Kingdom of the Wicked (Kingdom of the Wicked #1)(52)

“Enlighten me.”

“I feel your gaze on me when you think I’m not paying attention. You track the dagger every time I move. You need to know where it is. That’s why Envy was surprised I had it. You’re almost immortal, except for that one little weakness. So, oh, mighty Prince Wrath, if you don’t want to die tonight, tell me why Pride really sent you here.”





Twenty-Four

Wrath spun around and leaned forward, pressing the tip of his dagger into his chest before I could even blink. A drop of blood slipped down the metal, briefly illuminating it. I stared mutely as the demon’s wound healed before my eyes.

He angled his head down. If either of us moved, our lips would touch. I didn’t so much as breathe too deeply. “A dagger to the heart hurts, witch, but it’ll take much more than that to destroy a prince of Hell. If you still think I’m lying, go ahead and stab me.”

A wild part of me wished to test the theory, if only to determine if he was being honest. Another, quieter part still reeling with grief wanted to hand him the blade and see if my protection charm really worked. I decided now wasn’t the time for foolish risks and sheathed his weapon.

I stepped away from him, trying not to think of it as retreating. He made no move to stop or pursue me, only watched as I put a few feet of space between us.

“Will you at least tell me about the curse? I think we could—”

Wrath set his candle on the stone altar and was before me a breath later. And he was entirely too close—his back brushed against my chest. I lifted my hands, ready to shove him, when I heard the faint sound of footsteps heading our way.

“Did you tell anyone we were coming here?” Wrath asked. I shook my head, terrified Greed or Envy had tracked us. Wrath’s body was coiled, ready to strike. I did my best to calm my breaths.

“Hello?” A familiar, deep voice called out from the corridor.

“Blood and bones.” I threw my head back and groaned. “Not now.”

Wrath shot me a look over his shoulder. “Someone you know?”

I nodded and the demon relaxed his fighting stance. Light from a lantern preceded our visitor into the room, and I internally cursed the interruption. Wrath stepped aside and appeared downright jovial at my annoyance. I ignored him as Antonio walked in and promptly halted.

“Emilia.” Antonio’s gaze warmed when it landed on me, only to narrow when he saw I wasn’t alone. He glanced between me and my minacious companion, clearly at a loss for words. “I heard voices . . .” His focus drifted back to Wrath, took in the serpent tattoo that started from the top of the demon’s hand, coiled around his wrist, and disappeared up his sleeve. Then his gaze shifted between the matching ink on both of our forearms. His look was unreadable. Antonio stood straighter. “Is everything all right?”

Wrath inspected Antonio in a way that sent goose bumps skittering over my body.

I quickly put myself between them and offered my old friend a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry if we were too loud. I asked . . .” I hesitated. I couldn’t very well call him “Wrath.” The demon prince shifted into view. He gave me a slight shake of his head. It was hard to tell if it was a warning to not give his name, or if he was simply getting a better look at my discomfort. “My friend Samael is visiting and we wanted to light a candle for Vittoria.”

Antonio didn’t seem convinced and I couldn’t blame him. I wasn’t a very good actress. I really hoped he didn’t keep asking questions. If I had to guess, lying to a holy man in a place of worship in the presence of a demon who was on a secret mission for the devil was probably bad luck. “Unusual name,” he finally said. “Where did you say he was visiting from?”

“She didn’t. Would you like to fetch us some sacramental wine and delve into my lineage?” Wrath flashed a look that bordered on predatory. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better, either. Especially if you’re such a good friend of my Emilia’s.”

Wrath said the word “friend” like he thought Antonio was anything but. My mouth hung open for an entirely different reason, though. I couldn’t begin to understand why Wrath had said “my Emilia’s.” Honestly, I wasn’t sure if the demon even remembered my name since he only ever tossed around “witch.”

Antonio seemed just as stunned. “Your—”

“Apologies, Antonio.” I recovered quickly and shot Wrath a warning look as I slipped my arm through the fratello’s, swiftly angling him toward the door. I’d wager anything the Prince of Wrath was only trying to make my friend angry so he could siphon those emotions, just like Envy had done to me. “You’ll have to forgive his rudeness; his journey was long and it’s not under the most pleasant circumstances.”

Antonio’s arm had a surprising bit of muscle hidden beneath his robes, but he didn’t try and stop me as I guided him into the corridor.

“Is it all right if we stay for a few more minutes to say our prayers?”

Antonio looked down into my eyes, and his expression softened. “Of course. I’ll be in the next corridor near the colatoio if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

I exhaled as he slowly made his way down the hall toward the preparation room, waiting until his lantern could no longer be seen before I reentered the chamber. Wrath leaned against the altar and stared at me, one brow arched. It was one of the most human expressions I’d ever seen him wear. “Samael, really? That was the best name you could come up with?”