Kingdom of the Wicked (Kingdom of the Wicked, #1)(66)

I took a few deep breaths.

“How did you know where I was?” He gave me a long, measured look, then glanced pointedly at the tattoo on my arm. I was definitely going to kill him. “You said you could only find me if I accepted the blood trade. You never mentioned the tattoo.”

“If I told you the ink was part of a marriage bond, you would have immediately run. I needed you to have time to trust me.”

I went to argue, but shut my mouth. It was true. If I’d known what the tattoo meant the first night I’d summoned him, I would have sent him straight back to his realm. “Trust is usually earned because both parties are honest.”

“I have not lied to you.”

I loosened a breath. “Not technically, no.”

A waitress came out and cheerfully recited the menu. Wrath seemed skeptical, but let me do the ordering without complaint. Thirty minutes of strained silence later, she brought out our food. Wrath considered it as if it were a complicated equation he was sorting out.

One steaming plate of scampi, some arancini, a platter of antipasto—stacked with prosciutto, peperoncini, soppressata, provolone, marinated olives, and artichokes tossed with oil, vinegar, oregano, and basil—and a basket of grilled bread graced our little table.

I kept waiting for the demon to pull the waitress aside and ask for warmed blood or raw innards, but he seemed content with my choices and I certainly wasn’t going to be the one to put the idea of uncooked offal in his head.

Wrath did surprise me by ordering a pitcher of red wine with orange slices, and poured a generous amount for each of us. I sipped my wine, enjoying the sweetness of it despite myself. I wanted to escape from my dark thoughts for a while, and the dinner and wine were helping. I hadn’t slept all night and it felt good to just collect myself and regroup. Wrath piled a plate with food, and slid it in front of me before serving himself. It took all of my concentration to not topple out of my chair from the shock.

He caught my eye and scowled. “Good manners are hard to break, no matter how unpleasant the company I’m forced to keep. Plus, you served me the dessert. It’s only fair to return the favor.”

I smiled, which seemed to rankle him more, and tucked into my food.

After a few minutes of watching him poking around at the scampi, I skewered one with my fork and held it out to him. His suspicion deepened. “What are you doing?”

“This is langostino. It’s like a baby lobster. I’m pretty sure you’ll like it. Unless you’re afraid . . .”

Wrath accepted the shellfish as if in challenge. He must have enjoyed it, because his focus shifted to his plate and he didn’t look up again until he’d sampled a bit of everything.

While he experienced the wonder of human food, I ate my scampi, enjoying the fresh lemon they’d used to cut the richness of the butter. Theirs was a bit heavier with citrus than ours, and I decided to experiment one day soon.

Maybe if I sliced a lemon in half, and grilled it facedown—

I paused, fork to mouth. I’d been enjoying myself so much I almost forgot the reason I was sitting there, with one of the Malvagi, eating. A month. My twin had been gone for a little more than a month, and I was daydreaming about recipes for Sea & Vine while in the company of our worst enemy. The food turned to stone in my stomach.

I pushed my plate away, no longer hungry.

Wrath watched me in a way a human might study a fly buzzing over their dinner. “Experiencing a moral dilemma, witch?”

I couldn’t muster an ounce of anger or annoyance. A hard blade of truth carved into me; I had no idea what I was doing. I was pretty sure my sister had summoned a demon, but didn’t know which one. I knew about the Horn of Hades, but didn’t know how we came to be the keepers of it.

Then there were the cryptic clues in Vittoria’s diary about her ability to hear magical objects, and the possibility of the first book of spells being in this world. I knew my sister agreed to become the devil’s bride, but still hadn’t figured out why she’d made that awful choice, or why she didn’t confide in me or our grandmother.

I had more questions than answers, and no one I could fully trust. Nonna almost died because of my quest for justice, and I refused to put anyone else in my family in danger by going to them for anything related to the murder. While Wrath might have saved me, he was a prince of Hell, and even though he’d vowed to not force a witch into a bargain, I still didn’t know how or why he was picked for this mission.

I leaned forward and dropped my voice. “I want to know everything about the curse.”

I stared at him, and his gold eyes—speckled with black—gazed back. “Have you considered moving in with me until we find the murderer?”

A most unexpected deflection. “I have.”

“Where are your belongings?”

“At home.”

He swirled his wine around, and I wondered what, exactly, he was thinking. “Would you like me to escort you there while you retrieve them?”

“I haven’t told you what I’ve decided.” I eyed him. “And I want you to answer my question. If Pride is the one who’s cursed, how does that affect you?”

“We should go back to the palace, and speak there.”

“Not until you give me some answers.”

Wrath looked like he was considering different ways to string me up using my innards. “I will. Later.”