Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (111)

And if I was wrong… I’d have to pray to the goddesses I wasn’t, or I’d be joining Vittoria in our family’s tomb before the night was through.





THIRTY-THREE


Wrath wasn’t in his chambers, nor his library. I checked his balcony and was about to march down into the Crescent Shallows when I decided to pass through the kitchens.

It was one of the last places I expected to find the demon of war, but there he stood, back to me, knife in hand, carving a chunk of hard cheese and adding the perfect cubes to a tray he’d already filled with various fruits.

“You do not need an invitation to join me, Emilia.” He hadn’t turned to face me. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to be in my company.”

“I sought you out. I should think that indicates I want your company.”

“After you drugged me to get out of my bedchamber, I wondered if that changed.”

“That… it had nothing to do with you.”

He continued chopping, the knife thwacking the cutting board. “It felt pretty personal, given what had transpired between us.”

“I—”

“You do not need to explain yourself.”

“I wasn’t going to. I was going to apologize that you were a casualty of what I needed to do.” Silence stretched between us. “How long were you knocked out?”

“You cannot expect me to share that information.”

“No, I suppose I don’t.”

I strode over to where he worked, admiring his knife skills. The way he’d laid out the fruits and presented them was also impressive. Figs were cut neatly in quarters, berries and grapes laid in appealing heaps. He’d even found a pomegranate.

“I didn’t think you enjoyed spending time in a kitchen.”

“Neither did I.” He lifted a shoulder, his gaze focused solely on his task. “I don’t care much for baking or mixing, but butchering, cutting, and slicing are oddly relaxing.”

I grinned. Of course that part of the kitchen would appeal to him. Instead of commenting or breaking the moment, I plucked a slice of apple from the platter and popped it into my mouth. I was stalling and well knew it. So much for my test of bravery.

“In some mortal religions, apples are said to be the forbidden fruit.”

Wrath paused for less than a heartbeat, but I’d been paying close attention. He did not lift his attention from his mission. “For someone who was raised with witches, I’m surprised you spent so much time with human beliefs.”

I chose another piece of fruit. “I’ve also heard that figs, grapes, and pomegranates are contenders for the forbidden fruit.”

“You’ve put a great amount of thought into forbidden foods.”

“I visited the Curse Tree.” He kept carefully cutting the hunk of cheddar on his board. I moved around the other side of the table so I could face him. “I made a bargain with the Crone. And something she said made me think of forbidden fruit and trees of knowledge.”

Wrath’s knuckles were white as he gripped the knife tighter. “And?”

“I wanted to know about my sister, but she insisted I needed to discover my truth first. To face my fears. She said part of my truth can be found if I acknowledge who you are.” His gaze collided with mine. “She told me to carve your true name into the tree.”

“Please tell me you refused to do so. The Crone is worse than my brothers.”

I slowly shook my head and set the ebony and silver-veined leaf down. Wrath stared at it, looking as if I’d brought a viper into the room. I raised my fist to smash it and his hand shot out, covering mine. He tugged me close, holding my hand against his heart. It was pounding fiercely.

“We will go back and strike another deal with the Crone.”

I drew back enough to look him in the eye. “You’re nervous.”

“You carved a name into a tree that demands blood in exchange for truth.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “Of course I’m wary.”

I moved my free hand to cup his face. That wasn’t the full truth behind his nerves and we both knew it. “I know who you are.”

“I highly doubt that.”

His tone indicated if I knew his truth, I would not be standing so near, embracing him as I was. His secret terrified me, but I would never get past it if I didn’t bring it into the light. I would never discover who I was, what happened to my twin, if I remained afraid of the truth. The Crone was right. I’d grown accustomed to the dark, I’d been kept in it for so long. First from Nonna, and now by my own design. It was time to set aside my fears and step into the light.

Before he could register what I was doing, I kicked the table as hard as I could, sending it tumbling over, the fruit and cheese and Cursed leaf shattering in the rubble.

He wrapped his arms around me, as if he could shield me from the Curse Tree collecting its price. But I did not feel any sudden onslaught of pain. Nor did I weaken or lose consciousness. I did not die. Did not even bleed.

Wrath held me tighter, his breathing coming hard and fast.

Tears suddenly pricked my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Standing there, safe in the circle of Wrath’s arms, meant I was right. And the Crone was correct once more.

Now that I possessed the truth, I didn’t know what to do with it. I thought I’d been prepared, thought I could handle his secret being out in the open. I’d been wrong.