Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (113)

“Has anything been real between us, or has it been a careful seduction? A bit of truth sprinkled in with the lies.”

“Tell me.” His eyes narrowed. “When you agreed to marry Pride, thinking he was the devil, did it matter then?”

Unbidden, a memory came back to me. “In the Crescent Shallows, the night we… you called me your queen.”

“You came here, believing you’d be Queen of the Wicked. That is all true. If you choose to complete our marriage bond, you will be not simply my queen, but the queen.” He searched my face, his expression turning remote. “The only change is which brother you will be marrying. Everyone in this realm knows who I am. My true title. It’s only mortals who assume otherwise. So, I ask once more, does it truly matter now that you know who I am?”

“I’m honestly not sure. It’s a lot to absorb. You are the devil. Evil incarnate.”

“Is that who you know me to be?”

“Outside of this realm, it’s what the whole world thinks of you.”

“I am not interested in what others think. Only you.” He stepped back and inclined his head. His movements stiff. “Thank you for your honesty. That is all I needed to hear, my lady.”

“Wrath, wait. I—”

He vanished in a glittering cloud of smoke.





THIRTY-FOUR


“I’m sorry,” I whispered to the empty room. Smoke hung in the air several long moments after Wrath left. I stared at it, eyes burning, wishing I could cast a spell to reverse time. It would be so much easier to simply forget what had happened. Or, better yet, forget the truth of his name. His title. And the way my heart ached at the thought of any or everything between us being part of some larger game.

I leaned a hip against a table, surveying the mess on the floor. It seemed a fitting metaphor of my life. Each time I thought I was closing in on the truth surrounding my twin’s murder, something new got added to the heap, distracting me with more trash to pick through.

Thanks to the curse being sentient and having an active role in keeping its secrets, it was nearly impossible to fit the puzzle pieces together.

An old worry crept back in. I’d started to think I’d been experiencing forgotten memories, usually after or during some romantic encounters with Wrath.

If I wasn’t the consort, was I the First Witch? I’d been almost convinced the Matron of Curses and Poisons was the First Witch, but now that seemed less likely. I couldn’t imagine Wrath keeping her around, knowing that she’d stolen his wings.

Was locating the First Witch the true reason behind the murders? It would make sense for someone to try and find her and make her pay for all she’d stolen. And if every prince of Hell lost their wings, or something as precious, then it could be any one of them.

If I was the First Witch, it would also make sense why Wrath had hated me the night I’d summoned him. He’d called me a creature then, swearing he’d never be tempted by me when I’d mistakenly believed demon bargains were sealed with addictive kisses.

“Congratulations, Emilia,” I scoffed. “You have fully given into madness. And paranoia.”

Speaking out loud to myself wasn’t helping to soothe worries of growing madness. I almost cackled at the thought. Maybe I was losing all sense of reality.

Perhaps there was a tonic I could take to rid all memories and foolish thoughts from my mind. Wipe the slate clean and begin anew.

I snorted. It was preposterous and… and entirely possible. There was someone in this castle who was gifted with creating tonics and tinctures. Someone who just might possess the skills needed to break any curse placed on me. First Witch or not, I could use her help.

I hurried to visit the Matron of Curses and Poisons, praying to every goddess I could think of that she would be in her tower.





“Daughter of the Moon.” Celestia gave me a bemused look as I rushed past her and motioned for her to close the door. “What brings you here?”

“Do you know who I am?”

It was hard to tell if her hesitation was out of concern for my well-being, or if she was treading carefully around the truth. “Yes, my lady.”

“Not my courtesy title. Have we met before?”

Now her perusal was sharper. “Have you ingested something peculiar?”

“No.” I walked in an agitated circle. “I experienced some memories that didn’t seem to belong to me at first. Now I’m not so sure. Is there a tonic you can give me? Something to detect a curse or break it?”

“Sit.” She glided over to the little table and stools she used to work. I followed and perched on the edge, knee bouncing. “Give me your hands.” I leaned over the table and did as she asked. “Sometimes forgetting can be a gift.”

I wrapped my hands around hers, thumbs resting on her wrists. “Do you speak from experience?”

“I speak as one who wishes for such a present.”

“Am I the First Witch?”

Celestia’s expression softened. “No, child.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

I released her hands and sat back. Her pulse hadn’t ticked faster for either of my questions. “I admit I’m only marginally relieved. The more I learn of her, the more she doesn’t sound like the hero of our fables.”