Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (36)

He sipped his wine, then ran a finger around its rim, his attention never leaving my lips. The anger I’d been fighting to keep at a low simmer slowly began to boil the longer he stared.

I wondered what sort of impression I’d make on House Wrath if I maimed him before the next course. Given Wrath’s banishment of “guttings at gatherings,” I imagined it had once been a fairly regular occurrence. As the future queen, I might escape any true punishment. Facing Wrath’s ire might be worth it just to wipe that repulsive look from Makaden’s face.

“I’ve been cautioned against speaking of your tongue, my lady, so I won’t comment on its sharpness. However, since you’ve brought mouths up, I can’t help but wonder. You seem to be enjoying the meat well enough, but has that perfect little mouth of yours ever tasted cock?”

My jaw clenched so tightly, I was surprised Wrath didn’t hear the grinding of my teeth. Lord Makaden was not referencing a chicken dish, though his words were clever enough he might pretend otherwise. I slowly exhaled. He was trying to get a rise out of me.

I refused to let him succeed.

“If not, we’ll have to remedy that soon. Tonight, perhaps?” He dipped his finger into the wine, then slowly sucked the liquid off. The wide smile he gave me didn’t reach his hate-filled eyes. I briefly fantasized about popping those beady things from his head. “I’ll even prepare it for you myself. I’ve been told, on more than one occasion, how good mine is.”

My grip tightened on my dinner knife. I wanted nothing more than to shove it into his heart. Without giving much thought to the consequences, I lifted the blade and stood, my beautiful chair scratching along the stone in shrill warning.

The room drew in a collective gasp. It was the last sound that was made before Lord Makaden’s garbled screaming began. Warm liquid sprayed across my chest and face. I was so startled, I dropped the knife and wiped at my cheeks. My fingers were coated in red liquid.

A second later the metallic scent hit my throat. Blood. Blood was now splattered across the evergreen garland on the table, across me. My attention fell to the source of gore.

On the place set before the vile lord sat a severed, impaled tongue.

I stared down at my dinner knife, unblinking, unsure if I’d attacked him. Then I noticed Wrath’s House dagger. It still vibrated from the force he’d used to shove it through the plate and then that far into the table. I let out a quiet breath, unable to look away. The lavender gemstones in the snake’s eyes glowed in fury. Or maybe bloodlust.

I’d forgotten how the dagger gloried in its offerings.

“Dinner is over,” the demon prince declared, his voice dangerously low. He yanked his bloodied blade free. “Get out.”





TEN


Chairs and benches scraped across the stone floor at once. Anir was at my elbow a moment later, his grip firm but gentle as he escorted me out of the royal dining hall and up a flight of stairs hidden behind a vibrant garden tapestry.

I was so shocked, I didn’t protest. Nor did I look to see if Wrath had followed us. Perhaps he was butchering the rest of Makaden. Skewering various organs to put on pikes outside the castle, a generous offering to whatever carrion birds circled these cursed skies. Goddess above. I still heard the faint echo of the wretched lord’s howls. They chilled me to the core.

“How?” I could hardly comprehend the last sixty seconds. Wrath had moved so fast I hadn’t registered the attack until it was over. And then he’d stood there, quietly commanding everyone to leave as if he hadn’t just brutally divested someone of a body part…

I rubbed my arms; the stairwell felt unbearably cold all of a sudden.

“Watch your steps. The stones are uneven in this corridor.”

I gathered up my skirts and focused on climbing the stairs as quickly as my shoes and gown allowed. My shock was incrementally giving way to a different emotion altogether. One that surprised me as much as the sudden burst of violence. My grip tightened almost painfully on my gown, as if I was now strangling the material.

Anir led us up flight after flight, occasionally tossing glances over his shoulder, his free hand resting on the hilt of his blade. I couldn’t imagine anyone being brave or stupid enough to follow us, especially after the blood-soaked scene we escaped from.

Wrath exploded from an insinuation. If someone tried physical harm or assault, a swift death would be a kindness. And there had been no hint of kindness in the demon prince’s face.

Only cold fury.

Which was much worse. A hot temper eventually burned out, but the ice that coated the prince’s features was glacial. Centuries would pass and his anger would remain fresh.

We exited through a hidden panel at the top of the stairs and a slight tingling sensation passed over me. Anir didn’t speak again until we stood outside the door to my suite.

Even there his sharp gaze swept around the empty corridor as if he expected trouble to materialize. I did not share his concern. My private rooms were near the end of this wing and there was only one other set of doors here. Regardless if Makaden had allies, furious demons driven wild with the sin of their chosen House, Wrath would eliminate them with nary a thought.

If my anger was an aphrodisiac to him, his court’s anger likely nourished and fed his power in droves. Wrath thrived on fury in every sense of the word.

I glanced down the opposite end of the corridor; an ornate iron gate had dropped from the ceiling, locking out anyone who tried to enter this section. My jaw ached from how hard I now clenched it. Being caged in didn’t thrill me, but at least there was another exit in the secret panel if I wanted to leave. One that was magically warded, if the tingling sensation was any indication. Wrath had used the same magic back in my realm to protect me from his brothers.