Kingdom of the Feared (Kingdom of the Wicked, #3)(82)

If she recalled any time with her true family, being torn away from them… it would have been hell, living with her captor. Serving as his commander. I prayed that she had escaped him, that my sister had aided her in some way.

I wanted to tear out of this well and pay House Greed a visit to exact some vengeance for the wolf pup, but I had to focus solely on my question. A feat more difficult than I’d imagined, given the rage searing through my veins. “Where is the Blade of Ruination?”

I tossed the wolf pup’s memory stone aside and wrapped my fingers around another, immediately getting sucked into a new memory…


Sursea heard the king approach his throne room, his footsteps as loud as thunder. He was in a foul mood, and it was growing darker the closer he got to her. Good. It was time he paid attention to her request, took it seriously. All he had to do was demand Pride give up her daughter, forbid them from marrying. Surely he had the power to stop such an unholy union.

If he wanted Sursea out of this realm for good, this arrangement would suit them both. All she had to do was ignite his hatred until it matched her own. She’d considered bringing her notorious hexed blade if he refused, but she needed him alive. For now.

The devil flung open the double doors, and Sursea felt the heat of his glorious wings on full display. She didn’t glance up, refusing to give him the satisfaction of staring at his wings like so many others had. She’d seen them before, when he’d banished the vampires to the southern court, bypassing the mountains that belonged to the goddesses as if they were cursed. His wings were silver-tipped white flame, lethal, beautiful. And his most prized weapons, according to her spies. There was nothing he cared for more.

A general of war would surely do a great many things to retain such a prize.

Refusing to look in his direction, she caressed the bare skin along her outer thighs. She knew he would not be aroused; her act was not meant to seduce as much as to infuriate.

“Get out.” His voice was harsh, brutal. It irked her greatly, though it had been what she wanted.

Sursea’s attention cut to his. “Talking with you hasn’t worked. Nor logic and reasoning. Now I have a rather tempting new offer for you.” Over the thin material of her gown, she slowly skimmed the peaks of her breasts. The demon didn’t so much as glance down, but his namesake sin did chill the room. “Take off your pants.”

He crossed his arms, his expression forbidding. A flicker of rage ignited in those gold eyes of his. “Get out,” he repeated. “Leave before I force you.”

“Try.” In one inhumanly graceful movement, she swung herself into a standing position, her long silver dress gleaming like a sword carving through the heavens. It was time for their true battle to begin. He was riled up nicely, and there was one thing she knew—a temper could get the best of anyone, including the demon who ruled over wrath. “Touch me, and I will destroy all you hold dear. Your majesty.”

Sursea’s tone had turned mocking, meant to needle him further.

He laughed then, the sound as menacing as the dagger now pressed against her throat.

“You seem to be mistaken,” he all but growled, “there is nothing I hold dear. I want you out of this realm before nightfall. If you’re not gone by then, I’ll set my hellhounds loose. When they’re finished, whatever’s left will be tossed in the Lake of Fire.”

She’d been around princes of Hell long enough to know he was waiting to scent her fear. When he didn’t sense any, he’d grow suspicious, and she needed to retain the upper hand. She jerked forward and slashed her throat across the blade in one brutal motion. Blood spilled over her shimmering gown, splattered across the smooth marble floor, dirtied his cuffs. She knew that would be the final insult.

Unfazed by her new vicious necklace, she stepped away from him, her smile more wicked than the worst of the devil’s brothers. She would know. With the exception of Pride, she’d tried to seduce them all to no avail. For a group of scheming, selfish demons, they certainly protected one another when matters of the heart were concerned. The wound stitched itself together under his cold, watchful gaze.

“Are you certain about that? There isn’t anything you yearn for?” When he didn’t respond, her annoyance flared. She was tired of being denied such a simple request. They didn’t trust witches any more than witches trusted demons. Having her daughter banished would be best for all. There was no possibility that they would want a witch to corule over one of their precious Houses. “Maybe the rumors are true, after all. You have no heart in that armored chest of yours.” She circled him, her skirts smearing a trail of blood across the once pristine floor. “Perhaps we should carve you open, take a look.”

She allowed her attention to pause on the unusual silver and white wings of flame at his back, her grin turning feral. She’d allowed just enough time for his brow to crease. Then she struck. With one quick snap of her fingers, his mighty weapons turned the color of ash, then disappeared.

Sursea watched with satisfaction as panic seized him. A rare showing of emotion from a demon known for his cool temperament. He repeatedly tried—and failed—to summon the wings.

“Here is a trick as nasty as the devil himself.” Her voice was both young and old as she spoke her spell into existence. He swore impressively. “From this day forward, a curse will sweep through this land. You will forget all but your hate. Love, kindness, every good thing in your world will cease. One day that will change. When you know true happiness, I vow to take whatever you love, too.”