Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked Book 2)

I took a loaf of bread from a tray of freshly baked offerings and brought it to my oversized wooden cutting board. Two heads of garlic, a generous portion of basil, pecorino, pignoli, and olive oil all joined my station. The cook was just finishing up when I’d arrived and informed me that Wrath had the ingredients brought in from the mortal world for me.

Apparently, he’d also had seeds purchased and planted in the castle’s greenhouse so I’d have all my familiar herbs and vegetables at my disposal. A touch of magic helped them along, according to the cook, and there was a veritable bounty awaiting me whenever I’d like to tour the indoor garden. I rooted around in the icebox and pulled out a hunk of what tasted like goat cheese, then donned an apron I’d found hanging on a peg with an army of clean linens.

Cooking relaxed me. When I was in a kitchen my problems faded away. There was only me and a dish, the scents and sounds and satisfaction of creating something nurturing and delicious overtaking all else. There were no murders. No lost loved ones. No liars or secret keepers. I knew nothing of assassination attempts or marriages brought about by a spell gone wrong. I felt joy, peace. And serenity was something I desperately needed at the moment.

I cut off the top of one head of garlic, exposing all of the cloves, drizzled olive oil over them, covered it with a tin can, then placed it in the oven to roast. I turned my attention to the basil, pine nuts, garlic, and olive oil.

Chopping, mixing, pouring all of my love and energy into the sauce, erasing the rest of the night from my thoughts. It wasn’t denial, only a brief respite I sought.

I’d just finished making pesto when I felt his presence. I continued working, waiting for him to speak. I didn’t know whether I was eager for him to have found my attacker, or if I suddenly wanted to pretend the night hadn’t happened at all. When several moments passed, I finally glanced up. “Is there something you needed to tell me?”

Wrath leaned against the end of the table I worked at, his arms and feet crossed. The picture of casual calm. I noticed he’d changed into a new shirt and his hair was slightly damp. “There is little I need. But much I want.”

“I’m not going back to that room tonight.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” He straightened and moved to my side, nodding at the loaf of bread. “May I help?”

I peered at him from the corner of my eye. “There’s not much left to do, but you can pour us some wine. Red would be nice.”

“Red it is.”

He left and returned a breath later, bottle and glasses in hand. He rummaged in the icebox and brought over a container of blackberries. After uncorking the bottle, he added a few berries to each glass, then set mine next to where I sliced bread.

I laid the bread slices on a baking sheet and drizzled olive oil across the tops. I set them inside the oven and adjusted the little timer before taking a sip of wine. Wrath clinked his glass against mine, his gaze content. “May we always feast after spilling the blood of our enemies.”

I smiled at him over my glass. “You’re a barbarian.”

“You defended yourself. If being proud makes me a barbarian, so be it.”

“Do you think I killed him?”

He swirled the liquid in his glass, his attention riveted to it. “Would it matter if you did?”

“Of course it matters. I don’t want to be a murderer.”

“Defending yourself is not the same as attacking without cause or reason.”

“Which, by your refusal to answer, I’m assuming means I did.”

“You do not bear the burden of that demon’s death, Emilia.” Wrath set his glass down and faced me, his expression hard. “I do.” The smile that tipped up the edges of his mouth was not warm or friendly. It was cold, calculating. Designed to frighten, to call forth fear and seduce it. “Here I am, the very essence of evil and sin. Am I the monster you feared?”

I looked at him—really, truly looked. There was nothing overtly indicative of his emotions in his face, but there was something in the way he’d asked the question that made me carefully formulate my response. He did not want me to think he was a monster.

And, goddess curse me, I didn’t. I met and held his gaze. “Did he suffer?”

“Not nearly enough.”

“Were you able to get information from him?”

Wrath shook his head. “His tongue was recently severed. It appears to have been a choice he made, likely in case he was caught.”

I don’t know what madness came over me, but I put my wine down and moved to where Wrath stood rigidly, awaiting judgment. Slowly, as if approaching an animal ready to bolt, I wound my arms around his waist and laid my head against his chest.

For several long moments, he barely breathed. Then, he wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin atop my head. We stayed there, holding each other, until the little windup clock dinged. Even then I didn’t let go right away. This demon, this living embodiment of sin, was so much more than the monster he was supposed to be.

I pulled back gradually, and rolled up onto my toes, pressing my lips to his cheek in a chaste kiss. “Thank you.”

Without giving him an opportunity to respond, I hurried to the oven and removed the toast and roasted garlic. I placed them both on the cutting board, then added the hunk of goat cheese and the bowl of pesto. I grabbed two small dishes and stuck a butter knife near each item on the board. I smiled down at my work, pleased beyond measure with the outcome.

“You’ll have to serve yourself, but it’s easy.” I took a slice of toast and smeared a few roasted garlic cloves across it like jam. “Next spread some goat cheese on top of the garlic. And finally”—I added a generous spoonful of pesto—“top it off with the pesto.”

Wrath watched me work, then picked up a slice of toast and made his. He took a bite and his attention slid to me. “I think I like this almost more than the sweets you made.”

“That’s high praise indeed, coming from the cannoli king.” I grinned at him. “Sometimes I’ll add a poached egg if I have any leftovers from breakfast or lunch. Vittoria likes to—”

I abruptly stopped speaking and set my snack aside.

Wrath lightly touched my elbow, drawing me back to the present. “What is it?”

“I miss her.”

“Your twin.”

“Yes, desperately. Sometimes, for a second, I forget she’s gone. Then it all comes back. Part of me feels terrible for forgetting. And the other part wants to lash out. Lately it seems like I’m at war with myself, and I can’t decide which part will win.”

“I have no personal experience with death, but I know that’s normal for some mortals.”

“I wonder, though.” I looked him in the eye. “I’ve been consumed with rage and anger since her murder. The intensity of those emotions doesn’t scare me, which does frighten me. I never used to be like this. Then tonight… tonight, when that demon tried to kill me, I wasn’t scared. I was furious. I wanted to inflict pain. One of my first thoughts after the fact wasn’t terror, it was anger that I hadn’t been taught dark magic.”

“Your mortal family should have taught you to protect yourself.”

I inhaled deeply. I might as well lay all of my fears out. After the events of the evening, I needed to purge the dark feelings from my whole person. “Sometimes I worry that it’s not the devil who’s cursed. But me.”

Wrath went still. “Why would you believe that?”

“My twin was murdered. My grandmother attacked. My parents were held hostage by Envy. And yet what has happened to me? Aside from tonight’s assassination attempt, I mean.” I searched his face for answers. “Maybe I’m cursed and everyone I love is in danger. What if I’m the villain? One who’s so vicious, so terrible, I was punished to forget? What if the witches who were murdered started to remember? Maybe I am the monster and I don’t even know it.”

Wrath was silent for an uncomfortably long time. When I’d started to feel foolish for sharing so many fears with him, he said softly, “Or maybe they all dabbled in pursuits they shouldn’t have. And you’re the one picking up the pieces of their mistakes.”

Demonberry wine dribbled over my chin and spilled onto my sleeveless gown, but I didn’t stop guzzling it from the bottle to bother wiping the mess from my face. The magical sensation holding me in its thrall vanished. I set the bottle down, seriously contemplating throwing it across the table. Wrath gave me a smug grin.

He’d had a large, gilded table and two plush chairs brought into the weapons room. More thrones that weren’t thrones. Complete with metal serpents—not quite gold or silver, but in between—making up the outer rim of the seats.

Gold platters of fruits and desserts and whipped creams and rich, savory foods covered every inch of the cloth-covered table. Some dishes towered so high they toppled over, spilling onto the floor. It was a despicable waste.

I shook my head. “This is shameful.”

“The puppies will feast like royalty.”

“Puppies.” I snorted. “You mean those three-headed hellhounds?”

“Need I remind you that you asked for us to train. Stop avoiding the lesson.”

“Considering the fact I do not drink to excess, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be learning from this little session. There must be something more useful you can teach me.”

“Allow me to try harder to prove the point.”

I should have known better than to assume the prince would take it easy on me during our training session the next night. He seemed to toy with lust, envy, wrath, and sloth the most, but tonight he exposed me to the sin of gluttony. Everything from my clothing, to the jewels I wore, to the rich meal we’d picked at, to the wine I drank spoke of overindulgence.

I had sent him a note, requesting our lessons to resume. After the assassination attempt, I was even more determined to protect myself from the demon princes. I was struggling to find the value in drinking wine to excess, and how that skill was going to aid my endeavors.

Wrath poured an enormous goblet and handed it to me. It was the third time he’d done so. And that wasn’t counting the two bottles of demonberry wine I’d already consumed over the last hour or two.

It was getting harder to fight off the demonic influence, or even sense that slight tingle that indicated magic was being used on me. I inhaled deeply, breathing through the wave of dizziness. I’d only ever gotten drunk on wine once before, but I recognized the signs.

“Drink this all as quickly as you can. Then pour another and do the same.”

His magic grazed the back of my senses. I gritted my teeth and focused on how annoyed I was. He grinned over a platter of chocolate-covered berries. Then his power overwhelmed me.

I held it at bay for another strained moment, then gulped down the goblet.

My head spun and my vision doubled. I swiped at my mouth, grinning like an idiot, and poured another drink. Wine sloshed from the goblet onto the floor. My silk slippers looked like I’d been traipsing through a murder scene, but I couldn’t care less.

The more he influenced me to drink, the more impossible it was becoming to concentrate on my free will. Which, through my drunken stupor, finally made sense.

His brothers could nudge me toward drinking, and in turn, a slow inebriation would make it nearly impossible to stave off their influence. The more out of control I became, the easier it would be for them to slip past my defenses. Wrath had a point after all.

He wasn’t just trying to have me fight off gluttony.

I pushed out of my seat and tripped my way over to the demon’s side of the table, the empty glass dangling from my fingertips. He’d had me dress in a long, extravagant silver gown made of silk. It was luxurious to the point of excess. I wore no undergarments and the material did not hide any part of my form. With the wine soaking through the front of the bodice, I might as well have been waltzing around naked. I doubted he’d planned for that.

Wrath hadn’t so much as dropped his gaze below my neckline. Ever the proper gentleman. At least when he wasn’t ripping out tongues or torturing would-be assassins to death.

Heavy strands of diamonds hung around my neck. There were so many in varying lengths, it felt as if I was carrying an extra five pounds around my throat. It was so excessive, even Envy would be appalled instead of jealous.

I leaned precariously over Wrath, my face close to his. I wanted to kiss him. Possibly break a bottle and stab him first. But then definitely kiss him.

“You’re getting me drunk on purpose.” I gave him what I thought was a saucy grin. “Naughty demon.”

“Being under the influence of alcohol or other substances will greatly reduce your ability to sense a prince of Hell’s magic. Especially Gluttony’s. He will push you to drink little by little until you lose control and he can take over.” His tone turned harsh. “You need to fight back.”

I was trying to pay attention to the lesson, but I was fascinated by the shape of his lips when he spoke. I reached over and touched them. He pressed them into a firm line.

“Emilia. Focus.”

“Oh, I promise I am. I am extremely focused at the moment. Enthralled. Or is it enchanted?” I drew my attention up. There were two of him, glowering. I blinked until only one annoyed demon remained. “Why haven’t you seduced me?”

It was difficult to be sure, but I thought he removed his influence.

“If you cannot battle through the haze of alcohol, then it’s best to avoid drinking anything at the feast. You may accept a toast, but only pretend to sip it.”

“You worry too much.” I smoothed the furrow between his brows. “Nonna says all of the steam from the kitchen will keep wrinkles away. Vittoria and I will remain ageless. Like you.”

“Considering you’re not human, I imagine there’s truth in that.”

“You never answered my question. About seduction.” I swayed a little on my feet. His lap looked comfortable enough. I plopped onto it. His body tensed, but he didn’t lift me. I internally grinned at that small victory. “Fauna said the whole court would like to know.”

“Lady Fauna talks too much. Perhaps I ought to insist she visit a distant relative.”

“Don’t take your foul mood out on her; she was only passing along gossip to me. And I’d like to know, too. Maybe I want you to seduce me now.” I leaned on his shoulder and rested my chin in my palm, gazing at him. Belatedly, I realized I must look like a mad person, staring the way I was in our current position. “You know, some believe avoidance is a sign of cowardice.”

“I’m aware of what you’re doing, and it won’t work.” His scowl deepened. “I am not seducing you because I currently do not wish to. It’s as simple as that.”

If he’d stuck me in the heart with a knife, it might hurt less.

I twisted around and pulled the plate of chocolate-covered berries to me. I added a dollop of whipped cream to them and speared one with a fork. I missed. The fork connected with the dish. A berry catapulted across the table. Goddess-cursed things.

It was definitely their tiny, round forms, and not my current state of inebriation.

I took aim and squinted at the plate. Berries were swimming. They were no match for me. I aimed again and another berry went flying. I swore roundly.

Wrath’s deep exhale tickled my bare shoulder as he reached around and took the fork from me. He stabbed a chocolate-covered berry and swirled it into the whipped cream.

He paused with the fork to my mouth.

“If you so much as breathe one word of this, I vow revenge, my lady.”

“Very well. Though I doubt I’ll even remember this extreme act of chivalry in the morning.”

I leaned against his shoulder, head thrown back, and waited for him to feed me the dessert. With only a fraction of hesitation, he did. I swore the food tasted sweeter. I felt like a pampered Roman goddess as he fed me one decadent berry at a time.

“Mmm. I can hardly recall a word of what we were saying already.”

“Liar.” He set the fork down and brought his mouth close to my ear, suddenly taking the lobe between his teeth. Heat spread through me and my toes curled from the sensation. I wasn’t sure if Wrath had done it, but any inebriation I felt vanished. “Then again, so am I. In a sense.”