Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked #2)(103)
“He, dearest darling, is the balance. And is usually the only thing standing between us and total destruction. Wrath is impartial justice made flesh. He is feared because he does not hesitate to carry out a sentence, to mete out justice on those deserving punishment. If he must send someone to the Prison of Damnation, what mortals consider their version of ‘Hell,’ it is no light matter.”
Thus far, no one had spoken of the mortal souls sent here. “Where is that located?”
“It’s adorable you think I’d tell you. Have you asked Wrath?”
I had and I was fairly confident he’d said something about an isle off the western shore. “I was under the impression that was what your role is supposed to be.”
“Rules are more fun when they’re broken.” He lifted a shoulder. “Delegating is also part of ruling, is it not?”
Before I could answer, he swept us across the room once again, his motions fluid and graceful and commanding. Understanding he was no longer interested in speaking of power, I changed tactics. I waited until we were far enough away from other couples, then said quietly, “I know it’s private, but I wanted to offer my condolences.”
Pride tensed beneath my touch. I doubted I would have noticed if we hadn’t been dancing, which was exactly why I wanted to broach this subject on the dance floor.
“Losing someone you love,” I continued when he didn’t speak, “is a horrible kind of pain. I would not wish that on my worst enemy.”
“As I’m sure my brothers and I are counted amongst those you consider foes, it pleases me to hear that.”
It was only partially true, but I didn’t correct him. With the next rotation around the dance floor, his mask slipped back, revealing his mouth. A small diagonal scar carved through his upper lip and ended just below the lower one. I’d seen it before and hoped the rapid beating of my heart was mistaken for the increased tempo he used as we continued dancing.
We were gliding closer to the edge of the dance floor, nearing an alcove hidden by a series of large potted ferns. Just as we stepped close to it, I swung us around and pulled him into the shadowy spot, far from prying eyes. I couldn’t see his full expression, but I heard his sharp intake of breath as I pressed him against the wall and brought my lips to his ear.
Needing no further encouragement, he tugged off his mask, and dropped it to the floor, then went to work removing mine, mistaking our current position for something it was not.
A reaction I’d been hoping for.
“Your brother thinks you’re debauched. Too drunk on wine and lovers to bother with anything of importance.” I pulled back enough to study him. Wariness entered his features. “Yet you were leading your guards around the grounds of House Pride this morning, looking anything but intoxicated.”
“I beg your pardon?” He feigned confusion like a skilled actor. I noticed he didn’t directly address my question, giving him a way to avoid speaking a lie. “I’m here for kissing, not an inquisition. If you’re interested in talking, I can find more scintillating topics.”
He brought his mouth close to mine and I stalled him with a palm to the chest.
“Allow me to speak more clearly, your majesty. Do not stand here, pretending as if I do not recall that you were the one who made me dismount from my horse. Why did you hold me hostage at your House for so long? Was it to hide how many guards you have patrolling your grounds?”
“You cannot expect me to share information with another House.”
“Fine. Answer this for me. Why are you hiding the fact you aren’t nearly as drunk and prideful as you’d like others to believe?”
“As a matter of principle, I rarely show my true face to anyone. You would be wise to do the same.”
My gaze strayed to his scar. I doubted that was the only reason he chose to hide. “You didn’t show up to the monastery that night; you possessed Antonio. To maintain anonymity?”
“Shouldn’t you be asking about the curse?”
A familiar demon deflection tactic; answering one question with another. “I know my birth signaled the end of your curse. Therefore you must have had other reasons to hide.”
His temper flared. My hit to his pride had reached its mark. “I was not hiding. I was otherwise occupied.”
“Well, while I’m sure we could talk in circles for eternity, I didn’t pull you aside for a frustrating chat.”
“Then let’s get to the fun part.” Pride dragged his hand down my silhouette and slowly drew it back up, pausing near my thigh. His brows quirked. “What do we have here?”
“My dagger.” I grinned as he abruptly unhanded me. “The fun part is this. I will cross your lands, twice, on a time and date of my choosing, without any interference from you, your guards, or anyone who calls House Pride or that circle their home.”
“Why should I agree to such a bargain?”
“Because I know one of your secrets.”
“My bedroom talents are already widely known.”
His teasing was another attempt to deflect. I had him cornered and he was showing his teeth by smiling as if he was unbothered. I understood where the term devil-may-care originated. Pride exuded a carefree attitude perfectly. Suspiciously so.
“I won’t tell your brother about the slumber root. You’ve certainly got enough to knock out an entire army. And that, your highness, sounds like information you’d be desperate to keep to yourself. Unlike the bedroom talents you boast about.”