Kingdom of the Feared (Kingdom of the Wicked, #3)(33)

I let go.

And fury overwhelmed my senses entirely. I became a pillar of rose-gold flame. The air turned scorching hot, though a protective ring flared up around me, Wrath, Vittoria, and Domenico. Everything else except for Wrath’s hounds and horses… burned.

Wolves yelped, and the ones not fast enough to leave caught fire. The stench of burnt fur wafted through my barrier, the sickly sweet scent of charred flesh following. Vittoria watched with great interest but said nothing as my power raged even hotter.

The snow and ice turned to puddles, the river water boiled beneath us, wolves farther away blinked out of existence, returning to the Shadow Realm. The stones on the bridge began to melt. In seconds, we’d fall into the steaming water, our flesh boiled from our bones.

I didn’t care. I’d take my sister with me. My need for vengeance was an unquenchable thirst I couldn’t satiate. I’d take them all and then—

Sleet pelted me suddenly, the icy sting of hundreds of frozen drops briefly snapping me out of my trance. Wrath’s fingers clasped mine, squeezing once before his grip went limp. I dropped my power, then I went to my knees, cradling him against me.

“Of course the Blade of Ruination has been impossible to find,” Vittoria finished, tossing the blade aside. “Which is why I had to resort to poison instead. Being the goddess of death has its perks. It took some time to get the potion correct, but I made something strong enough to take down an immortal.”

It took a second for my brain to catch up from my emotions and piece together what she’d been saying. I jerked my attention to my sister. “You didn’t find the Blade of Ruination?”

“Not yet.” Vittoria sighed dismally. “Though lying about it worked just as well, all things considered.” That was why Wrath hadn’t sensed it. It was all a fucking ruse. My fury took hold of me again, but before I could unleash myself, my twin raised her arm and made a squeezing motion with her hand. “Sleep.”

My heart slowed. Panic seized me as I realized there was no way I could help Wrath or myself now. My head hit the ground with a crack. I stared unblinking at my husband, who seemed to have rallied and was shouting my name.

His face was the last thing I saw before the world went dark.





I awoke to the sound of fire crackling, though cool dampness permeated the air instead of warmth. It smelled of turned earth. Like a grave. The very ones Nonna used to take us to each full moon so we could collect dirt to bless our amulets and ward off the devil. My husband.

I blinked up at a ceiling covered in roots and sat up with a start. It was dark, underground dark, and the thick roots crisscrossing the ceiling indicated that wherever I was, a giant tree was above me. I glanced around the empty room… cell. Bars made up one entire wall, too close together to slip through—the other walls were packed dirt, the floor impenetrable stone.

Lines of painful fire ran down my chest and turned agonizing.

The battle. Wrath. Wolves.

Everything came crashing back at once. Despite the burning wound, I shot off the straw mattress I’d been placed on and gripped the bars, hoping to rattle one loose.

Sharp pain lanced up my arms, and I quickly let go. The bars were spelled; hopefully it was only a complication, not a complete hindrance. I dove into Source and summoned my fire, aiming for the metal; the flaming rosebuds sank in, the metal angrily glowed crimson, then… nothing. The cursed bars absorbed the magic.

I tested them again and was knocked backward from the surge of power.

Perfect. My magic fed the spell; the more I fought to get free, the more trapped I’d become. It was a nasty little trick, but effective. Goddess curse her. “Vittoria!”

“Do you recall the night you eavesdropped on me talking about the Stars of Seven, Shadow Witch?”

I jolted at the sound of another voice and focused on what I’d thought was a darker shadow pressed into the far corner of my cell. “Envy?”

The prince of that sin sat forward, just enough for the light from the lone torch in the corridor to show his cool, handsome features. “You’re not the only one disappointed, pet. I’d rather my brother was here instead, too.”

“How are you here?”

Envy gave me an annoyed look. “Your sister couldn’t keep her demonic hand off me.” He absently rubbed at his chest, right where his heart should be. His shirt was torn like Vittoria had, indeed, wrenched out his heart. He caught my horrified expression and gave me a slow, wicked smile. “Not to worry. It grew back. Shriveled and just as black. But it’s there.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Immortality.” He shrugged. “Wounds heal, hearts regenerate. Life goes on. And on.”

When stated like that and muttered in a bland tone, it sounded dreadful.

“If Vittoria didn’t want you dead, why would she rip your heart out and lock you in a cell?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, your sister is both a sadist and a psychopath. Though judging from that nasty wound on your chest, that’s not surprising news.” Envy rose to his feet and brushed the dust from his trousers, then he scowled at his dirty hands. “She also happens to be obsessed with me, though I suppose I can’t fault her for that. I’m unbearably handsome. My refusal of her advances, as well as her offer of an alliance, drives her mad.”