Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (33)

Not that I would have noticed either way.

There was an odd feeling in my chest; a slight tugging or gnawing or peculiar combination of the two. At first I thought it was panic fluttering against my ribs, fear over what had just transpired between us, but that wasn’t quite right. The feeling was slowly pooling out, traveling from my heart like a meandering stream along the underside of my arm.

Wrath turned his head in my direction, a deep furrow forming in his brow.

I glanced down at what he’d been staring at. My cornicello glowed that pale, unearthly purple of a human’s luccicare. It had happened twice before. Once when I’d first found Wrath standing over the corpse of my twin. And again when I’d found my amulet half-buried in a tunnel after it had been stolen. Right before the almost incorporeal Umbra demons had attacked and Envy had stuck his House dagger deep into Wrath’s belly.

My hands curled into fists as I remembered the way Wrath’s blood had dried on my hands, under my nails. The utter feeling of…

“Breathe.” His voice was deep and calming. “We will make introductions, then leave if you do not wish to stay and dine with them.”

“I’m not nervous.”

And I was surprised to discover that was true. I let go of Wrath’s arm and brushed my fingers over the cool metal of the amulet for comfort, an old habit I’d probably never break. The devil’s horns, I reminded myself with a small shudder. Not an amulet to ward off evil. This necklace was no longer the innocent charm I’d believed it was all my life.

Upon contact, a small current passed into my skin, alarming me enough to yank my hand back. That was new. I flicked my attention to Wrath. “Did you see that?”

He nodded, not taking his gaze from the shrunken devil horn. Concern was still present in his features. “Are you able to wear it during the meal?”

“Of course,” I said. “I’ve worn it for almost two decades.”

“If you experience anything uncomfortable, tell me immediately.”

Wrath seemed on the verge of saying something else but changed his mind at the last moment. Now my heartbeat quickened. “Uncomfortable how?”

“Anything unusual. No matter how small or seemingly innocuous.”

I was about to tell him of the tingling sensation, but it faded into nothing before the words could form on my tongue. Perhaps it was only nerves getting the better of me. I’d traveled to the underworld with one of the Wicked, made a blood bargain with the devil, and was seconds away from meeting the Prince of Wrath’s scheming court of demons.

Not to mention, I’d just been thoroughly ravished by someone who was not my intended and my lips were probably swollen in accusation. While my emotional feelings for Wrath were much more complex, I hadn’t disliked the kiss. In fact, it seemed to have unlocked a truth I didn’t want to examine closely. He’d asked if I could bed someone I hated, and while my mind still churned with anger over his betrayal, my body responded to his touch.

I couldn’t imagine Pride taking the news of my tryst with his brother well. Who knew if he had spies in this court, eager and ready to report back any unsavory business? While I wouldn’t mind sowing seeds of discord among the two Houses, I did not want to alienate my betrothed and ruin my chance to solve Vittoria’s murder. I had every right to be nervous. It would be odd if I wasn’t.

Wrath leaned in and skimmed his knuckles over my neck, his voice as soft as his touch. Whatever magic fueled his summoning Mark instantly calmed me. “Ready?”

I nodded. He studied my face and must have seen I was indeed primed for my introduction to House Wrath. Without warning, he spun on his heel and kicked in the doors.

He strode through them right as they crashed against the wall, his footsteps claps of thunder in the sudden silence. My breath caught. It was not at all the way I’d imagined making our grand entrance. Given his penchant for fine clothing and impeccable manners, I thought he’d be more… genteel or refined. I should know better than to assume anything about him.

A wave of smartly dressed demons dropped to their knees, their heads bowed and eyes lowered as he stalked into the room. Wrath paused several paces inside the large dining hall and waited for me to make my way to him. My steps were slow and steady, unlike my pulse.

It felt like both an eternity and only a mere second had passed before I crossed the room, gown whispering over the stone, and halted near the Prince of Wrath.

When he spoke, his voice was laced with royal command. “Rise. And bid Her Highness Emilia Maria di Carlo, your future queen, welcome.”

The goddesses must have been watching over me because I managed to swallow my shock without showing it. I subtly turned to Wrath, a question in my eyes. I had not been told about the “her highness” part. I imagined that would happen after the coronation, or whatever the demon equivalent was. The corner of his mouth twitched before his expression hardened again and he addressed the sea of curious demons in that cool, unforgiving tone.

“Remember what I said about respect. As a prince of Hell’s intended, Lady Emilia’s status has been elevated. You will only address her as ‘her highness’ or ‘my lady.’ Insult her, and you will answer to me.”

Wrath stared at one lord in particular, and I assumed it was the one Fauna said he’d already threatened. I would not want to be on the receiving end of that look—it was cold enough to cause a shudder in surrounding nobles. And they did not seem like the kind of subjects who were easily cowed.