Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (53)

But that didn’t mean he was. For a multitude of reasons. Passion and lust couldn’t erase the lack of trust between us or the secrets we both kept. A good relationship was built on a solid foundation of honesty, and I didn’t even know his true name.

Aside from the real possibility of Wrath never fully allowing himself to love me, I was unsure if I could ever fully allow myself to love him. Bed him, certainly. Marry, perhaps. But to let go of everything else and accept him as he was, with all of his secrets? I wasn’t as sure.

“Goddess help me.” This was disastrous.

I’d been willing to have a marriage of convenience with Pride. But only because it granted me access to his House and a better understanding of how his wife’s murder might tie in with Vittoria’s. Binding myself to Wrath… I was unsure how that would assist in my mission.

If anything, all I came up with were more complications.

I tossed myself across the bed and summoned Source. My magic responded almost instantly, happy to be used while I was otherwise distracted. I created a garden’s worth of rose-gold burning flowers and floated them up to the ceiling, my mind returning to the two princes currently occupying the majority of my thoughts.

I didn’t know the first thing about Pride, other than the fact he was the devil. Wrath I was starting to know a little better, and being near him sometimes made the ache in my chest lessen. He didn’t erase memories of my twin—no one could ever do that—but when he was around, I found a perverse sense of peace arguing with him.

I released the hold on my magic, the flowers of flame slowly burning out. I watched as the petals became blackened embers that floated to the floor, extinguishing before they touched the carpet. I sighed, too distraught to be thrilled over my most impressive use of magic yet. It wasn’t the marriage bond that bothered me; it was the realization that my family hadn’t managed to drag me from the depths of my grief, but the demon prince had.

Some days I hated him for it, but there was a larger part of me that was grateful for his unwillingness to tolerate my fire burning out. He’d poke and prod and taunt me until I wanted nothing more than to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze. And it was far better to be angry rather than turn into a ghost of my former self from sadness and grief.

It had been a very long, restless night and this realm did nothing to ease my way as I cycled through emotions. Twice I’d gotten up, made it to the outer door, my hand hovering above the knob, then shook sense into myself and returned to bed.

I was here to find out the truth about my twin. The more I thought of Vittoria, the easier it became to distance myself from those other urges. And when those thoughts weren’t enough, I continued to delve into Source, creating a variety of flaming flowers in various sizes. I practiced extinguishing some flowers, while increasing the intensity of the flames on others.

When the gown arrived just before dawn, along with the olive branch ring Wrath had given me back in the mortal world, I’d been bleary-eyed opening the package, but pleased. It was solid black lace, with long fitted sleeves and a full skirt, but it wasn’t entirely modest. The sides were cut out from just under the upper part of my ribs to my waist.

Those open edges were lined with shimmering gold designs that reminded me of flowering vines. Snakes also twisted through the flora.

Temptation was what the dress should have been called if garments were given names.

Now, as we stepped into the dark emerald–colored antechamber outside Envy’s throne room, amidst a sea of waiting nobles clad in various shades of deep green silks and velvets, it was not lost on anyone that Wrath had chosen my clothing with greater purpose.

His perfectly tailored suit was the masculine version of my gown. Black jacket, black and gold waistcoat with that same floral and snake design, black shirt, and matching trousers. Gold rings glinted from his knuckles, looking more weaponlike than mere ornamentation. His crown was made of gold laurel leaf intertwined with glittering ebony serpents.

I wore no diadem or tiara, but Wrath had dressed me in his signature black and gold. It was his way of showing this court where I truly belonged. At his side.

Judging from the whispers and curious glances that kept sliding our way after the herald rushed in to prepare for our announcement, Wrath’s plan had worked.

Truthfully, I’d been onto his scheme the moment I took the gown out of its dark tissue wrapping. My prince was not as subtle as he imagined. Or maybe he hadn’t been aiming for subtlety at all. The last time he’d seen Envy, his brother had disemboweled him. Maybe this act of possession had more to do with whatever private feud was happening between them.

Though it was possible it was also Wrath’s way of ensuring anyone of this court would think twice before striking me. He was protecting his potential power enhancement and irking his brother. I was certain there was also some deep sense of chivalry at play, too.

Wrath did not want harm to befall me. I knew that, more than anything else, was the real driving force behind his actions. That was why I’d stepped into the gown that claimed me as part of his royal House as much as our magical tattoos and his royal Mark did.

He was extending his protection, and only a fool would turn that away. I may have been foolish before, but, thank the goddess, I was learning quickly.

The herald nodded at two guards stationed at the double doors, then stomped an emerald-tipped staff on the ground. The doors swung open, revealing my first glimpse inside Envy’s royal court. Hunter green marble floors spanned the cathedral-like room with rows of matching columns on either side of a long aisle. Groups of finely dressed royals stood in small circles throughout the space, their attention riveted on the herald.