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

Drying blood or an aged merlot, reduced in a saucepan and drizzled over a cut of peppercorn-encrusted meat. I twisted from side to side in the gilded floor-length mirror. I couldn’t decide which description better captured the unique color of the gown I now wore. Nonna would call it a blood-drenched omen and offer up prayers to the goddesses.

I quite liked it.

I’d obviously never attended a royal demon dinner party before, and the note that arrived early this morning in Wrath’s elegant slashes indicated I should wear something fierce and formal. This gown was both. A stiff corset bodice plunged into a deep V between my breasts, showing off my bronzed skin. Fine black snakeskin was embroidered onto the daring top, while the skirts remained that solid shade of dark wine. Demon finery in all its gothic glory.

Since this gown was also strapless, my shimmering tattoo was on full display. I decided to forgo gloves to show it off. I wore no jewels except for the ring Wrath had gifted me. It would make an interesting topic of discussion, no doubt.

And would hopefully serve its purpose well.

I missed the silver cornicello I’d worn my whole life, but had to accept my amulet was gone for good. I moved into the bathing chamber and toyed with my unbound hair. Yesterday Fauna’s style had been loose and wild and lovely, so I fashioned mine in a similar manner to avoid any missteps in attire. Long dark waves cascaded down my back, and the shorter pieces framing my face fell forward as I pretended to converse with diners on either side of me.

Which wouldn’t do. I didn’t want to hide behind anything this evening. The lords and ladies of Hell would gaze upon me without any barriers.

No matter how afraid or nervous I was, I refused to look it.

In a vanity drawer, I discovered little bird skull clips and pulled the top portion of my hair back. I placed the bones prettily about my crown like a diadem of death and added flowers between the macabre. There. Now I looked like a princess of Hell, if not its future queen.

Although, with the bones in my hair and the familiar glint of barely leashed anger shining in my eyes, I supposed I could also pass for the goddess of death and fury.

I walked back into my bedchamber and halted halfway through it. Placed on the glass table—next to the bottle of wine left over from Anir’s visit the night before—was another skull.

“Blood and bones.” Almost literally.

I drew in a deep breath and moved close enough for it to deliver its message. Almost immediately, it spoke in that same, Vittoria-like voice that made goose bumps rise across my body. “Seven stars, seven sins. As above, so below.”

“Goddess above. What does that even mean?”

I didn’t expect a response and wasn’t too disappointed when none came. I heaved a sigh. I hated riddles. Confusing, worthless things. I pulled out the inkpot, pen, and parchment I’d taken from Wrath’s library and scribbled notes.

If one of Wrath’s brothers was taking the time to send messages via possessed skulls, it definitely meant something. Unless one of the seven princes was simply toying with me out of boredom. Which I doubted but wouldn’t rule out. Perhaps they were petty enough to do it.

~ Enchanted skulls ~

Skull one: Angelus mortis lives. Fury. Almost free. Maiden, Mother, Crone. Past, present, future, find.

Skull two: Seven stars, seven sins. As above, so below.

The seven sins were the easiest to decipher; clearly it meant the princes of Hell. As above, so below was part of the prophecy—which was less clear. No one seemed entirely sure what it meant. Nonna said it related to Vittoria and me, that we were supposed to bring peace to both realms through great sacrifice. But even she didn’t have all of the answers. At least that was what she claimed. Who knew the truth anymore? The rest… the rest would take some research.

I started a new line in my notes, determined to have each theory clearly defined so I could cross it off or add to it over time. Having something written always helped me to truly see.

Plus, it was what detectives in novels did, and they always solved their mystery by the end of the book. I was no expert, but I’d try my best. I jotted down as much information as I could recall about the prophecy next.

~ Prophecy ~

As above, so below

• When twin witches are born, they must wear the Horn of Hades. (Vittoria and I.)

• Twins signal the end of the devil’s curse.

• Some witches think it means the use of both light magic and dark magic.

• Others think a prince of Hell will fall in love with a witch.

• One twin will rule in Hell, the other Heaven. (Both forced to sacrifice.)

My breath caught as I reread the second point. Twins signal the end of the devil’s curse.

“Holy goddess above. It can’t be…”

How did we all miss that earlier? My mind raced with thoughts of Claudia’s scrying session once again. About how “he” roamed free and the impossibility of it. She didn’t mean the angel of death. She’d been warning us about the devil. If my twin and I ended his curse, it was likely our birth that broke the magic binding him, not an action we’d taken.

Which meant he hadn’t been chained in Hell like we’d believed.

And he hadn’t been for nearly two decades. While I’d been investigating Vittoria’s murder, he’d been free, doing the goddess knew what.

So why, then, did Pride possess the body of Antonio and send Wrath to collect me in his stead? If he was not forced to reign in Hell, he could have come for me himself. He could have come to collect all of his potential brides. Why delegate that duty to Wrath?

Unless my earlier suspicion was correct and he was never actually in need of a bride. And the murders were committed for another reason.

Fear slid down my spine. I glanced at the new clock on my nightstand.

I’d wished for the bedside table and clock before turning in for the night, and both had magically appeared while I slept. I didn’t know if the room was magicked to my wants, or if Wrath had simply guessed I’d need them. It was likely the latter. Wrath’s attention to detail was astounding. As if he had nothing better to do than send for bedside tables.

Dinner was at midnight and there was still an hour left before then. Which gave me just enough time to rush back to the demon prince’s personal library. I’d planned to spend the time practicing harnessing my magic source, but that could wait. I needed to retrieve the journal on House Pride and sneak it back to my chamber. Immediately. Demon language or not, I’d find some way to read it, even if I had to bargain away another piece of my soul to accomplish it.

I managed to shove both the skull and stolen journal next to the first skull—hiding them all behind a voluminous dress—and close my wardrobe just as a knock sounded at the door. Exhaling quietly, I said a quick prayer to the goddess of lies and deception and hoped I’d not only make it through the night but that I’d come out more victorious than I dreamed.

I smoothed down the front of my bodice and crossed from my bedchamber into the sitting room that doubled as an antechamber.

With any luck, my racing heartbeat would be mistaken for nerves about dinner.

I opened the door and Fauna smiled broadly. Her happiness didn’t seem forced and a knot loosened in my chest. Perhaps I could strike a bargain with her to read the journal—she was a demon; she would no doubt possess the skills needed to read the demonic language.

But I wasn’t ready to hand over my trust just yet.

Unaware of my silent assessment and wandering thoughts, her gaze quickly traveled over me. “You look lovely, Emilia.”

“You do, too.” An understatement. She looked resplendent in a silver gown that appeared to be made of liquid metal. Images of Roman centurion breastplates crossed my mind; all she needed was the scarlet skirt or cape to complete the look. “Your gown is like armor.”

“Better to shield from the murderous glances with.” She winked and stepped back into the corridor, her expression turning serious. “Are you ready? We should make our way there soon. Guests are expected to arrive fashionably late, but not late enough to stoke royal ire.”

My pulse pounded. I hadn’t heard from—or seen—Wrath at all except for the note he sent regarding my clothing earlier. I had no idea what to expect from him tonight: how he would act in front of his subjects, if he’d ignore my presence, mock me, or seat me in a place of honor.

Maybe he wouldn’t even bother to show up. Perhaps he’d throw me to the wolves and see if I was vicious enough to grow fangs and make it out on my own. After our encounter in the library, he certainly seemed to hold a grudge against my family. What better way to exact revenge on them than by leaving me alone in a room full of bloodthirsty demons?

“Will Wrath be attending?”

“Yes.”

The deep, smooth voice owned my attention with just one word. My eyes snapped to his. Wrath stood in the corridor, dressed in a signature black suit, his gaze darkening at the sight of me. A crown of obsidian snakes dusted with gold sat upon his head. If a tall, menacing shadow had sprung to life—appearing both dangerous and tempting as sin—it would look just like him.

I told myself his unexpected appearance outside my bedroom suite caused the flutter in my pulse, and that it had absolutely nothing to do with the handsome prince or the predatory gleam in his gaze. The gaze that was trained wholly on me as if the rest of the realm could burn and he’d pay it no mind. There was something in the way he stared that…

Fauna twisted around to see who had caught my attention and immediately fell into a deep curtsy. “Your highness.”

“Leave us.”

With a quick look of sympathy in my direction, Fauna hurried down the corridor and disappeared from sight. Once the sound of her heeled shoes faded, Wrath stalked closer, his heavy focus sliding from the animal-bone crown I wore, to his ring on my finger, and inched all the way down to my toes before he dragged it back up. I did my best to breathe in even intervals.

I couldn’t tell if it was ravenous greed, wrath, or lust glinting in his eyes. Maybe it was a combination of all three. It seemed the underworld wasn’t only testing and prodding my desires now, it was a battle he was suddenly fighting, too.

When he finally finished his thorough inspection of my attire, his attention settled on mine. A tiny spark jolted through me as our gazes clashed and held.

It was hardly anything, a bit of static electricity one experienced after scuffling their feet and touching metal on an arid day. Except… it didn’t feel like nothing, exactly.

It felt like the first indication a violent storm was approaching. The sort where you either stood your ground or ran for cover. It was as if the air between us grew heavy and dark with the promise of nature’s fury. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine thunder rattling my teeth as winds whipped around, threatening to drag me into the swirling vortex and devour me whole. It was the kind of storm that broke cities, destroyed realms.

And Wrath controlled it all with one powerful glance.

“You look like a beautiful cataclysm.”

I laughed, trying to ease the strange tension hovering between us. His choice of words made me wonder just how well he could read my emotions. Maybe none of my secrets had ever been safe from him. “It’s every woman’s dream to be likened to a natural disaster.”

“A violent upheaval. I’d say it suits.”

A smile almost made an appearance on his handsome face. Instead, he motioned for me to spin around. I slowly twisted to give him a look at the entirety of me.

The back of the gown was as scandalous as the front. A deep V descended all the way down, exposing me nearly to my hips. A thin gold chain linked between my shoulders and swung like a pendulum against my spine, the only other bit of adornment I wore.

It was only because I’d been straining to listen, but I heard the slightest rasp of his breath as he inhaled sharply. Something resembling satisfaction coursed through me.

I was worried I’d feel self-conscious with large swaths of skin showing between my front and back, and the way the gown clung seductively to each curve, but I felt the opposite. I felt powerful. Now I understood why Wrath chose his clothing with such care. I commanded attention without ever opening my mouth.

It was a gamble I’d taken while dressing and—judging from the points of heat at my back and what I imagined was Wrath’s inability to keep his gaze from returning to me—I believe it worked. At dinner I wanted all eyes to be fastened on me when I walked in, all conversations to cease. I would not cower behind columns and slink in undetected. If Wrath’s subjects were anything like him, I couldn’t be seen as weak. They would scent my fear like a swarm of sharks finding a drop of blood in the sea and strike with the same predatory violence.

I went to shift around again, but Wrath stilled me with a light touch on my shoulder. His bare skin blazed against mine. “Wait.”

Perhaps it was the soft way he said it, or the feeling of intimacy in his voice, but I obeyed his wish. He carefully gathered up my hair and swept it to one side, letting the strands tickle and tease as they slid across my shoulders. I bit my lip. Shoulders were more erogenous than I’d ever given them credit for. Or maybe it was just the way Wrath moved closer until I felt the heat of him against my skin, and a tiny, intrigued part of me longed to feel more.

He looped a necklace over my head, the weight of it settling just above my cleavage, and fastened it more slowly than was necessary. But I didn’t complain or step away.

When he was done, he trailed one finger down my spine, following the line of the thin chain, inadvertently coaxing a small shudder. It took every ounce of stubbornness I could muster to not lean into his caress. To recall my hatred. Because surely that’s what that feeling was: the all-consuming, raging fire of loathing.

I slowly turned until we faced each other again. His gaze dropped to my necklace and I finally looked down to see what he’d placed on me. I inhaled sharply as my silver cornicello caught the light. “Does the devil know you’re giving this to me?”

Wrath didn’t take his attention from the amulet. “Consider it borrowed, not given.”

“Can you do that? Won’t he come after you?”

He made a show of glancing down each end of the empty corridor before looking at me again. “Do you see anyone trying to stop me?” I shook my head. “Then stop worrying.”

“I am most certainly not…” His mouth twisted into a troublesome grin as I trailed off, leaving the lie unspoken. I blew out a quiet breath. “It doesn’t mean what you think it does. Stop smirking.”

“What, exactly, do you think I believe it means?”

“I don’t care what you think. I’ve simply decided to be cordial for the time being. And I am merely tolerating our current situation until I leave for House Pride.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

“Then tell me you hate me, that I am your worst enemy. Better yet, tell me you don’t want to kiss me.”

“I’m not interested in playing this game.” He arched a brow, waiting, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes at his smugness. “Fine. I don’t want to kiss you. Satisfied?”

A spark of understanding flared in his gaze. I realized a second too late what I’d done; what he’d known the moment the words left my traitorous lips. He stepped forward and I quickly stepped back, bumping against the wall.

He leaned in, bracing himself on either side of me, his expression smoldering enough to start a fire. “Liar.”

Before I dug myself a deeper grave, his mouth slanted over mine, stealing my breath and any further denial as easily as he’d stolen my soul.