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

“Death by wardrobe” was destined to be the epitaph on my gravestone, thanks to Wrath’s obsession with fine clothing and exquisite fabric. There were so many dresses and skirts and bodices and corsets and tunics and stockings and delicate, lacy undergarments and silk nightgowns and dressing robes, I had to close the carved doors and step back. It was too much.

At home I’d had a handful of simple corset-less dresses and frocks made of muslin. Two pairs of shoes. Sandals and lace-up boots. A few blouses and homespun skirts. Vittoria and I would often share clothing to make our meager closet appear larger than it was.

The items inside this wardrobe were unlike anything I’d seen in the mortal world. And it wasn’t simply the daring styles and scandalous amount of skin I’d be showing. It was the vibrant colors, detailed embroidery, and whimsical nature of them.

I took a deep breath and opened the armoire again. Shoes ranging from slippers to small-heeled shoes to boots in a rainbow of dark colors lined the bottom of the wardrobe. Blacks, charcoals, deep maroons, golds, and even some dark purple and silver.

Ribbons, lace, leather. Gowns with exotic and fantastical patterns featuring thorns and serpents and flowers and fruits and glittering fabrics to rival the night sky. Silks, tulles, velvets, and something that was so soft and fuzzy I rubbed it against my cheek.

Cashmere. A half-forgotten memory sparked to life. A little cabin deep in a frozen wood; a plume of silver smoke snaking into the sky. Whispers and cauldrons and… and Nonna had given Vittoria and me cashmere gloves when we’d visited her friend in northern Italy once. I liked the material then and loved it now. I pulled the pale lavender-gray dress out and swallowed hard.

“Oh.”

Fashion in the Seven Circles was a lot more formfitting and revealing than the clothing in my world. This dress would fit like those gloves and fall to mid-thigh. If I was lucky.

It was the obscenest piece of clothing I’d ever encountered, shorter than any nightgown designed for those who plied their trade in pleasure-houses. I wondered what it would be like, confidently owning my body and sensuality, neither apologizing nor simpering to anyone.

Suddenly, I imagined wearing the dress while I picked a fight with the demon who’d chosen it…

… his gaze would darken as it roved over me in a furiously slow way, making my blood boil. I’d shove him against the nearest hard surface, breathless as he flexed his fingers on the soft fabric at my thighs, carefully considering his next move.

Perhaps his troublesome mouth would taunt and tease while he strategized ways to wring pleasure from me. He’d whisper all sorts of filthy promises, heating me to my core instead of shocking me. I’d lean in and nip at his lower lip, a warning and a plea.

I would happily inform him that I was no longer fearful of my passions or willing to deny myself. That shame was the last thing I felt when he was in my arms.

He’d kiss me then, slow and deep. A commanding exploration of my mouth, my body. Proof of making good on his wicked promises. I’d feel his desire pushing against me, hard and warm and thrilling. My satisfaction over affecting him as much would slide into need faster than I could draw my next breath. I’d press against him, wanting to feel more.

It wouldn’t take much for him to wrench the dress up over my hips, drop to his knees, and kiss his way up—

“Blood and bones.”

I shook myself from the magically induced illusion. This realm and its nudges would take a lot of getting used to. It wasn’t as strong as it was in the Sin Corridor, but that same darkly seductive magic was there, lingering, testing, teasing.

Another unfortunate complication. I’d have to carefully mind each of my thoughts and feelings. I quickly put the dress back and snatched a dressing robe, banishing thoughts of Wrath.

Thinking about the prince of this House of Sin while standing near my bed without a stitch of clothing was a courtship with trouble. After I slipped the robe on, I tied the silk belt around my waist and thumbed through the clothing once more.

I held up another gown that was slightly closer in style to clothing from home. Well, dresses a princess or noblewoman might own. This one had a strapless corsetlike top in an endless matte black. A sleek skirt that would hug my hips and fan out mid-thigh before dramatically cascading to the floor. Satiny black piping edged each line of the top and circled the waist. It was a far cry from the simple blouses and skirts I was used to wearing to work.

Pangs of homesickness hit me. All the finery in the world couldn’t replace the comfort I felt with my family. I wanted to be standing in the kitchen of Sea & Vine, listening to the symphony of sounds my mother, Nonna, and sister made as we worked on our dishes. Knives chopping, pans sizzling, spoons clattering, and all of us happily humming while we shared gossip from the marketplace. My father and uncle Nino chatting merrily with diners.

The scent of savory food wafting around… That simple, happy life was over.

Ready or not, I needed to step into this new role and own it. So I would. Both literally and figuratively. Starting at once.

I gathered up the gown and strode into the room the prince had washed up in, then halted.

“Divine goddesses above.”

Every surface reflected my shocked expression back at me. Floors, ceiling, sunken tub, vanity—everything was made of either solid crystal, frosted glass, or white gold. Candles flickered from a circular chandelier. The chamber gleamed softly like I’d crossed from the underworld and stepped directly onto the surface of the moon.

The only bits of color came from an assortment of makeup in tidy piles on the vanity. Brushes for eyes and face and hair. Jeweled clips and tiaras and pins. Flower buds for my locks. Pots of multicolored inks for my lips. Crushed gold that could be dusted across my face or body, delicate perfume bottles with pale pinks and purples and hues I had no exact name for.

I set aside the gown and picked up one perfume and inhaled. Lilac and maybe almond with a hint of bergamot. Vittoria would have adored the assortment of scented riches. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and grabbed the lilac perfume. I dabbed a bit on each wrist and rubbed them together. It was heavenly. I smelled another that reminded me of honeysuckle and birchwood and heavy whipping cream. Perhaps a tiny hint of gardenia, too. Another smelled almost exactly like hyacinth, reminding me of lush spring mornings.

I smiled a little to myself; Vittoria’s passion for creating perfume aided me with singling out different notes. For a minute, I could almost close my eyes and pretend she was here now. The moment passed, a temporary shadow cast from a cloud racing past the sun.

I inspected each bottle and all of the items Wrath had supplied. Nothing surprised me as much as the fresh flowers. A crystal vase sat on the vanity beside the makeup.

Fragrant blossoms in whites and pale blues and rose-gold pinks cascaded around a smattering of ferns and eucalyptus stuck throughout the arrangement. The flowers were all lovely, almost exactly what was found in the human world, except they were coated in ice.

I breathed them in, surprised their scent penetrated the frost. My fingers trailed over the icy petals. I wondered if the flowers were Wrath’s idea or if someone else had sent them.

Someone like my soon-to-be husband. I stopped wondering. It didn’t matter.

My attention swept across the sunken glass tub; it took up almost the entire center of the room. I could swim from side to side and do laps in it. It was one of the grandest things I’d ever seen. Before bed I’d definitely take a swim. Now I had things to do, secrets to uncover. And seven demon courts to slowly infiltrate, starting with House Wrath.

Thus far the underworld was wildly different from what I’d heard about it from mortal religion. I had much to learn if I had hopes of sorting truth from fiction while here.

A quick bath was all I could spare time for. I removed my robe and waded in, quickly scrubbing my skin and hair with a bar of soap laid atop folded linen. The water was a perfect temperature. Not too hot or cold, but delightfully warm. Part of me reconsidered my plan to quickly bathe and instead spend the rest of the evening floating in heaven.

With a sigh, I rinsed off and pulled myself from the tub. The length of linen I found near the water’s edge was big enough to towel off my whole body.

Once I was properly dry, I picked up the gown. Goddess bless me and the demon who ordered this wardrobe, the dress was designed to be put on without assistance. I shimmied it up over my hips and chest. Little hook-and-eye closures ran up the side and clasped with ease.

I went back to my bedchamber and rummaged around until I found a pair of heeled black shoes coated in a glittery charcoal dust and slipped them on. They fit perfectly, just like the gown. Wrath was nothing if not a perfectionist.

I returned to the bathing chamber, ready to address the matter of my hair. My attention slid to the makeup. Our family didn’t have money for such a large assortment of luxury items.

I sat on the crystal stool and applied some kohl to my upper lash line. My fingers hovered above a beautiful set of orange blossoms sewn carefully onto hairpins. At home, I wouldn’t second-guess my choice to weave them into my hair. But here…

I chose a violent, bloody shade of red and painted my lips the color of murder instead.

The wardrobe and the clothing weren’t the only bits of extravagance I discovered.

Wrath had set me up in a bedroom suite fit for a queen. Not only did I have a bathing chamber that almost rivaled the entire size of my family home, there was also a sitting room, a bedroom, and another room that seemed to be designed for lounging or receiving guests or dedicated to whatever other leisurely activity I wished. There was an inviting divan that looked perfect for curling up with a good book. I was unsure what to do with so much space.

A rack of bottles that appeared to be expensive spirits filled one wall in the leisure chamber. I ran a finger over the cool glass, peering into each one. Different petals and crushed herbs infused the liquor inside. Bribery, no doubt. I left them unopened and continued my inspection. Every room was finely appointed, the furniture plush and welcoming, if not edged in elegance. It seemed that the demon prince was trying to impress me.

Or perhaps he was trying to apologize for the whole soul-stealing unpleasantries between us. Betrayal went down easier if it was served with fine demon liquor, personal suites in luxurious palaces, and expensive gifts. At least according to him.

Though, I suppose, he also might be showing respect to his future queen. Apparently being betrothed to Pride came with some benefits, even in a rival demon House.

I strode through the bedroom, heading for the exit I found in an antechamber. It was going to take more than decadent furnishings and pretty dresses to fix our current situation. For one, the prince might start with an apology. Then perhaps we might have an honest conversation.

I wanted to settle whatever was brewing between us before I left for my husband’s castle. I did not need any more animosity between House Wrath and myself.

I had enough to worry about as it stood.

A knock came at the door just as my hand closed around the knob. I yanked it open, ready to give Wrath hell for being such a pimpled ass.

“Oh.” I blinked at Anir. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Nice to see you again, too.”

Anir held a covered tray in one hand, and a bottle of what looked to be wine in the other. His long midnight hair was pulled into neat knot at the base of his neck and his scar gleamed silver against his tawny skin. The suit he wore now was much finer than the first time I’d met him in Palermo. I didn’t see his deadly demon blade but knew he was likely armed.

“I didn’t mean—”

“You did. And I don’t mind.” He winked. “Thought you might be hungry. Or want to get drunk.”

My attention darted into the elegant stone corridor with arches rivaling any grand cathedral. Empty. “Did your prince send you to spy on me?”

“Have some food and wine and find out. I’m a terrible gossip when I’m deep into my cups.”

I highly doubted Anir was ever impaired enough to not mind what he was saying. Wrath would never trust him if he let secrets slip after a few glasses of wine or spirits. I wrinkled my nose at the bottle. “Isn’t it a bit early for drinking?”

“It’s well into evening. You slept most of the day.”

I swept my arm in welcome and closed the door behind him. Anir set the tray and bottle on the glass table in the corner and tugged the lid off with a grand flourish. Fruits, cured meats, hard cheese, marinated olives, and crostini were laid out with expert care.

I stared emotionlessly at the spread.

“Wrath acted like human food wasn’t something he was exposed to. Another lie?”

“No.” Anir pulled two glasses from a little mirrored cabinet near the table and poured us each a generous amount of wine. “I stock up on supplies from the human world whenever I can. Mostly hard cheese and cured meat and various nuts and wheats and rice. Things that can be easily stored or dried.” He handed over my glass of wine. “His highness made sure I brought these items back. He thought you might want something that reminded you of home tonight. Now that you’re not near death and can enjoy it.”

I accepted the glass and sniffed it. “Red wine, or demon wine?”

“Regular, human red.” He clinked his glass against mine. “You’ll spot the difference when you see demon wine. It’s unmistakable.”

Letting that ominous-sounding information go, I took a sip. It had a smooth, sweet undertone to it. I drank more. “So. Human food and wine. Are you supposed to be lowering my inhibitions and gaining my trust? I imagine you’re going to pretend to be drunk, offer some innocuous information predetermined by your prince, and see what secrets I spill in return.”

“Are you always this cynical?”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned recently, it’s to question anyone connected to the demon realm. Everyone has their own agenda. Their own game. If I ask enough questions, eventually I’ll catch someone in their well-constructed lie. Though, according to the princes, they are incapable of directly telling an untruth. Another fabrication, I’m sure. Or maybe that’s why you’re here. You can lie for Wrath.”

I plucked an olive from a tiny dish and popped it into my mouth. The briny flavor was a nice counterpoint to the wine. I sampled a bit of cheese and meat and bread. Anir watched me, his expression contemplative, if not a bit sad.

“I just haven’t quite worked out what else he could possibly want from me now. He won.”

Anir swirled his wine. “What, exactly, do you think he’s won?”

“His freedom. His grand deception. Making me look like a fool for trusting him when he said we’d work together.” I finished off my glass and poured a second. Before I took a sip, I ate another olive. “Why don’t you explain demon politics to me so I can figure out what else he’s gained by signing my soul to the devil.”

“Is that what he told you?”

“I…” I thought back to the night we’d kissed, when I’d repeated what I’d heard from Envy. I couldn’t recall what Wrath said, exactly, but… “He didn’t deny the accusation. If he wasn’t worried about being caught in a lie, why wouldn’t he tell me otherwise?”

“Acta non verba.” Anir grinned. “He lives by that principle.”

Actions, not words. I clamped my mouth shut. Wrath brought me to the underworld. He came bearing a contract with Pride. It was a fairly large, undeniable action. He didn’t have to say a thing. I got his message, and it was as loud and clear as a cloudless summer sky. Wrath had no qualms about using me for his gain. He’d once said he’d lie, cheat, steal, or murder to procure his freedom. I was lucky he’d only deceived me, though that was hardly a consolation.

“What do you know about Pride’s consort? How was she murdered?”

“Interesting, if not an aggressive, subject change.” Anir put some cheese on a slice of crostini and topped it off with prosciutto. “My unsolicited advice? Take a subtler approach with information-gathering here. The royal Houses are ancient and antiquated in their ways. They won’t give you anything if you demand it or openly ask about it. It’s considered rude and uncouth. Plus, they do not believe in giving without gain. You ask for something, you better be prepared to pay a price.”

I worried my lower lip between my teeth, thinking. Anir offered truth and advice freely. If I had to gamble on any friendship here, perhaps I should bet on him, regardless of his close connection with Wrath. I set my glass down.

“I’m not sure how to bring that up in a more casual or innocuous way. If I’m being truthful, I’m a bit overwhelmed.”

“Understandable. A lot is changing and quickly. I imagine it’s hard… processing so many emotions.”

It was an odd turn of phrase. “You must have traveled through the Sin Corridor. I doubt you have to stretch your imagination very far to understand how it feels.”

“True enough.” He took a sip of his wine, gaze searching. “You’ll need to gain the princes’ trust, become their friend. Let them conspire with you, seek you out. If you play into their egos and the sins they represent, they’ll offer up bits of useful information. Always be prepared to give up a secret or make a bargain. Pick things you won’t mind sharing or having used against you. Define the terms before you agree, or else they’ll bend things to their advantage.”

I exhaled. “I was hoping for a faster solution.”

“You’re involved in something spanning decades and realms. There is no such thing as fast or easy. This goes beyond the bloodshed on your isle. But if you start there, perhaps you’ll learn more. Narrow your list. Concentrate on who you think has the answers you seek. What information do you need most? What will be the most beneficial to your overall goal?”

“I don’t have an agenda. I’m simply curious. If Pride’s wife was murdered, and each of his next potential brides were, too, I want to avoid that same fate.”

“If that was completely true, you wouldn’t have come here at all.”

“I’m here to ensure demons don’t slip through the gates. I’m here to protect my family.”

Anir didn’t respond. We both knew that was only partially true. If I wanted answers about Pride’s consort and details of her life and death, I needed to go to Pride. Except he was locked in a childish battle of male ego with Wrath and I needed an invitation.

I hadn’t gotten anywhere with Envy, and his role in my sister’s murder was still murky. Discovering who killed the first consort might be the most helpful route to take with solving my mystery. And I hadn’t fully lied; knowing what happened to her would help me. It sounded like Anir knew more, but the way he’d phrased his statement brooked no room for entertaining that line of questioning. At least it was a subtle clue.

“Why did you choose to become a member of House Wrath?”

Anir didn’t answer right away, and I immediately regretted asking something that was likely personal. He heaved a sigh.

“After my parents were murdered, anger and wrath were my biggest comforts. He sensed that, saw the path I was on, and offered me a productive outlet for that fury.”

We weren’t dissimilar. “How long have you been here?”

“Hmm. Time is peculiar here. A mortal hour might be a week. A month, a decade. All I know is it’s been a while.” Anir took a generous pull of his wine, eyes narrowed. “Your turn. What did you do to him?”

“I’m not sure I follow your meaning. What happened?”

“He went out and brought down an entire mountain on the western edge of the Undying Lands. We’ve got letters pouring in from House Lust and House Gluttony so far. They believe the end days are here and want to know if we’re preparing for war.”

“Why is it whenever a man throws a tantrum a woman is blamed for his poor behavior? If Wrath acted like an idiot, he accomplished that all on his own. I don’t see why his temper is so shocking. He is the living embodiment of wrath. I’m sure you’ve seen him angry.”

Anir smirked over his glass. “You’re certain he was mad?”

“What else would he be?”

“Pick another emotion.”

“Does being a prideful bastard count?”

“Your room, your rules. But I don’t think he was angry or prideful.” His dark eyes twinkled. “You know, in all the years I’ve known him, he’s never personally escorted anyone into the City of Ice.” Whatever question he saw in my face, he clarified, “It’s what House Wrath is known as within the Seven Circles. The more powerful the House, the colder the circle.”

Explained all the frosty glass and crystal décor in my bathing chamber.

“I wouldn’t read too much into his supposed good deed. He had to escort me because of the contract. He needed my soul to settle his debt.”

“That was accomplished the instant you crossed into the underworld. He could have left you alone in the Sin Corridor. He should have.” Anir abruptly stood and headed for the door in the antechamber. He tapped his fingers on its frame and glanced back at me. “He’s on the seventh-floor balcony now. In case you wanted to fight some more. I think it’s good for him. Being challenged. You certainly get under his skin.”

Like a poisoned splinter straight to the heart, no doubt. It was tempting, and I might have done just that, if I hadn’t noticed an object placed on the edge of the bed.

Something that didn’t belong and hadn’t been there a few moments before. I bid Anir good night and pressed myself against the closed door, silently counting the increased beats of my heart as I stared into the other room.

Fear. This realm thrived on it. And I would deprive it in every way I could.

I exhaled slowly, counted to ten.

Then I stood up straight, pulled my shoulders back, and marched over to the human skull.