Kingdom of the Feared (Kingdom of the Wicked, #3)(26)

Wrath crouched before me, his hands resting gently on my knees. His touch was not simply meant to soothe and comfort, but to reinforce. As if he could somehow help break the hold the curse had on me. The curse. Heart hammering, I squeezed my eyes shut. The curse…

There was something else there, something niggling around the edges of my memory. Fuzzy and out of focus. Like opening your eyes while under water. A memory was straining to break free, to fight its way back to me. I opened my eyes and focused on the new ink on my finger.

“Has this always been here? Hidden by a glamour?”

“I have a theory, but…” Wrath’s voice trailed off, likely the curse’s fault.

“Who am I?” I demanded. The room was spinning. “What am I? Do you remember?”

It took so long for Wrath to respond that I almost jumped when he spoke.

“For a long time, I didn’t. And if I did, the memory would warp.”

“And now?” My voice was quiet, tense. “Do you remember who I am?”

Wrath’s gold gaze latched on to mine as he slowly nodded. My whole body tensed as I waited. “You are the one she tried to make me hate for eternity. But she failed.” His grip on me tightened slightly, but not painfully, like he was never going to give me up. Unless I wished to leave. “Remember.”

The single word—spoken with authority and pure dominance—kept playing and replaying in my mind, almost spinning wildly like a top out of control. There was something there, in the way he’d commanded me to remember… magic. He’d commanded me through magic.

Wrath was feeding me his power, likely a result of our marriage bond. I sensed the slight trace of Wrath’s magic in the air, deep inside me, and gripped onto it, wanting—more than anything—to understand how I could be both enemy and lover. How I could have ever forgotten.

My heart thundered in my chest, too strong, too powerfully. Something was wrestling and fighting within me, something that was snarling and feral—something that wanted to break free. Our power seemed to merge, to braid together, creating new magic. Strong magic. A well of power too enormous to be contained. It was fire and ice and full of rage and passion. Whatever spell or curse or lock that was on my mind cracked. I cried out as magic flooded my system, lighting me up from within.

“Samael.” I reached for Wrath, but he was already there, holding me. Offering his strength. He must have sensed the slight fracture in whatever held my memories at bay, and he seized upon it, turning his power into a spear and aiming it for that one opening.

“Tell me who you are.” His voice was filled with that same magical command. “Remember.”

It felt as if I were now submerged, struggling to breathe, to think, to fight for air. I gasped, choking. Panic descended, and I was suddenly convinced I was on the edge of death. A warning rang in my head.

Death was not for me. Not yet.

I closed my eyes and stopped fighting, knowing innately I needed to let go, to give myself over to the force rattling its cage. The second I imagined myself floating instead of sinking, the frantic feeling subsided. The sunken memory skyrocketed to the surface, then broke free.

I opened my eyes, and Wrath drew in a sharp breath. A reaction so small it would be deemed unremarkable coming from anyone other than him, yet I knew this was the beginning of the end. The truth I’d fought so hard to find was no longer hidden by magic.

“I remember.” My voice was scratchy as if I’d been screaming for hours. Maybe I had been. Time felt strange. My prince looked weary, but hopeful. “I know who I am.”

Wrath’s dagger was now in his hand. He stood and motioned for me to do the same. We walked to a mirror hanging near the bathing chamber, and the demon nodded to the glass. “Tell me what you see. Who you see.”

Glittering rose-gold irises steadily gazed back at me. A mark of my true power. Though part of me wasn’t as surprised as I ought to be. Maybe deep down, where the curse couldn’t sink its claws in, I’d always known. There was a reason I was aligned best with my sin of choice.

Celestia’s words drifted back to me from the night I’d met her in Bloodwood Forest; the Crone had said Wrath was my mirror. I’d suspected then but couldn’t reconcile the truth of how.

Now the truth was staring back at me, waiting. “I see fury.”

“And?”

My fire. My anger. That ancient, terrible power I’d only barely scratched the surface of. They all belonged to me. “I see the goddess who rules it.”

“I see my equal. My queen.”

Wrath handed me his blade, his lips curving seductively. He seemed lighter, slightly less weighed down, like a nightmare was finally over. I wasn’t as sure but held my tongue. There were still plenty of things I couldn’t yet remember, which meant even with some of Wrath’s power inside me, the curse wasn’t fully broken.

My memories were only just starting to slip out through the crack we’d made, and I had a terrible suspicion that many more unsettling truths were waiting to be revealed.

Wrath pulled me against him, and tucked within the safety of his arms, I hoped perhaps he was right. That even if the curse wasn’t completely broken, maybe things would be better now. He angled his mouth close to me and whispered, “Welcome back, your majesty.”





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