Kingdom of the Feared (Kingdom of the Wicked, #3)(110)

I noticed she hadn’t said anything about Pride, but I didn’t point that out. It was a wound that clearly hadn’t scabbed over. Even if he didn’t desire her in any romantic way, I suspected Vittoria did feel differently. Something else I’d been curious about resurfaced. “When you got your goddess magic back, did you recognize Lucia?”

Almost imperceptivity, my sister tensed. “Did you tell her?”

“No. I did give her the memory stone back, though. She ought to be the one to decide her future.”

Silence spread between us, broken only by the faint echoes of the training going on below. Instead of metal swords clashing, the sound of claws scratching stone and flesh drifted up. When my sister still didn’t say anything, I continued on.

“If you did form an attachment with Pride, and if Lucia truly doesn’t want to be with him, you ought to sit down and tell him the truth. Without games or lies.”

“I do not wish to be his wife.”

“No one said you did,” I said. “What do you want? Now that you’ve got our House back.”

My sister thought it over for a quiet moment, her attention never leaving the alpha training below. “I want to focus on rebuilding our House. I wish to settle our court and earn back our subjects’ trust. And I do not want to answer any more questions about that wretched prince. Thinking of Pride makes me want to tear out hearts and stomp on them.” We both cracked a grin at her outburst, but I didn’t press the issue. “What about you, dear sister? What in the name of everything good and sinister possessed you to give up your magic?”

“It was either that or the curse would remain intact forever.”

“No,” Vittoria said, a rare bout of anger lacing her voice, “killing Sursea was a viable option. One your prince should have mentioned.”

“She’s immortal.”

“And I am the goddess of death. Even your powerful husband succumbed to Death’s poison. Until Mother interfered with her tonic.” Vittoria’s lips twisted in a cruel smirk. “Anyway, our mother is the Crone. Do you truly believe she couldn’t have assisted us in murdering a single witch, even one blessed with immortality?”

“Her niece,” I reminded my sister. “Celestia would not have killed family.”

“You forget our mother has an issue with pride, herself. She would never allow someone to destroy her favorite creations. Us, this realm, we all live in the world she made. It’s larger than just you and me.” Vittoria’s lavender eyes flashed. “And you gave up your power for him.”

I was surprised she’d felt that way, but it was far from the truth. I gave myself a few beats to gather my thoughts, to make her understand why my choice empowered me.

I dropped my attention back to the wolves. They were now fully shifted and running through their drills. “I chose to end a curse that would have kept me caged for eternity. I gave up my power for freedom, to right a wrong I’d helped to create, intentional or not. I did not give up my magic for one demon. Though following my heart was the right path, at least for me. When I considered the paths open to me, I could live without magic, but I couldn’t imagine giving up everything else I loved to hold on to it. I chose the path that offered me the life I want to live.”

My sister shook her head but didn’t continue arguing. It was all right for her to feel differently, to choose a different path. I didn’t have to agree with all her choices, and she didn’t have to agree with each of mine, either. That didn’t mean we didn’t still love and respect each other fiercely. We were twins, but we were our own goddesses.

“I chose happiness over fear,” I finally said. “And I’d choose it again without any regrets.”

Vittoria expelled a long breath, the cold air creating little clouds in front of her. “Then I am truly happy for you, Emilia.” She turned mischievous eyes on me. “And if you need anything, anything at all, you’ll always have me.”





THIRTY-ONE


Wrath’s wings of flame burned brightly against the twilight sky. We stood facing each other in the gardens of House Wrath near the statue that—I’d suspected, and finally had confirmed—represented a feared goddess Wrath had never allowed himself to forget. Our left hands were clasped together, palm to palm, our matching SEMPER TVVS tattoos lined up as if to remind us we’d given our hearts to each other forever.

The king of demons wore a suit of black, though he’d fastened an orange blossom to his lapel, a nod to the flowers I’d once again threaded into my unbound hair.

My pearl-colored gown was sleeveless, a beautiful silk edged with the most delicate lace, but the frosty cold never touched my skin. A fine perk of having a husband with such unusual wings. It felt as if a fireplace traveled with us, even during a storm.

Thankfully, the snow had stopped for our bonding ceremony, though dark clouds gathered overhead, a warning that the calm would not last.

Anir and Fauna stepped forward as our witnesses to the old gods, each holding one end of a vine with thorns. It was more twine than inflexible vine as they slowly wove it through our hands, then up around our wrists, tying us together, both literally and symbolically.

Once the knots were tested and tightened, our friends moved back. Fauna’s eyes misted, and Anir blinked furiously. The two sentimental fools had my own eyes tearing up.