Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (118)

“Devil’s blood, Emilia. I thought…” He sheathed his blade and offered a hand. “Are you hurt? Wrath couldn’t detect you anywhere.”

“Where is he?”

“You’re bleeding.”

I could not care less. “Where is he?”

“He just left for the Sin Corridor. It’s the only place he can’t sense you.”

“I need to get to the dungeon tower. Get Wrath. Now.”

Anir shouted something, perhaps a curse, or a plea, but I didn’t dare stop. I had no way of knowing if the scene I’d been shown was the present or future. But one way or another, my sister was here or would be here, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream or collapse in tears.

I raced up the stairs, up and up as I climbed with energy and strength that seemed to be endless. Without stopping to collect myself, I wrenched the door open. Wrath said he had magicked it to my hand, and he hadn’t lied.

“Antonio?” I called out, fully stepping into the room. A taper smoked from the chairside table, as if it had just been blown out or had been snuffed by fast movement. My hand moved to my dagger. The room was not large, only big enough to house his bed, the small reading nook, and a curtained screen to offer privacy as he washed and used a chamber pot. I stared at the screen. There was no sound coming from behind it. “Hello?”

A prickle of unease slid down my spine as I slowly made my way to the screen and whatever lay hidden beyond. I yanked the curtain back and blew out a frustrated breath.

There, set next to a pitcher and washbasin, was another enchanted skull. My heartbeat quickened as I drew near, waiting, body tensed, to hear its message. It came to life just as I closed the distance with my final step.

“Come to the Shifting Isles, sister. We have much to discuss about breaking the remainder of our curse. Answers await your arrival. Until then. Stand back.”

I didn’t think, I leapt aside and the skull exploded into glittering dust, leaving nothing but the chilling message ringing in my ears. I stood there, chest heaving as the impossible became real. My sister was alive.

Vittoria lived.

I choked on a mad giggle that bubbled up from my throat. Vittoria could come home. We could go back to Nonna, and our parents. We could cook and laugh and teach our own daughters how to cook in Sea & Vine. Life would resume. We could still have the future we’d dreamed of. Together. And if somehow she couldn’t return to the mortal world, I would stay here. No matter what, we would be reunited soon. She’d been here. I’d missed her by minutes, seconds.

Lighthearted relief slowly descended into something darker as my shock wore off. Vittoria had been here, so close, and yet she’d taken Antonio and vanished without seeing me.

She left an enchanted skull with a message. As if she’d been too busy to bother with a simple visit to my chambers. Or wait until I arrived here. Tonight. She had to have sensed me. And she’d still left. As if I didn’t matter at all and my shattered heart meant even less.

I’d spent months lost in rage and vengeance.

Months of sorrow and fury.

Of mourning.

All the while, my twin was alive. Well. Better than well if her new, powerful magic was any indication. My twin had been enchanting skulls. Leaving them like morbid clues. When all she had to do was sneak into my room. Instead she toyed with me. Tried breaking me.

And she’d almost turned me into a monster.

I inhaled deeply and exhaled. The air like fire in my lungs. Wrath’s lessons on controlling my emotions incinerated in the face of my fury. My twin was alive. She’d come for Antonio. And it hadn’t been to attack him or make him pay for what he’d done.

On the contrary, he looked as if he’d received a blessing. He called her his angel. As in, the angel of death he’d mentioned the night in the monastery. I thought he’d been referencing Wrath or another prince of Hell. If he never killed Vittoria, then that meant he’d never been influenced by a demon prince. I had no proof yet, but I had new suspicions.

Deception. Lies. Betrayal.

All the words I’d associated with the Wicked now belonged to Vittoria. She’d orchestrated everything—a playwright crafting her own twisted tale, doling out roles for unsuspecting players, myself included. And I was through with being a pawn in her game.

No matter that her end goal was to break the curse, she had no right to lie to me. To keep me in the dark. I was no longer cloaked in shadows. I was burning with rage.

My hands stung. I glanced down, noticing the tiny cuts in my palms where my nails dug in so hard I’d broken the skin. I exhaled, banking the fires of anger at last.

I had a new plan, a new direction. I would gladly pay my beloved sister a visit. And I could not help it if she soon regretted extending her invitation. It was high time Vittoria met the furious, unforgiving witch she’d helped to create.

I turned on my heel and headed for the door. The Shifting Isles beckoned. But there was one final thing that needed to be done before I left House Wrath.





I strode through the corridors, mind whirling with strategies and plans. I no longer cared who had started playing these games. Witches. The Wicked. My twin. And all the cursed and feared creatures in between. If my sister was alive that threw into question the murders that came before and after hers. Were any of the witches actually dead, or was it part of some larger conspiracy to accumulate more power or transfer it? I had no idea what else the true “killers” would gain by committing fake murders, unless they were hoping to incite a war between realms, and not simply break the curse.