Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (39)

I wet my lips, recalling our earlier kiss. “I only spoke the truth.”

Wrath stared into my eyes before tearing his gaze away with obvious effort. He did not deny being jealous. Nor did he appear surprised by the emotion. I wondered if he’d already identified it and was unsure what to do with the knowledge. Not that much could be done if either of us entertained the thought. I was promised to his brother. And his duty to that mission would always come first. What happened earlier between us would not happen again.

His hand fell away, my skin instantly missing his heat, while my mind reeled with confusion over my conflicted feelings.

“I’ll see that you have your blade and first lesson tomorrow. Good night.”

This time, there was no hesitation on his part. He disappeared through a doorway covered with sheer panels, and, feeling dismissed, I finally turned and headed out the way I’d come. I paused just inside the entrance to the antechamber, my feet unwilling to carry me from the room. I knew I should leave; I’d gotten what I’d come for, but something held me back.

I drifted into the bedroom, closer to those billowing panels, and peered through them.

Wrath had escaped onto a balcony. He stood with his back to me, staring out toward the snow-covered hills and mountains jutting up in the distance, a bottle of wine perched beside him on the railing. The temperature never seemed to affect him. It certainly hadn’t prevented him from sleeping outdoors during the storm. Perhaps it was another perk of immortality.

Or maybe I’d gotten it slightly wrong earlier, maybe he wasn’t always cold fury. Maybe he possessed fire, too. And his ability to withstand the cold was simply the heat of his constant wrath, simmering, blazing, warming him more than the icy elements could hope to infiltrate.

My attention drifted to his drink again. Frost crept up the side of the glass, creating little spiderwebs of ice. The liquid inside the bottle was unlike anything I’d ever seen at home; similar to merlot or chianti, but not a deep red. It was a purple so dark it almost appeared black, but that wasn’t the most unusual or beautiful part. Silver specks floated like glittery bubbles all throughout it. Wrath topped off his glass and swirled it, setting the silver glinting into a frenzy.

It looked like he’d created his own shimmering galaxy. He set the glass on the railing beside him and inclined his head. “If you’re going to continue lurking in my bedchamber, you might as well drink this. It’ll help you sleep.”

I thought about returning to my room, but curiosity got the better of me. I moved across the balcony and examined the glass without touching it. “It won’t make me jump over the railing and dive into the snow, will it?”

Instead of answering, Wrath swiped the glass away and drank deeply. He handed it back and looked at me. Challenge lit his dark gaze.

I briefly fantasized about shoving him over the railing into the snowbank below, but I imagined he’d bring me with him and something about our bodies falling together made my heart race. Not because I feared the fall or getting hurt; I knew Wrath would maneuver us so he’d hit the ground. It was where I’d land that caused the uptick in my pulse.

I settled on sipping the starlike liquid. It was… delicious.

“Well?” he asked. “What do you think?”

“I love it.”

“I thought you might.” His voice turned quiet, contemplative. As if he hadn’t meant to speak aloud or admit that. I wished I possessed a tiny bit of his ability to sense emotions. I was curious to know what he was feeling, why he sounded resigned.

I took another small sip and focused on the flavors. Something spicy, like fresh ginger. A bit of citrus, similar to lime. And there was a deep richness that blended the two perfectly. Not rum, but something close. I finished the rest of my glass and contemplated pouring more.

Wrath grinned. “Demonberry wine is one of the two finer offerings of this realm.”

I picked up the bottle and shook it a little. The liquid glimmered like stardust. It was one of the most magnificent things I’d ever seen. “What makes it look like the night sky?”

“Those are demonberry seeds. They’re small enough to look like bubbles. Or stars.”

I topped off my glass and leaned against the railing. I was a little chilly, but I was far from cold. Maybe it was the wine heating me from the inside. From here I could clearly see the fiery lake that separated this stretch of territory from the ornate castle in the far distance. A bridge connected the two swaths of land, dark waters churning like a bubbling cauldron below.

For a second, I considered telling Wrath about the magic I summoned. I nodded toward the castle instead. “Which royal House is that?”

Wrath followed my gaze. “Pride’s.”

I took another sip of my drink. Demonberries fizzled on my tongue. It was suddenly so quiet I could hear the slight crackle as the bubbles popped in the glass. “Have you heard from him yet?”

“No.”

“Does he know I’m here?”

“He does.”

I sighed. I sincerely hoped Pride would get over his namesake sin soon enough and send his cursed invitation. I wanted to solve the full truth of my sister’s murder and return to my family before I was old and gray. Or before they were old and gray. I’d likely not age much while here. That thought pierced the armor I’d erected around my heart, so I pushed it away.