Kingdom of the Feared (Kingdom of the Wicked, #3)(80)

What sort of precedence would that set for the subjects of the realm? We were all trapped in an endless cycle of wrong acts. Sursea using us. Vittoria and I tricking Wrath and Pride. The witches binding us. Me and Vittoria striking back at them. Their attacking House Greed. This unrest between all of us could go on for eternity if we didn’t put an end to it. Someone needed to stand up and say enough. That might wasn’t always right. Otherwise, the next powerful creature could emerge and do whatever they saw fit to anyone less powerful.

“A kiss for your thoughts?” Wrath asked. Smiling at the unexpected request, I lifted my face, allowing our lips to brush against each other. “Now tell me.”

“I don’t feel as I used to.” My admission was whispered so only the demon prince could hear me. “I’m happy to have my full power back, my memories. But… inspiring such fear, it’s not what I desire. I don’t want to walk into a room and have it go silent. Watchful. I don’t want to feel that level of fear directed my way. I’d forgotten how lonely I’d been before I met you. How cold it had made me, bringing fear and chaos with me in place of warmth and love.”

Wrath was quiet for a moment. “What do you want?”

I thought about the prophecy, and while it might not have been solely about us, I felt one aspect of it acutely. As above, so below. Balance. Now that I was fairly confident Vesta was alive and hiding of her own accord, I had a new goal to focus on entirely.

“I want to right this wrong. I don’t just want to break the curse, I want to give all of us a true chance at coexisting peacefully.”

“Peace might not be possible.”

“I know. But I want to at least do something right. There’s been too much anger and resentment. I want to wake up and not worry about who might attack that day. Out of jealousy, or anger, or greed—I want to focus on the good. I want to surround myself with love. And that will never be possible if we’re all cursed.” I took a deep breath and exhaled. “I want to go to the Well of Memory. And I want to end this endless cycle tonight.”

Wrath leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. “Hold on tight, my lady.”

Without saying good-bye to his brother or any member of Greed’s court, Wrath magicked us away in the middle of the dance floor, earning a few shouted curses we both ignored.





TWENTY-ONE


“You must pay the goddess a tithe to enter the Well of Memory’s chamber.” I recited Fauna’s earlier instruction as I studied the statue of the goddess and serpent in Wrath’s gardens.

There were no features carved onto her face, but she had flowers in her hair, much like how I used to wear mine. Her curved blades looked sharp enough to draw blood, so I climbed up on the edge of the pool and pressed my fingertip on one. A single drop of blood welled up before the wound healed, leaving no indication it had just been injured. It was now odd to recall this immediate healing ability hadn’t been the case just two evenings ago. The spell-lock had well and truly changed me. But I would not dwell on that now.

I surveyed the statue for any hint of a change from the blood offering. None occurred. It would have been far too convenient for the statue to magically come to life and reveal that the curved dagger in its fist was the missing Blade of Ruination. But it certainly would have been nice. Wrath had warned me before I left that the statue wasn’t hiding the legendary blade to his knowledge. Part of me had believed my goddess blood would unlock some spell on the statue that even the demons hadn’t known about. Alas, that wasn’t the case.

I held my hand over the still water of the reflecting pool, watching as the solitary drop of blood fell into it. In theory, the blood drop should have dispersed once it joined the rest of the water, but there was magic at play. The single drop of blood expanded and grew. It cycled around the pool, spiraling tighter together as it wound its way toward the center.

Ruby-colored stairs formed within the spiral, disappearing into a yawning darkness that dropped below ground level. Just as Wrath had explained would happen. He couldn’t come with me—this was something I needed to do on my own—but that hadn’t stopped him from divulging everything he knew, like a general preparing a solider for battle.

I gathered my skirts with one hand and stepped onto the crimson stairs. I followed them without fear as I traveled underground. No water from the reflecting pool touched me; it parted with each step I took deeper into the earth. Once I’d fully submerged myself, leaving the cool winter night behind, I descended for a few minutes, the air turning crisper the farther down I went. The temperature didn’t bother me as it once would have. It wasn’t comfortable, but I did not experience any teeth-chattering or rising goose bumps along my flesh.

There was no light, only endless dark that seemed to get thicker, more pervasive with each meter I traveled. But, with my immortal body and senses, I could see almost as clearly as if it were a sunny afternoon near the shore. After a few minutes of moving at a brisk speed, the stairs abruptly ended. I stood on rocky soil and glanced around the small cavern.

A shaft of unnatural bluish light illuminated a well made of what appeared to be bricks of rose quartz that sat just off center from the base of the stairs. The Well of Memory. I moved closer, noting arcane symbols and Latin had been carved into some gemstones on its edge. I ran a finger over the indentations, feeling the power contained within the well hum against my skin.