Kingdom of the Feared (Kingdom of the Wicked, #3)(59)

Dark hair cascaded down her back, her ebony gown looking more like leather armor than the high fashion popular in the demon courts. It was her eyes, though, that made my skin crawl. I’d seen them before. In a nightmare. They were star-flecked and fathomless. Ancient and filled with hate. And they were trained on me as she neared the dais with the vampire.

Wrath leaned forward, his voice dropping to a growl. “Sursea.”

The woman hadn’t yet taken her attention from me, her mouth twitching in what appeared to be dark amusement. I found myself wanting to throttle the look from her face.

“Isn’t this intriguing.” Her tone indicated she meant anything but intriguing. She took another step toward us, her gaze narrowing. “Do you know who I am?”

She wasn’t a vampire. Nor was she a demon. There wasn’t anything mortal about her, either, and yet I didn’t think she was a goddess. I had a terrible suspicion, and the tense way Wrath sat, as if he were about to spring out of his throne and strangle her, confirmed my fears.

“You’re the First Witch,” I said. “La Prima Strega.”





FIFTEEN


The First Witch, Sursea, eyed me the way predators survey potential threats or prey.

Instinct took over, and I bared my teeth, the vicious smile indicating I might not be fully restored to my former glory, but I was not prey, either. I stared the witch down, my fury growing the longer I held her hateful gaze. She’d taken Wrath from me. She’d used me and Vittoria in her twisted game. And I would make her pay in blood and tears for her sins. Not now, but one day soon my face would be the one in her nightmares.

Her attention flicked to Wrath, her expression turning mocking. “Six years and six months have certainly flown by, haven’t they, your majesty? Time may move differently here, but it still moves. How many days was it, again? I seem to have forgotten.”

Wrath’s gaze shot to mine for a brief flash before turning back to our enemy, but it was enough to amuse the witch once more. Her laughter filled the quiet chamber again. Only this time it sounded as if she knew a secret. One she shared with my husband.

And I detonated.

“Bow down to the king.” My voice was cold. Imperious. I felt Wrath’s attention shift to me, felt the whole room glance in my direction, but I did not break my stare with the witch. She must have sensed the fire burning in my soul. Sursea arched a brow but slowly went to her knees, the leather of her gown creaking in the silence.

I turned my focus to the vampire, who drew back almost imperceptibly. I had little doubt my eyes were now rose-gold and burning with my barely leashed power. If he hadn’t cared who or what I was before, he did now.

“Do not make me repeat myself. Bow or you’ll burn.” I summoned a fiery rose and sent it hovering above Blade.

He clenched his teeth but went to his knees, inclining his head in Wrath’s direction. “Your majesty.”

I stared at their prone forms, not releasing them from their positions of forced acquiescence. Wrath didn’t utter a word, sensing my emotions and giving me the time I needed to regain control. Or maybe he was simply pleased and wanted to see what I’d do next; discover how else our sins aligned in unholy matrimony. He’d said he wanted an equal. Wrath might command ice, but I was all fire. And the First Witch really shouldn’t have stoked my fury. Had it been only Blade speaking for the vampires, I doubted I’d have reacted the way I did.

It was Sursea’s presence, her foul demeanor, the implication that she had a secret my husband knew, along with her sneer at Wrath, that drove me mad with rage. For hurting him, I wanted to hurt her tenfold. It was irrational. Absolute. A consuming need for pure vengeance. I suddenly understood my sister all too well. I wanted our enemies to suffer. For every year, every month, day, hour, and second of pain they inflicted on my loved ones, I wanted to return the favor until they begged for mercy or death. And then I’d deny them that, too.

Twisted though it may be, that was the power of love. It could usher in warmth and light, and it could also turn a single ember into a raging inferno, destroying those who threatened it. Love might be the worst sin of them all, with its two sides.

Or perhaps that was simply the way of House Vengeance.

Torches around the chamber flared higher, the flames flickering wildly in a phantom breeze. I glanced around the mostly empty court, at the soldiers in their finery, Anir and Fauna among them. Respect, not fear, flared in each of their eyes. I might have scared them a little before, but they’d expect the princess of House Wrath to inspire some fear just as their prince did. That I was now using that power on our enemies… I inclined my head in their direction, acknowledging them. My attention returned to the unwanted guests still groveling at our feet.

That ancient, terrible power in my core stirred. The First Witch tensed. Her curse had locked it away, and the magic keeping it confined was deteriorating. One way or another, my spell-lock would break. And then that monster would be free. Sursea sensed that. She had to.

It was that thought, that promise to let my beast go wild one day, that soothed me. Still, it took every ounce of restraint I could muster to not unleash my magic now and watch them burn.

Tendrils of smoke curled into the air, and the acrid scent of leather burning wafted over to where we sat. The First Witch flinched but didn’t move to put out the glowing ember in her skirts. Wrath ran a finger along the top of my hand, his caress a cool balm to my fury. I exhaled slowly, quietly. And I drew my magic back to its source. I waited another beat to be certain I’d found my center. One wrong move and I’d become the monster I was feared to be.