Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (62)

I pulled my attention away from the book of spells. “Why are you telling me about it?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

If we were being friendly, I might as well push that to my advantage. “You mentioned something called the Temptation Key earlier. Is it part of your collection?”

“I’m afraid not. Though not from a lack of trying to acquire it on my part.” He started walking away but called over his shoulder, “Before you retire for the evening, you may want to read the plaque of this painting. I find it to be quite informative.”

“Where are you going?”

Envy did not answer.

Apparently our time together was over for tonight. I stared in the direction of the demon prince long after he’d left the room, mulling over all I’d learned. Envy was after the Triple Moon Mirror and the Temptation Key. Two objects I was now very interested in obtaining myself.

When I was sure he wasn’t returning, I strode over to the painting he’d pointed out. It was an unusual tree. Large with gnarled wood and ebony-and-silver-veined leaves. There was something about the painting that reminded me of the artist who’d captured the seasonal garden in my bedroom suite in House Wrath.

The shadows and care with which the artist had shown each piece of bark or falling leaf was remarkable; it looked as if I could reach into the painting and pull a leaf from the tree.

I ran my fingers over the silver plaque and read the inscription.


CURSE TREE FABLE

Deep in the heart of the Bloodwood Forest lies a tree planted by the Crone herself. It is said, among other favors, the tree will consider hexing a sworn enemy if the desire to curse them is true. To request the Crone’s Curse: Carve their true name in the tree, write your wish on a leaf plucked from its branches, then offer the tree a drop of blood. Take the leaf home and place it beneath your pillow. If it is gone when you arise, the Crone accepted your offer and has granted your wish. She is the mother of the underworld—beware of her blessing.



I reread the fable, unsure why Envy had pointed it out among the fifty or so other paintings lining the walls in this room. Nothing a prince of Hell did was by accident. I had a feeling I’d been unwittingly brought into one of his schemes, but I’d twist his deceit to my favor.

I tucked the knowledge away and slowly made my way through the rest of the gallery, pausing at a map of the Seven Circles. Each demon House sat upon a mountain peak, towering above their territory. I spied the gates of Hell, the Sin Corridor.

A place between House Lust and House Gluttony was marked VIOLENT WINDS. I wondered if that was the howling sound we’d heard in the Sin Corridor.

I continued to study the sketch, committing as much of it as I could to memory. To the southeast, Bloodwood Forest sat between House Greed and House Envy. The Black River carved through the western Houses of Sin, dividing Wrath’s castle from both Greed and Pride’s territories. It forked off into a smaller tributary that ran behind Greed’s castle, winded through the lower portion of House Pride, and up along Envy’s northern border. I followed the main portion of the river until it ended in the Lake of Fire. Across from the largest section of the lake was the devil’s castle; House Pride sat slightly northwest of House Envy.

Once I felt confident in my ability to recall most landmarks and the general lay of this realm, I left the map and wandered back through the gallery. A liveried member of Envy’s staff was waiting for me in the room with the sculptures.

“His highness sends his apologies, but he’s left the premises. He said you are welcome to stay as long as you desire, but he will be gone for quite some time.” The servant hesitated, cleared his throat, as if uncomfortable with delivering the rest of the message.

“Was there more?”

“His highness also said if you wish to make Prince Wrath jealous, you may sleep in his highness’s bed tonight. He suggests doing so in the nude. And… I quote, ‘think filthy thoughts regarding the most well-endowed prince in this realm,’ while tending to yourself. There is a life-sized painting of Prince Envy on the ceiling, should you require a stimulating visual.”

I mentally counted until the urge to hunt Envy passed. “I’d like to send word to House Wrath. Tell them I’ll be home tomorrow at first light.”

“Straight away, my lady.” He bowed. “Would you like an escort back to your chambers?”

“I believe I can find my way. I’d like to admire the statues once more.”

“Very well. I’ll send the missive to House Wrath now.”

I waited until he left before turning back to the gallery room. Annoyance at Envy quickly gave way to elation. I knew I’d have use of the mending kit.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with sewing tears in pretty dresses.





My heart thudded in time with the horses’ hoofs as the carriage rolled away from House Envy. Wrath didn’t show up to escort me home himself after all; he sent an emissary and a royal carriage. The emissary was only too pleased to point out it wasn’t the prince’s personal carriage or steeds. Just whatever he’d had in the stables.

As if that information was of great importance. I wasn’t sure how I felt about her sneer or the fact that the prince sent someone in his stead. The emissary sat primly on her side of the coach, pointedly avoiding eye contact and therefore any conversation with me.