Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (64)

I turned back to the here and now, flipping through the next few pages. I refocused on Pride’s House journal, the squiggly lines blurring together.

I woke up several hours later, my face pressed against the open journal.

It was not my kind of book, obviously. A romance novel would have kept me up into the wee hours of the morning, never quite turning the pages fast enough while also trying desperately to savor each tension-filled interaction between the hero and heroine.

I adored how they more often than not despised each other, and how that spark of disdain flamed into something else entirely.

Real life certainly wasn’t anything close to a romance novel, but there was still a small part of the old me left that hoped for a happy ending. There was no denying a spark existed between me and Wrath—along with plenty of disdain—but the likelihood of it turning into love was the true fantasy.

I combed my hair and went to check Wrath’s rooms again. The demon was still out. Or he wasn’t bothering to answer his door. I stood there, hand falling to my side. It was possible he was upset by my dismissal of him at Envy’s. But something about that didn’t feel right.

He’d been by my side for months in the human world, and then for nearly two weeks here. If he did have a lover, he might have stolen away to visit her. I doubted he would have expected me to return so quickly. I ought to rejoice in the solitude. I had no one looking over my shoulder, no lust-fueled urges toward completing a marriage bond. No distractions. And yet… and yet I didn’t want to think about why I was gripped with unease.

I called for dinner and ate in my rooms, thinking about Envy’s conversation and all I’d learned. Specifically, the truth spell used on wine and what it might mean for the rest of my mission. The magic worked on a prince of Hell. And while I hadn’t noticed anything different about our beverage, it didn’t mean a prince wouldn’t sense the otherness. Envy had known what was coming, so I couldn’t use him as any means of judging.

What I wanted was to test a theory. And I needed Wrath. If I could spell his wine without him knowing, I might find it to be a useful skill to employ at the Feast of the Wolf. All of the princes would be in attendance. I could whisper the spell over our toast and find out who was responsible for Vittoria’s death without anyone being the wiser.

If Wrath couldn’t sense the spell. That plan only worked if the test was successful.

I told myself that was the main reason I’d been pacing the corridor outside his rooms the next morning. Listening for any sign of his return. Surely it had nothing to do with missing him. Or growing suspicions of where he’d gone, and who he might be with. Which was nonsense that belonged to House Envy. Maybe those were simply residual jealous emotions left over from my visit to that House of Sin. If such things even occurred.

Two more days passed and still no word from the prince of the House. I had tried a few more times to summon the source of my magic but was met with that same resistance. There was no information on it in the grimoire, so I had to wait it out. Eventually I’d master dipping into that well. I spent my time in the library, searching for new fables. I was interested in learning more about the Curse Tree, especially the line that claimed it granted more than wishes.

I also searched for any books on the Temptation Key or the Triple Moon Mirror. Thus far my efforts were all in vain. Finally, when I thought I’d go mad, a knock sounded at my door.

“Hello, Lady Em.” Anir grinned. “I’m here to bring you on an adventure.”

“Lady Em?” I crinkled my nose. “No one has ever called me Em. I’m not sure I like it.”

“That’s because you never had a clandestine meeting. Come on. Put on a tunic and trousers, then meet me out here. We’re late.”

“Where are we going?”

He flashed another smile. This one made my stomach twist up with nerves. “You’ll see.”

Deciding whatever he’d planned had to be better than sitting alone in my room, or roaming the library and not finding anything useful, I quickly rushed into my bedchamber and changed into the clothes he’d suggested.

Once I tugged on some flat shoes, I followed him into the corridor. We went up one flight of stairs and stopped near the end of a long hallway.

“May I present…” Anir shoved the door open. “The weapons room.”

“Goddesses above.” I sucked in a sharp breath, though I shouldn’t have been surprised at the grandeur, given Wrath’s role as general of war. Here was the pearl of House Wrath. “It’s impressive.”

“I hear that a lot,” Anir teased. “Go in.”

I stepped over the threshold. My focus darted around the cavernous room that seemed to go on and on. Columns broke the space into smaller, interconnected chambers. If Envy’s gallery was the most telling part of his personality, here was Wrath’s soul laid bare.

Beautiful. Elegant. Deadly. Honed to brutal perfection and unapologetic about glorying in violence. I stood there, cataloging everything.

The glass ceiling allowed light to filter in and illuminate what would otherwise be a darkened space. The walls and floor were black marble with gold veining. In the main room we’d entered, there was an occult design—featuring the phases of the moon on one side, a smattering of stars on the other, and a serpent swallowing its tail in a circular shape—inlaid in gold on the floor. From what I could see, each corner of that section of the floor featured one of the four elements. Part of the design was covered by a large mat placed directly in the center.