Kingdom of the Feared (Kingdom of the Wicked, #3)(73)

I held a hand to my chest, my heart pounding faster the longer my sister held my gaze. “Is there no other way to break the spell-lock?”

“Not that I’ve discovered. Believe me, I looked before I had mine torn out.”

“Who did tear your heart out?” I asked. “Domenico?” “Many creatures in the underworld were only too happy to be considered for the task. Leave it at that for now.” Vittoria’s gaze iced over before it softened again. “You won’t have to worry about that, though. I’ll be with you.” I paced away, and my sister just watched without comment as I walked back and forth, my mind and heart racing. The witches bound us. And yet I couldn’t stop thinking about Envy’s reaction to when Vittoria first wished to remove my spell-lock. He’d been so opposed.

And Wrath didn’t really speak about it much at all. I knew he was uncertain, yet my sister had survived. She’d returned to her full goddess self. Which made me wonder once again if there was another reason Wrath didn’t say more. I thought of the Viperidae attack—how after the snakelike demon had bitten me, Wrath used magic that took the venom into his own body.

I also recalled something saccharine sweet he’d made me drink…

“Goddess above. He gave me nectar.”

Ambrosia. The food of the gods.

I stopped pacing and stared at nothing. He’d also given me something sweet to drink when I’d had the mild case of hypothermia. More nectar. More goddess-healing fuel. Wrath couldn’t be worried about my dying. So what else would motivate him to use such caution? I resumed my pacing, letting my mind run over different theories and scenarios until one separated itself from the rest.

Envy was fearful that day in our cell. So were Lust and Sloth and even Greed when I’d lost my temper and set that painting ablaze. And Wrath… he might not be afraid of me, but all the princes of Hell had called us the Feared. My husband didn’t fear for my life, he feared for his realm. He feared setting me free, fully. Wrath didn’t actively stop me, but he certainly wasn’t helping, either. This choice was mine and mine alone.

I spun around and met my sister’s patient gaze.

“I’m ready,” I said, meaning it.

Over these last few weeks, Wrath had been showing me how to control my emotions. To see past my fury. That was the lesson he’d taught me the night he’d forced me to stab him, the night he’d said was about sensing other sins and combating them. Yes, learning to steel myself against pride, greed, and lust had been important. But all along, Wrath knew what House of Sin I ruled over, knew how potently my desire for vengeance could grow.

Until I’d stabbed him that night, I would have continued down a path in which I craved blood. And he’d been right—I didn’t wish to admit it then, but I hated hurting him in that moment. Hated that loss of control, that overwhelming feeling of only being driven by my rage. I ruled over that emotion, and I would not allow it to rule over me.

In the throne room with the vampire emissary and Sursea, my rage had nearly taken over then, too. But it didn’t. I could not rely on Wrath or anyone else to pull me from that dark place again. It had to come from me. Stalling myself from unleashing my full power any longer would only ensure one thing: I’d fail by not trying.

Fear would hold me back. But faith in myself would set me free.

“Would you be able to… if I—” I drew in a deep breath. “I don’t wish to lose control.”

“Understandable.” Vittoria nodded. “I’ll be here. You have nothing to fear about the change. It’s disorienting at first, but it feels like taking a large breath of fresh air after being submerged in the sea.”

I exhaled and nodded. “All right. I’m ready to break the spell-lock now.”

Vittoria led us back toward our childhood home. The flap of illusion that had peeled back was securely in place again, making the building look as it had my whole life. We walked up the stairs and entered through the front door, and what had once been a small living space now had cathedral ceilings and decadent furnishings. It smelled of honey and wildflowers.

On the far wall in the first chamber were shelves of books; another nook had a wall of jars with hearts. I averted my gaze and walked toward an altar set off to one side. Giant bowls of fire crackled to either side of it, the flames a beautiful, glittering black.

Vittoria snapped her fingers, and suddenly a werewolf appeared holding a lavender garment. The young woman looked to be in her midtwenties, and there was something familiar about the shade of her eyes and the shape of her face. She quickly averted her gaze and moved back. My twin motioned for me to step up onto the dais. “Put this on. Then lie on the altar with your arms relaxed at your sides and your legs straight out.”

Relaxing wasn’t something I thought I could achieve, but I gingerly took the item, which turned out to be a billowing gown, and quickly undressed and slipped it on.

It had two large swaths that tied over each shoulder and continued down the front. A silver rope tied it together at the waist, and two slits ran up to midthigh. The deep V of the front granted access to my spell-locked heart and had my mortal one beating furiously. I refused to think about how it would soon cease beating at all. A flash of calmness blew over me, almost as if propelled on a magical wind. All would be well. I glanced to the werewolf who’d brought the clothing and wondered if she’d somehow altered my mood. It was rare and covetable magic. The princes of Hell could influence sins, but to influence joy was something else entirely.