Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked #2)(98)

White marble floors and walls shined cheerfully in the flickering candlelight. Silk furniture—gilded and ornate enough to rival the Sun King’s famed palace in France—surrounded me. I sat on the edge of a pearl-colored brocade settee, fingers itching to clasp my hidden dagger. No one spoke. There were no royal crests on their uniforms, nothing to indicate which royal House of Sin I’d accidentally invaded.

Not that I could identify anything other than Greed’s crowned frog insignia if I did spy a crest. I knew with certainty I wasn’t in House Wrath, Envy, or Gluttony. As far as I could recall, almost all of the seven demon princes should be at the Feast of the Wolf by now. Which was the likely complication behind the guards not knowing the proper protocol for dealing with a trespasser. One bright note in this dismal situation was I’d found the perfect hiding place to avoid the hunt.

An imperial rococo clock above the mantel ticked the seconds away. The lead guard had dropped me off here and left, murmuring orders to the two guards standing on either side of the door. Their attention had slid to me before they jerked their chins in acknowledgment of whatever he’d said. A quarter of an hour passed. Surely, as the guest of honor, someone from House Gluttony would notice my absence. Wrath most assuredly would come looking.

A full hour crawled by. No one came. Another hour passed in what had to be the slowest shift of time in history. Still, no prince arrived, dagger in hand, to free me.

It was time to become my own hero and save myself.

I cleared my throat. “Which royal House is this?”

Silence.

No one shifted, or even blinked. It was as if I hadn’t spoken at all. I settled back onto my seat, getting comfortable. Another hour slipped by and just when I was about to go mad, the door cracked open. One of the guards blocked my view, and the voices were too quiet to make out any part of the conversation. The guard nodded, then closed the door.

He pivoted in my direction, his expression cold. “Get up.”

My knees locked. “Where are we going?”

“His highness is releasing you.”

“I don’t understand… doesn’t he wish to speak with me?”

The guard’s face split into a cruel grin. “Best to not inquire about his wishes. I suspect they would give you nightmares.”





The ride back to House Gluttony was cold and miserable.

I couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding that trailed me like a shadow. Tanzie seemed just as disturbed; she rode hard and fast, her hooves brutally digging into the snow and ice as if she couldn’t get us away from the cursed demon House fast enough. We crested the mountain and ran full force to the south side of the castle. Gluttony leaned against the railing outside the stables, a cobalt capelet fluttering in the breeze. He watched our approach, one brow quirked.

“Anything interesting happen?”

I dismounted and patted Tanzie’s flank. “What game are you playing at?”

“Currently?” He checked a pocket watch. “The sort where I escort you to your chambers. The masquerade ball begins in a few hours. Your little jaunt almost put us behind schedule.”

My little jaunt into being a prisoner. Before I could quip back at him, he was in front of me, blade flashing as he cut the small leather pouch from Tanzie’s saddle.

“This”—he plucked a flower out and held it up, the silver roots sparkling as they twisted in the light breeze—“is slumber root. Capable of knocking out even the most powerful royal. What sort of nefarious plans do you have for this evening?”

“None.”

“Really?” He sounded disappointed. “You have in your possession a plant most princes fear, and you have no cunning designs on using them against us?” He tossed the pouch of slumber root to me. “Scheme bigger, my friend. Let your inner deviant free.”

“Now that I know what it does,” I said sweetly, “I’ll be sure to put it to use.”

“Good. Now let’s get ready for some debauchery.”





TWENTY-NINE


My beaded gown was extravagant. And heavy. Goddess above, I swore it almost weighed a quarter of my full body weight. A corset was built into the fitted top, and it was tight enough through the hips that I felt as if I’d been dipped in liquid gold. Metal sequins sewn in a series of geometric designs accentuated my curves. Hips, waist, bust. Each section boasted a mix of beads, sequins, and patterns designed to draw the eye.

I twisted in the mirror, admiring the hard work that went into making such a garment.

Champagne-colored silk whispered across my skin. The skirts split in the center, a few inches above my knees, and the beaded portion ruffled over pure, untouched silk. A shiny gold belt with vines and thorns brought an edge of danger to the beauty.

My mask… that was all House Wrath. I’d been informed that the princes could only wear wolf masks, and the rest of the assembly were free to wear whatever they’d like.

The half-mask I’d had made was tasteful. Dark gold with delicate lines of spun glitter, offering the barest hint of snakeskin. I’d left my hair loose and wild, adding a few gold clips to pull it back from my face. I’d just finished the final touches when Wrath walked into the room and halted.

I couldn’t stop the coy smile from lifting my lips as I tossed the needle and thread I’d been holding back into my sewing kit. “It will do, I think.”