Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (58)

I lifted my hand, as if brushing away a strand of hair, and subtly ran my fingers over Wrath’s Mark. It broke this prince’s influence before it took hold, just as I’d hoped it would.

Envy jerked back, his attention snapping to mine. A slow smile spread across his face, dousing the flicker of rage. “Aren’t you full of intrigue tonight. And here I worried dinner would be boring.”

I kept my expression bland, but my heart raced. If he tried to use his power again, I wasn’t sure my little trick would work a second time. He seemed to sense that and was contemplating his next move. His lazy assessment reminded me of a cat that was deciding whether the bird fluttering close by was worth the effort of leaving his sunshine patch for.

Envy’s gaze flicked to his House dagger.

He removed it from its sheath and ran a finger along the blade. There was little doubt in my mind he was dreaming of creative ways to use it on me. My hand inched toward my own weapon, but I did not lift my skirts to reveal it. Whatever happened next, I’d be ready.

We sat there for an uncomfortably long beat, the only sound the ticking of a clock somewhere in the room. Envy stroked the metal, and I swore the blade almost purred. Just when I was certain he was about to pounce, a knock sounded at the door, breaking the murderous tension between us. Envy replaced his dagger. At his command, servants filed in carrying emerald trays and platters of food to the circular table near the far end of the room.

The prince stood in one graceful movement and offered his arm. “Let us break bread tonight, not bones, Shadow Witch.”

I pushed myself to my feet, ignoring his outstretched arm. We were not friends and I did not think he’d like for me to pretend in this instance. Everything about this evening felt like a test. Which suited me fine. I had a test of my own.

I made my way to the table and sat as a chair was pulled out for me. Envy did not appear insulted, only more amused as he took the seat across from me. I doubted many of his subjects ever attempted to irk him. Like Wrath, my refusal to simper before his almighty power might intrigue him enough to entertain me. And my questions. Until he tired of them. I must tread carefully along the line of challenging him without going too far over it.

“In vino veritas.” He waved the servants away and filled our goblets on his own. “In wine there’s truth. Mortals occasionally impress. Though I suppose they’re especially susceptible when it comes to their vices. Give man wine and he’ll wax poetic of its flavors. He’ll probably even liken it to a woman he bedded.” His gaze slid to mine. “Or wishes to.”

I held my tongue. I did not believe he wanted to bed me. And if he did, it wouldn’t be for any other reason than to use it against his brother. “Why do you hate mortals?”

“Assumptions are the death of truth.” He took another sip of his wine. “I do not suggest wandering down this current path.” He motioned to my goblet. “Have you ever tried using your magic on food or drink?”

“No. Why in the seven hells would I do such a thing?”

“Eight. And I ask because you can spell the wine to give you truth. Just as you would with a truth spell. Whoever drinks it will be under its thrall.”

“I’m supposed to believe you’re telling me this out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Don’t be daft. I can assure you, the closest I get to moral fiber is from ingesting whatever fiber is found in demonberry wine. You want truth and so do I. Why not ensure we both get what we desire? No games.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You must want something terribly bad if you’re willing to sacrifice that information to your enemy.”

“We can be friends tonight.” He grimaced at the word friend as if pained by the idea. I arched a brow and he feigned ignorance. “Or lovers.”

I waited to sense it, the magic of this world seducing me with thoughts of beds and bodies and passion. Just as it had done nearly every time the idea of spending the night with Wrath entered my mind. Envy was handsome, his body lithe but hard with muscle. I imagined he’d be attentive to any lover, even one he didn’t particularly find interest in. If only to drive them wild with envy when he moved on to other partners.

There were no romantic feelings aside from the overwhelming desire I felt to kick him.

“If I said yes, you would truly take me to bed.”

“There are always sacrifices in war, love. I would do whatever I must. Though it would hardly be a sacrifice. Pillow talk is quite enjoyable. There are many secrets one reveals after such intimate affairs.” Envy gazed at his wine, his expression far away. “Now be a dear and spell our wine.”

I hesitated. I wanted honest answers to my questions, but I was not sure I was ready to give him the same in return. He could ask anything and I’d be forced to lose my mask.

Some risks were worth taking. And others were simply foolish.

Envy’s head tipped to the side as he looked at me. “Is holding on to your truth worth more than learning mine? Perhaps it’s fear that’s holding you back. Maybe I ought to seduce you instead.”

“You can’t goad me into doing your bidding, your highness. It’s prudent to consider all angles before subjecting myself to your interrogation.”

“I could force you to tell me what I want, you know.” His voice was light, casual. Threats rolled off his tongue with the same ease one remarked on the weather. I ran my fingers across the Mark again, drawing his attention to my neck. “Through violence, my lady. Alexei isn’t the only fanged member of my house. Lose enough blood and I find that the effects are rather similar to truth wine. With less detriment to me, naturally.”