Kingdom of the Wicked (Kingdom of the Wicked, #1)(71)

“Even an invisible one?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” I said. “I want you to cast a ward around your home immediately, and mine if you can, too. Do you need blood for the spell?” She dropped her gaze again and nodded. I figured as much. Dark magic demanded payment. I let go of her hands and rolled back one of the sheer sleeves on my blouse. “I’ll just need a knife, two vials, some lavender oil, and a bandage.”

“Emilia, you can’t—”

“I can,” I said, firmly. “I want to help any way I can.”

“All right.” My friend pushed herself to her feet. Her sadness had been replaced by something sharper, angrier. Something I recognized in myself now, too. “I’ll fetch the blade.”





Thirty-Three

Wrath didn’t utter one word when I barged into his stolen palace and marched up the stairs. I imagined he sensed my raging emotions and was courteous enough to give me a wide berth.

He watched in silence, one annoying brow raised, as I tugged at the bandage on my arm and disappeared from view. On the third floor, down the end of an elegant hallway, I found a room that was five times the size of the bedroom I’d shared with Vittoria.

I should have probably hated it for being so beautiful, but couldn’t.

It had ice blue walls with a sunshine-colored tapestry and a four-poster bed—smack in the middle—that I could roll across at least three times and not topple off of. A tiled bathing chamber with a sunken tub and floor-length mirror was attached, and even with a few cracks and chips, I decided it would definitely do.

Though, given the newness of the bed and tapestry, maybe I hadn’t been the first person to think I’d like this room. I wanted to be annoyed that Wrath guessed right, but was exhausted and didn’t have the capacity to feel much of anything. It had been a long terrible day.

I unpacked my own blanket, flicked it across the mattress, and smoothed it down. I tossed the pillow on next, and even though it wasn’t much, it felt a little more like home. Especially since home didn’t feel like home after my room had been invaded and destroyed. Before I started crying again, I went into the bathing chamber and turned on the water.

After I scrubbed my face clean and brushed out my hair, I decided my next order of business was a nap. I walked into my room and halted. Wrath sprawled across my commandeered bed, one arm draped over his torso, the other bent behind his dark head.

His position was forced casual, but the sharpness of his gaze gave his tension away. He was dressed in black again, and looked like the kind of man who’d wear it from head to toe. I wondered who he planned on beating tonight, given his reasons for liking the color so much.

“Are you all right?”

I crossed my arms and gave him a flat look. “No.”

He narrowed his eyes, his attention fixed on my bandage. “What happened?”

I lifted a shoulder. I wasn’t in the mood to answer his questions. But I wanted him to answer some of mine. “Greed and Envy both want the Horn of Hades. You must want it, too. Why not take this half from me?”

Wrath didn’t rise to the bait, but his expression hardened along with his tone. “Why don’t you just ask the question you’re really interested in knowing?”

“My sister’s diary was stolen. Someone ripped our room apart and destroyed her things.”

“And you believe I had something to do with it?” His eyes appraised me. “It’s not just a diary, is it?”

“No.” I blew out a frustrated breath. “She placed some locking spell on it, using demon magic. I managed to break it, but it didn’t give me the answers I’d been looking for.”

Wrath quietly considered the information I shared. It was a peace offering for snapping at him, and he looked like he understood that. “I would have helped you break the spell if you asked me to.”

I crossed the room and flopped onto the bed next to him, ignoring the indignant glare he shot in my direction as he bounced in place. I was bone tired, and just wanted the day to be over. After the revelation about the gates of Hell weakening, my next priority was to find my amulet. If I had the whole Horn of Hades, I might be able to lock the gates before any other demons broke free. But I needed to get some sleep so I could think straight. “Do we have anything planned tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Has someone else made a deal with Pride?”

He nodded. “Isabella Crisci.”

“When do we leave?”

“Dusk.”

I tugged the pillow out from behind him, stuffed it under my head, and closed my eyes. A solid thirty seconds of blessed silence passed before he poked me in the ribs. I cracked an eye. “Do that again, and I’ll slap you with a containment spell.”

“What are you doing?”

“Preparing for war. Now go away.”

He muttered something under his breath I didn’t catch. Nor did I care to. I hadn’t been entirely sarcastic. I needed to be well rested and sharp to find my cornicello, and to prepare for whatever other hellish nightmare the evening would bring.




When I woke up several blissful hours later, Wrath was gone. Thank the stars. Sometimes, especially when I was exhausted, I had a tendency to roll around and talk in my sleep. Vittoria used to tease me endlessly, which was embarrassing enough, but it would have been painfully awkward if it happened in front of the demon prince.