Kingdom of the Feared (Kingdom of the Wicked, #3)(28)

A blend of his colors and mine, apparently.

I forced myself to focus instead on what had driven us here and the new consequences of failure. “The duke mentioned several interesting things about Vesta. Did you hear any of it?”

“Most of it,” Wrath admitted. “Vesta wasn’t from here originally. My brother Greed supposedly wanted to wed her. And she was distracted lately. Couldn’t scent blood, but inquired about it in detail. A curious amount of werewolf blood would be present at any scenes she’d attended. All, unfortunately, is court gossip without fact. Though I’m particularly intrigued by the blood. It’s unusual enough for the commander of an army to be unable to trace information one can easily and effectively glean from scenting the scene, but on top of that, wolf blood frequently appearing is perplexing.”

“If she was unhappy here, those inquiries might indicate she was trying to find a way to fake her own murder. If it were me and I couldn’t scent the same information a demon could, I’d want to know every last detail to craft a believable ruse. Perhaps those instances of werewolf blood before were for practice. Maybe she was seeing how much was needed to overwhelm a demon’s senses.”

My sister had certainly proved that feigning a murder was possible. Until I found irrefutable proof otherwise, I’d remain suspicious that Vesta might not be truly dead. A new thought occurred to me, but it was another complex riddle, one that needed time to sort out.

“What is it?” Wrath asked.

“Things aren’t quite making sense. Vittoria chose to strike an alliance with Greed. It was supposedly to unite his court and the werewolves, but it’s peculiar that his commander should be ‘murdered’ under such mysterious circumstances. Especially when Vittoria is an expert at crafting a believable death. If Vesta is truly as talented as Greed had claimed, I find it hard to believe she was easily overtaken. No one hearing the attack can be explained away by a ward, but—for the sake of argument, let’s remove werewolves from the equation—who would have had access to her private suite? Your brother didn’t mention anything amiss outside her chamber. No scratches or forced entry. Which means she must have known whoever she’d allowed in. There has to be more to his story. Will you question your brother and see what he says?”

“Of course. But we might have a better chance of learning the details from your sister. Greed will not likely cooperate with a rival House, even if he’d sought our assistance.” Wrath pulled on a pair of leather gloves, hiding our new marital tattoos. “After you dress, the carriage will be waiting for you out front. I’ll meet you there shortly. Wife.”

Despite everything chaotic and wrong, a smile tugged at my lips. “Husband.”

It felt right. More than right. It felt like coming home.

The demon prince drew me close, kissing me fiercely enough that I melted against him, then left. Our game of deception wasn’t yet over. He had one more part to play. Hopefully, Greed would be annoyed enough by the destruction of one of his gaming halls and wouldn’t press for my signature or appearance. He’d want me as far away from Wrath as possible, lest I set off his brother’s temper again and ruin the rest of his castle. I’m sure the duke was already in his ear, too. Nobility didn’t care to be made fools of.

Which made me wonder if that could potentially be motive for someone to murder Vesta. At this stage, I wasn’t ruling out any possibility. Greed’s behavior was certainly odder than usual, continuing to cast him into question for me.

I pulled myself together, quickly dressed, and had just stepped outside into the softly falling snow, reaching for the coach door, when Wrath appeared. It should be disconcerting that someone so large could move so silently, but my husband was a predator who only pretended to be civil.

Wrath helped me into the carriage—the driverless black-and-gold beauty pulled by the four horsemen of the apocalypse, Wrath’s pet demon horses—and pounded his fist against the roof, signaling for the red-eyed, ebony horses with metal teeth to take off.

He flicked the velvet draperies aside, regarding the passing landscape with a growing scowl. To our left, the Black River churned, the dark-capped waves bubbling like a cauldron.

An uneasy feeling crawled along my spine. The water had been much calmer when we’d first arrived, and if Nonna Maria imparted anything, it was to look for signs of trouble.

Unrest was certainly brewing.

I wondered if it had anything to do with the blood oath the princes just signed. Perhaps the Seven Circles were already preparing for my sister’s demise. And, despite Wrath’s promise that we would find her first, maybe danger was already pounding at her door.

Wrath met my inquisitive gaze and gave a slight shake of his head. We hadn’t traveled far enough from the rival House, and Greed probably had spies stationed near the edge of his castle’s immaculate, snow-covered lawn. Like all magic, there were limits to the spells Wrath used to keep our rooms private. Since this was a moving conveyance, it was likely too complex for the magic to keep up. I nodded my understanding and turned my attention on the window. I was desperate to ask if he’d gathered any more information on Vesta from Greed, but we’d be home soon enough and could discuss everything freely there. My burning curiosity would need to wait.

We sat in tense silence as the carriage rolled down the long drive that led over a small tributary. After what felt like an hour, but had probably been only half that time or less, we finally ascended the steep hill that would take us to a bridge connecting the land between House Pride and House Wrath.