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

I gently placed another book on the floor. Haven, the heavenly counterpart to Wrath’s personal Hell below, appeared as if a storm had raged through its rainbow-colored shelves. I snagged another ancient tome and flipped through it, mindful of the delicate pages.

The books in this library were all written in Latin, so I understood most of what was in them. Not that it helped my situation.

“Blood and bones.”

Another grimoire, another disappointment. There were no records of the First Witch, though that could have been due to the fact I didn’t know her true name. In Palermo, Wrath had said something along the lines of “the First Witch, as you call her,” which meant that was not the name the demon princes knew her by. If I couldn’t find something soon, I’d have to ask him. Which I’d prefer to avoid for several reasons. The first being if he knew La Prima was here and was harboring her, I wasn’t sure if he would thwart my efforts at uncovering that mystery.

I’d searched for records of Celestia, but there was no mention of the Matron of Curses and Poisons, either. If she was a royal healer as well as a poisoner, I would have thought there would be court records of her. Either mentions of her saving lives or taking them.

There was nothing.

It was as if she did not exist outside of that tower chamber. Further proof she might not be who she claimed.

I dropped to the ground, my skirts pooling around me. I was in a lovely navy and gold gown today with flowers embroidered across my bodice, elegant enough for a lady of the Royal Demon Court, and comfortable enough to spend hours on my knees in a darkened corner of the library, searching for answers.

I flipped through a rather thin journal filled with notes and sketches. It spoke of demons that had been made through unnatural sources. Not quite lesser demons, but close. These creatures ranged from human-passing in appearance to a mix between the natural world and mortals. I paused on one illustration. It was humanoid in shape, but its skin was tree bark, its beard moss, and its fingers and limbs were branches of varying lengths and widths.

The next image was of a young man with an enormous set of elk antlers. Another showed a woman with pointed ears and ram horns that curled down to her shoulders.

Notes spoke of spells and hexes that went wrong, turning mortals into nightmares. Shunned and cursed from their world, they ended up here, where they could roam the underworld without fear of persecution.

According to the book, most had scattered across the realm, ending up in the Undying Lands to the northwest, and an eastern mountain range called Merciless Reach.

One note caught my attention.

Creatures made through primordial fear often crave blood. They seek life and there is no greater symbol of life than the heart.

“Lovely.” They were this realm’s version of a vampire.

I set that illustrated journal aside and scanned the next grimoire, one ear turned toward the entrance. There were just pages of notes on spells, charms, and hexes. I dropped the book onto the towering pile beside me. Then I pulled up my knees and leaned against the shelves.

No matter how hard I tried to stop imagining creatures feasting on hearts, I couldn’t shove my sister’s mutilated body from my mind.

One night in Palermo Wrath had said that Pride’s wife had had her heart torn from her, too. He’d also mentioned that the First Witch had used the darkest of magic to remove her daughter’s power and it had unforeseen consequences.

What if her missing heart wasn’t part of the murder ritual? What if it was one of the consequences brought about by La Prima? It might have also been a way to set her free from any mortal constraints. I vaguely recalled Nonna saying something like that in passing.

If La Prima’s daughter was cursed and not dead, she might be the monster who ran around ripping out witch hearts and devouring them.

Perhaps she was motivated by revenge against her mother, at whatever humanity might have been stolen when her powers were wrenched from her. If the devil was her eternal love, maybe she was driven mad and killed any potential brides who would take her place.

Or maybe it was as simple as the illustrated journal claimed—if she was no longer in possession of her humanity, maybe she craved hearts for everything she no longer had.

“Perhaps there are too many maybes and not enough definitive answers.”

I stood and pulled my shoulders back. Now that I was alone, I would go back to the matron and directly confront her about my suspicions. If she was the First Witch, I didn’t think she’d harm me. There was a reason she’d been sending the enchanted skulls, and it wasn’t to frighten. Maybe she could tell me more about the Triple Moon Mirror and offer any ideas on where I might find it, or the Temptation Key.

I brushed my hand against the hidden sheath at my thigh. And if she did try to hurt me, I would not go without a fight.

Anticipation had me standing outside the matron’s tower chamber in what felt like mere moments. Disappointment had my jaw clenching as I tore off the note tacked to the door and read the hastily scratched message.

Gone for a spell.

It was impossible to determine if she meant it literally or figuratively. The matron would either return in a few minutes, or she’d gone in search of a spell. There was no telling how long the latter might take, but, on the off chance she’d be back soon, I milled around outside her tower until snow began falling and chased me away.

I’d taken all of two steps into the corridor of my bedroom suite when a prickle of awareness slid over my skin. Wrath leaned against the door to my chambers, his attention fixed on my face. I swallowed the surge of… whatever that feeling was and arched a brow the way he’d done countless times before. I still hadn’t seen or spoken to him after our last training session. And this visit was most unwelcome.

I paused a decent distance away. “May I help you?”

“I was here to ask the same.”

He didn’t elaborate, and I was not in the mood to play the game of ask Wrath a thousand questions and receive frustrating answers. I moved toward my door, expecting him to step aside, and inhaled deeply when he didn’t budge. I crossed my arms and waited.

Sensing my resolve, or attempting to re-strategize his battle plan, Wrath changed tactics. “The library is in shambles.”

“That’s a bit dramatic. There are a few piles of books scattered in one section. I will clean everything up this evening.”

“You’re looking for information on the First Witch.”

“I’m interested in my history. She is part of that.”

His expression darkened. It was not quite thunderous, but certainly stormy. “Lie.”

“What I may be searching for is none of your concern.”

“Everything in this castle is my concern. You, especially.”

“I do not press or pry into your plans. I expect the same courtesy.”

“Even if I’ve come to offer assistance?”

“After our last ‘lesson,’ I was under the impression you wished for me to take matters into my own hands from now on. Quite literally.”

Wrath’s attention drifted along my silhouette. He looked as if he were mentally replaying our weapons room tryst, dragging my gown up my thighs, touching and caressing me as if my pleasure was his own. When he brought his gaze back to mine, there was no heat or hint of the emotion that had just claimed him. He was remote, unfeeling. A wall was slowly being built between us. I couldn’t tell if it was relief gnawing at the pit of my stomach, or something else.

“We leave for Gluttony’s royal House in three nights. Send word to me if you’d like to train before then.”

He turned to leave and, devil curse me, I called out, “Fine. Meet me in the weapons room at midnight. We’ll have one final lesson before the real games begin.”

I arrived in the weapons room nearly a half an hour ahead of schedule. I wanted to set the tone of our lesson and with each strike of the ticking clock, my pulse raced faster. I glanced at my reflection in a particularly shiny shield hung on the wall, relieved that I still looked impeccable on the outside, no matter the chaotic state of my insides.

I shook my jitters out and moved to the center of the room.

At precisely midnight, Wrath stepped into the chamber and halted near the door. It closed with a snick that reminded me of a blade sliding free of its sheath. A fitting sound, given the battle that was about to be launched between us.

Wrath took in my gown—a black off-the-shoulder bodice covered in pale beaded flowers and vines with frothy dark champagne skirts that split on one side a little past my knee.

His focus paused on my footwear. I’d had the shoes specially designed for this dress and was fairly confident the demon prince liked them almost as much as I did.

They were heeled shoes that had a glittering black snake that wound from my ankle to my thigh. The serpent’s tongue flicked out but was semi-covered by my dress.

If Wrath wanted a full visual, he would need to push my skirts out of the way. The shoes were inspired in part by the statue in the gardens.

“Tonight we’ll—”

“—we’ll work on pride.” I smiled, noting that my deep berry lip stain captured his attention. I slowly spun in place. “I had this designed for our lesson and I’m quite happy with the results. It’s the first time I’ve created something entirely from my imagination.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I know.” I winked and Wrath actually chuckled. “It’s perfection.”

“I see your pride is already primed and ready for the lesson.” His eyes flashed with something dark and dangerous. “So let’s begin.”

“Do your worst, your highness. I’m ready.”

This time the magic was like a tiny bead rolling between my shoulders, slipping down my spine, pleasant and enticing. I almost arched into it, remembering at the last moment to shove it away, to focus on creating a barrier between the demonic influence and me.

I inhaled deeply, my chest swelling with elation. I was resisting Wrath’s influence, and I was hardly breaking a sweat. Battling away pride was by far the easiest thing I’d done yet.

I gave him a cocky grin from where he stood half in the shadows. He hadn’t taken another step into the room; he remained by the door, looking ready to bolt. It was about time he felt unsteady. Whenever he was near lately I felt as if my world had tilted wildly off its axis.

“You’ll have to try harder. I’ve gotten quite good at resisting you.”

“Have you?” Amusement glinted in his eyes. “Sounds as if you’re a little prideful.”

I lifted a shoulder and dropped it casually. “Not prideful. Only honest. You’ve been a decent enough teacher, but this student has surpassed the lessons. I accept my desires. I welcome any challenge. I have little fear of losing. I think your brothers ought to be worried.”

“Oh?”

“Of course. There is nothing more dangerous than a woman who owns who she is and apologizes to no one.” I gave him a slow once-over. “I believe I am powerful, therefore I am. Isn’t that the principle you live by? Well, I know I’m powerful. I know power comes from many sources and I now have many weapons in my arsenal, your highness. In fact, I can own you right now if I chose to. And you would be powerless for a change.”

“Cocksure. Boastful. An inflated sense of self-image.” Wrath checked each one off on his fingers. “You’re right. It doesn’t sound as if you’re under any prideful influence at all.”

“You know what else I believe? I believe you’d secretly like me to own you. At least in certain… areas.”

I moved with deliberate, even strides across the room, allowing my hips to sway. My skirt fluttered to the sides, showing off the snake winding up my leg.

If Wrath wanted a lesson, I’d give him one he’d not soon forget.

I backed him against the wall, my lips curving upward as I dragged a finger across his chest, then followed the line of buttons down to his trousers. Twisted demon. He was already aroused. I flicked my gaze up to his, watching intently as I slid my palm over the bulge. Air hissed through his teeth. I followed the hard outline over his pants and his breathing quickened.

The demonic magic he’d been wielding snapped and fell away. Just as I suspected it would. Wrath’s personal set of morals had revealed themselves during each of our lessons, and I’d been watching carefully, learning anything I could even when I’d been unable to block his influence. He never used magic when things turned romantic.

“Emilia.”

It was more plea than warning. Now that his influence was gone, our lesson was only just beginning. I leaned into him, pressing my chest against his, enjoying the way his focus shifted to my décolletage. I knew precisely how tight my corset was and how our new position showed off my assets best from his vantage point. He seemed torn between looking his fill and maintaining gentlemanly manners. Which wouldn’t do. I wanted him completely undone.

Suddenly, an image so vivid and real slipped into my senses, confusing reality with illusion. For a startling moment, I was in two places at once.

There was a low hum of music filtering in, strings and pianos, the sound dulled and haunting through the walls. We’d snuck off together, far from the boisterous sounds of a party taking place down the corridor. Shadows hid him from view, but he found me quickly enough. His hand cupped my breast over my bodice, his kisses plundering and possessive. My passion burned as intensely as his. I nipped at his lip, daring him to do the same. He did one better. He tugged the top of my gown down, replacing his daring hand with his mouth.

I slipped inside his trousers, finding him hard and wanting, then smiled as he cursed at the first stroke I made. I brought my mouth to his ear. “Shhh. They’ll hear us.”

I took him in hand as if it had been something I’d done hundreds of times. I knew exactly what he liked and how to elicit the most pleasure. His body, his heart; I knew them as well as my own. I used that knowledge to my advantage now.

He did not seem to mind.

Several moments later, he shuddered against me, his breathing ragged and hard. Once his trembling ceased, I rolled up onto my toes and kissed him, long and deep. “Meet me in the garden at the witching hour tonight. You know where.”

He’d barely managed to refasten his trousers when I ran off, glancing over my shoulder one last time before I slipped from the darkened room.

Wrath called my name, drawing me back into the present. I’d never had a vision like that and had no idea what to make of it. Something about it didn’t feel like the realm’s magic.

It felt like a memory.

Wrath traced the curve of my cheek, his voice quiet. “Emilia—”

“I…”

I stepped away from him, giving us both much-needed distance and considered my next words with care. I felt as if I were losing my grip on reality. Concern slipped into his features, so I did my best to pull in that prideful feeling again. To wield it to my advantage.

I purposely dropped my focus to his trousers; there was no longer any sign of attraction or lust. Apparently, my distraction hadn’t gone unnoticed.

I offered him a cutting smile. “It seems our lesson is over.”

Before my mask slipped, I spun on my heel and headed out the door. Something strange was occurring. And it seemed to happen whenever Wrath and I were in passionate situations.

If they were memories and not illusions created from this realm… then I might have discovered another one of Wrath’s secrets. Except I had no idea how any of it could be possible.

But I was damn well going to find out.