful promise. “I suspect you know.”

“Indulge me, then.”

“Trouble incarnate.”

“Mighty praise coming from one of the Wicked.” I glanced around the empty foyer. Silence stretched between us, which didn’t help to soothe my growing nerves. The more I tried not to focus on my theories, the more they haunted me. “Where are Fauna and Anir?”

“By now they’re nearly at Gluttony’s already.”

“Who else will be joining us?”

“No one.” He held out his arm for me. I wondered if he knew he also looked like trouble. And temptation. But if Pride was the man from my vision, Wrath might also look like a fond memory before the night was through. Something pinched in my center at the thought. “Tonight we’ll use my carriage. It’s considered rude to arrive at the Feast by transvenio magic.”

I accepted his arm and we made our way out of the looming set of double doors.

Outside, our conveyance sat waiting, bits of snow sticking to the roof like powdered sugar. Wrath’s carriage was darker than the night with flecks of gold in the lacquered finish. There was no driver waiting, only horses.

“Will you be driving the carriage?”

“No. My power will guide it.”

“Transvenio magic is rude, but steering a carriage with magic is not?” I shook my head. “I may live a thousand years and will never understand these ridiculous demon rules.”

The four ebony steeds snuffed the air, their red eyes the only mark that they were not quite the same as horses in the mortal world. Wrath set about checking their bridles, tsking a little when one of the hell horses nibbled at him.

I drew in a quick breath. I’d been wrong. Their eyes weren’t the only thing that marked them as different. Their gleaming, metal teeth indicated they were more predator than simple equine. The hell horse nipped again, more insistently.

“Gentle, Death.”

“Goddess give me strength.” I eyed the three other beasts. “Famine, Pestilence, and War, I presume.” Wrath’s grin was confirmation enough as he glanced over his shoulder. “I cannot believe you named them after the four horsemen, and yet I’m not terribly surprised.”

He strolled over to where I waited, then handed me up into the carriage. “Perhaps they aren’t merely named after them.”

Wrath settled onto the plush velvet bench seat across from me, his expression smug as I let that information sink in. With a quick rap on the ceiling, we were off.

The wheels clattered across the stone, but the sound and jarring feeling was muffled by the well-stuffed seating and plush, layered carpets. I’d never ridden inside such an opulent conveyance. I’d never ridden in a shabby one, either. Before my ride with the emissary, the closest I’d ever come to traveling via carriage was a horse-drawn buggy.

I drew my brows together. That couldn’t be correct… after disembarking from a ship, we had to travel by carriage to visit Nonna’s friend in northern Italy. Except I couldn’t quite remember how we’d gotten there.

Wrath studied me. “You appear as if you’re in the midst of a vexing riddle.”

I lifted a shoulder. “I suppose it’s mostly nerves.”

“About the fear portion of the festival?”

“The fear, the whole ordeal. Meeting the rest of your brothers. Dancing.”

He was silent for a while. I doubted he’d expected such honesty and was unsure of how to proceed. Finally, he shifted forward. “No harm will befall you. I will not allow it.”

“Perhaps it’s your brothers you should be concerned for.”

“If they are stupid enough to ignite your fury, they deserve to feel the burn.”

I smiled at him. “And yet you still toss matches onto the kerosene all the time.”

“Wrath and fury are my sins of choice. I like your temper.”

After an indeterminate amount of time of descending and ascending a few mountain peaks, our carriage abruptly came to a halt. Wrath peered outside, his expression once again carefully set into that cold, unforgiving mask.

“We’re here.” He reached for the handle, then paused. His muscles were tense beneath his well-tailored suit. He shook his head once, then looked at me. “Should you find yourself in need of a partner, I will dance with you.”

Before I could react, he shoved the door open and exited the carriage. His hand appeared from the shadows, waiting for mine. I gave myself a moment to gather my emotions. I hadn’t lied to Wrath about the cause of my nerves, but I hadn’t expressed all of the reasons behind my pounding heart. I would now have an opportunity to speak with every demon prince of Hell. And one of them, quite possibly, had orchestrated my sister’s murder.

Much would either be gained or lost over the next few days. And, if my sister’s murderer was here, there was no telling if he’d try to rip my heart from my chest, too.

If I was about to enter into a battle for my life, at least I had Wrath at my side.

His fingers tightened on mine as I stepped from the carriage and took in House Gluttony. It was massive, if unusual in design. A cross between open Roman terraces with tall arched windows and medieval towers. It was built into the side of a steep mountaintop and looked like something out of a gothic fairy tale.

“Prepare yourself.” Wrath escorted me up a small flight of stairs and stopped just outside the castle’s grand entrance. “My brother’s debauchery knows no limits.”

Words failed me as we walked inside House Gluttony. The prince of this circle did not hide his namesake sin or vices. Immediately upon entering the palatial receiving foyer, we were greeted by the most scandalous scene I’d ever borne witness to.

A table the size of four oversized mattresses was prominently on display, forcing guests to squeeze around it if they were to enter the castle beyond. The table was not covered in food or wine. It was covered in lovers. Some were engaged in acts I’d never dreamed of.

On one end, a woman lay naked, her legs spread wide as a man poured a trail of chocolate sauce over her breasts, down her stomach, and across the apex of her body. He tossed the jug aside, dropped to his knees and began feasting. There was no romance, no seduction. Only pure, animalistic hunger. Not that the woman seemed to mind.

My attention darted to the opposite end of the table, where a young man lay with an arm bent behind his head, watching as his partner sucked whipped cream from his arousal, and another lover entered her from where she was bent over. My face flamed at the erotic scene.

Before I’d learned that Pride wasn’t my intended, Wrath had mentioned his brother inviting lovers into our bed. I now understood what he meant. I also knew with vivid clarity what Fauna had been asking when she’d inquired about taking my mouth to Wrath.

“My brother enjoys shocking guests upon their arrival.” Wrath’s low voice at my ear sent a shiver skittering along my spine. “His subjects are all too happy to participate in his favorite vices. The lovers here want to be seen. They desire for us to overindulge in their pleasure. Our attention feeds them as their trysts feed us. It will not be this way throughout the entire House.”

Wrath’s hand on my back did not uproot my feet from where I’d planted them. “Will Gluttony’s influence make me do that? In front of everyone?”

Wrath followed my gaze, his own expression inscrutable. “No.”

I subtly studied the demon at my side. He was completely unaffected by all of the naked bodies and grunts and groans. He might be gazing upon furniture, noting it was there to sit upon, but worth no more than a cursory glance. The same could not be said for me. I tore my attention from where the man was licking and sucking with fevered abandon.

“How can you be sure? Lust managed to influence me. As did Envy. I’m sure your brother can make me do whatever he pleases with whomever he pleases I do it. Maybe our lessons weren’t enough. Maybe—”

“Breathe. No one will touch you while we’re here, Emilia. It would be an act of war and we’re all gathered with the understanding of temporary peace. You belong to House Wrath. If they forget, I will take pleasure in reminding them.”

One look into his harsh features drove his promise home. I had little doubt this prince would tear someone limb from limb if they laid a finger on me without my consent. I wanted that power. I wanted to know safety at my own hand and almost swore I had once upon a time. Perhaps that was why I’d felt so envious when I’d first met Envy and he’d used his influence on me. I longed for the power to defend myself and my loved ones.

My focus drifted back to where the man knelt between the woman’s thighs. He worked her now with mouth and hand. A female lover moved to her chest, adding more whipped cream and licking her skin clean before adding another dollop.

Gluttony wished to shock his guests, to unnerve them. Except most were from this realm and had likely witnessed much more debauchery. No, this tableau was not for all of his guests. This was for me. To unsettle the mortal guest of honor long before I entered his ballroom.

And he’d almost succeeded.

Nakedness, people seeking sexual pleasure, no matter how much I kept trying to move past it, the mortal way of thinking of them as wrong and shameful kept creeping back in. They kept shocking and embarrassing me because deep down, I still worried about being ruined by human notions of scandal. Most of all, I kept worrying about what others would think.

Enough. I’d had enough of falling back into old fears. I strode over to the table and dipped my finger into a bowl of whipped cream, then slowly turned to Wrath as I licked it off. There wasn’t anything in his expression now that spoke of boredom or disinterest. He tracked each movement as if committing it to memory.

A waiter appeared, holding a tray of champagne flutes.

I gave Wrath a small, devious smile and snagged a glass of sparkling demonberry wine. “Cheers to being scandalized.”

Without waiting for his response, I rotated and walked past the table of lovers.

When I entered the Feast of the Wolf and the herald called out my name, I’d convinced myself I was the most fearsome one in the room.

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