Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (70)

I imagined this training was as much for his benefit as it was for mine. If anyone succeeded in having me half-naked and writhing during the feast—or worse—the general of war might remind his family how he’d come by that military honor. And I didn’t think the path to that particular title had been cleared without a good deal of bloodshed on Wrath’s part.

I glanced at the dagger I’d used to stab him, the blade coated in his drying blood. I couldn’t quite identify the exact emotion raging through me in place of the fear, but I no longer felt nauseated. I felt like I could breathe fire. And with my ability to summon it, I might be able to do just that with a bit of practice. Goddess help the demon princes now.





I stormed into my bedroom suite and slammed the door with enough force to shake the large painting hanging near the bathing chamber. Of all the arrogant, spiteful, nasty tricks to pull. Yes, I’d agreed to the cursed bargain, but I hadn’t known it was a binding contract.

My cheeks flared with fury. Losing my sense of control rattled me more than any of his demonic tricks. When he walked into that training room, he had a plan and executed it flawlessly. And I’d been at his mercy. That. That was the core of my anger.

“‘You will address me as master from now on.’” I mocked, using my best impression of his voice. “Hateful monster.”

I charged into my bathing chamber and began scrubbing the blood from my hands, all the while seething at Wrath. Even though he didn’t appear particularly pleased or smug by his efforts, it did not change the fact he’d unleashed himself on me.

I dried myself off and marched in an angry circle around my room. I was mad with him for proving his point, but even more upset that I’d been rendered nearly helpless.

Taking all that aside, I had to admit it was far better to be subjected to Wrath’s influence, wretched though it may be, because at least I knew he wouldn’t carry things too far. He might make me strip and beg, or take a blade to his heart, but he’d never take true advantage or cause me to hurt anyone else.

I stared down at my now-clean hands. A troubling thought entered my mind. If a demon prince willed it, I would murder someone at their command. Wrath proved that tonight. Part of me wanted to stab him, but I never would’ve crossed that line on my own.

I thought of Antonio, how he’d been clearly under some influence. If Wrath could wield other sins with ease and strength, it stood to reason that his brothers also possessed the talent.

Which meant any one of them could have been manipulating Antonio into killing the witches. His hatred was already there because of how his beloved mother died. It would not have taken much for that emotion to be drawn out, used against him.

Shoving thoughts and worries from my mind about my sister’s murderer and the Feast of the Wolf vote, I went to my wardrobe and donned a simple black dress.

I glanced down as a flash of off-white peeked out from the darkness. One of the enchanted skulls had slipped from its covering when I’d removed my dress.

I expelled a breath. I still needed to sort through the skull puzzle and figure out if Envy had been the one who’d sent them. Doubt crept in regarding his involvement. It made little sense for him to secretly send the skulls only to openly share information with me.

I bent to replace the scarf when the outer door creaked open.

“Emilia, I wanted to—” Wrath’s attention fell on the enchanted skull. Whatever he’d been about to say was immediately forgotten as he crossed the room in a whirl of black, gold, and fury. He wrenched the skull from my wardrobe and spun around, staring as if he hardly knew me. “What the—”

“Unless you wish to be slapped with an unpleasant spell, I suggest you rethink your tone. We are no longer in your training ring. I won’t tolerate rudeness outside of our lessons.”

He inhaled deeply. Then exhaled. He repeated both actions. Twice. With each inhalation and exhalation, I swore the atmosphere grew charged. Storm clouds were gathering.

“If you would be so kind, my lady, to please explain how this came to be in your possession, I’d very much like to know.”

I noticed a vein in his throat throbbing. After what he made me do to him, it gave me a perverse sense of glee to see him so mad. “Why are you here?”

“To apologize. Answer me. Please.”

“Someone left it. Along with a second skull.”

“Second skull?” He spoke through his teeth, as if forcing polite manners against the incredulity playing out across his features. “Where, pray tell, is it now?”

“My wardrobe. Behind that ridiculous gown with the big skirts.”

Without uttering another word, Wrath calmly ducked inside my wardrobe and retrieved the object in question. It appeared to take Herculean effort on his part to remain calm. “Might I ask when the first skull arrived?”

“The night Anir brought food and wine.”

“The first night you were here?” His volume went up a notch. I nodded, which seemed to set his teeth on edge. “You didn’t think this information was worth sharing because…”

My smile was anything but sweet. “I was unaware that I needed to report to you, master. Would you have answered any of my questions?”

“Emilia—”

“Which brother possesses this sort of magic? Who would want to taunt me? Someone must hate me an awful lot. They enchanted the skulls with my sister’s voice. Another lovely dagger to my heart. Do you have any ideas to offer?”