Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (71)

I raised my brows, knowing he wouldn’t say a word. His lips pressed into a firm line and I couldn’t help the dark laughter that bubbled up from deep within.

“I suspected as much. Though I can promise you this, it will not be the last time I decide to keep my own counsel until I’ve thoroughly investigated on my own.” I pointed to the door. “Please leave. I’ve had quite enough of you tonight.”

His eyes narrowed at the dismissal. I doubted anyone ever spoke to him in such a way. It was high time he got used to it. “Regarding the training earlier—”

“I am fully capable of understanding the value in the lesson, no matter how appalling your methods. Regardless of our bargain, in the future, you will ask if I want to train.” I schooled my face into indifference. “If you’re not planning on sharing information with me, this interrogation ends now. Put the skulls back and get out.”

“The skulls will be locked somewhere safe.”

“Vagueness will not work for me. Be specific. If I permit you to take the skulls, where will they be?”

“My private suite.”

“I will see them when I wish. And you will share any information you learn.”

He glowered at me. “If we’re making demands, then, so long as you agree to dine with me tomorrow, I will grant your request.”

“I cannot give you an answer tonight.”

“And if I insist?”

“Then my answer is no, your highness.”

“You may beg off conversation tonight. Refuse to dine with me. But we will speak about everything. Soon.”

“No, Wrath. We will speak about this when we’re both ready to.” I watched him absorb the statement. “I will consent to the training, and your influence, only in that room. Everywhere else, you will respect my wishes.”

“Or else?”

I shook my head sadly. “I understand your realm is different, and your brothers are diabolical and conniving, but not every statement is a threat. At least not between us. Know this: from here on out, if you do not respect my wishes, I will not stay here. It’s not to punish you, but to protect myself. I will forgive your lapse in decorum, judgment, and basic decency if you vow to learn from this mistake. You will, however, share all information you glean about the skulls, whether or not I decide to dine with you. Do we have a bargain?”

He looked me over, really looked, and finally nodded. “I accept your terms.”

Wrath collected both skulls and paused, his attention landing on my nightstand. And the journal on House Pride. “How were you planning on reading it? Let me guess.” His voice turned suspiciously low. “You were going to strike a bargain with a demon? Offer a piece of your soul.”

“I considered it.”

“Allow me to save you the trouble. It’s not written in a demonic language. And no bargain you strike with anyone—save me—will give you the answers you seek with any of those journals. All you had to do was ask and I would have given it to you.”

“Perhaps. But would you have given me a way to read it?”

“I don’t know.”

He strode from the room, and I didn’t move until I heard the click of the outer door closing. Then I slumped against the wall.

I counted off my breaths, waiting until I was sure he would not return, and then I allowed the tears to come hard and fast. I doubled over, sobs wracking my body, consuming me. In the matter of an hour I’d been subjected to multiple sins and had stabbed my potential future husband. Tonight could certainly be classified as an evening from Hell.

I abruptly stood, chest heaving with the effort to rein in my emotions.

I brushed the wetness from my cheeks and vowed once again to best my enemies. Even the ones who no longer felt like adversaries.





NINETEEN


Ice-coated flowers sparkled like crystal and branches tinkled like winter chimes above my head as I strolled through the garden.

It was cold enough that I needed fur-lined gloves and a heavy velvet cloak, but the morning itself was lovely. Peaceful. I hadn’t had many of those days over the last few months, and this felt decadent. I squinted up through the latticework of boughs. On a good number of trees leaves stubbornly clung to life, frozen until either warmth or sunshine set them free.

I still hadn’t seen the sun through all the snow and overcast skies, so it would probably be a good long while before a thaw happened. If ever. I recalled the way Wrath had soaked up the sun one lazy afternoon on the roof of his commandeered castle in my city. Back then I’d assumed he’d missed the fiery pits of his hellish home. Now I knew better.

Clusters of flowers—pinkish purple roses and peonies and something with petals that looked like tiny silver crescent moons—sprung up in wider sections of the maze. I slowly walked along the inner pathway, the hedges towering on either side, beautiful living walls dusted with snow. The gardens of House Wrath were another stunning example of his refined tastes.

I followed the meandering trail until I came upon a reflecting pool near the center.

A marble statue of a naked woman stood in the water, a crown of stars on her head, two curved daggers in hand, her expression one of icy fury. She looked as if she’d tear through the fabric of the universe with those nasty blades, and regret nothing of her actions.

An oversized serpent—twice the circumference of my upper arms—wound up her left ankle, slithered between her legs as it clung to the left calf and thigh, then coiled around her hips and rib cage. Its large head covered one breast while its tongue flicked out toward the other, not as if it were about to lick, but as if it were blocking it from the view of curious passersby.