Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (77)

“I thought I was to have some small say in where the feast was thrown.” I fiddled with the dagger. “I don’t—I’m not looking forward to it.”

“You’ll be able to sense any emotional manipulation by then. And you will be equipped to break free of their influence should they behave poorly.”

“It’s not that, either.”

He scanned my face. “It won’t be pleasant, but it won’t be the worst thing you’ll live through.”

“As always, you are exceptional with easing nerves. I…” I shook my head, then bent to replace my dagger in my thigh sheath. “It’s not just the fear being ripped from me.”

“My brothers will not hurt you.”

“I don’t know how to dance.”

His brows raised. “You won’t be forced to dance if you don’t want to.”

I didn’t meet his gaze. Dancing would allow me an opportunity to spend time with each of his brothers. I imagined there would be some talking involved, and I didn’t want my lack of refinement to impede my mission. Since I no longer could attempt to spell the wine, dancing and sipping a refreshment after would be perfect for conversation.

“You’re probably right.” I forced a smile. “It’s silly to worry about.”

Wrath didn’t respond right away. He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowed. “You danced at the bonfire the night you encountered Lust. You were magnificent then. I don’t see why you’ll have any trouble with a waltz.”

I lifted a shoulder and turned my attention back to the table near us. Several strange daggers had been neatly lined up. They were solid black with one long piece cut out in the center of the hilt and the blade.

“Eight-inch throwing knives.” Wrath moved to the table and plucked up a knife. “They are solid steel with a smooth handle as to not disturb your grip and are weighted in the front to make throwing more accurate. Would you like to practice?”

I ran a finger over the cool metal. “Yes.”

“Take it by the bottom. We’ll work on a spin technique.”

I held it by the handle and aimed for the wooden target Wrath indicated at the far end of this section of the weapons rooms. It flew through the air, landing left of center, and fell to the ground. The demon prince nodded and handed me another blade. “The knife didn’t stick because you’re standing too close.”

“How can you tell that?”

“When it spins, if the blade is angled down when it falls, it indicates you need to step back. Half of throwing knives and getting them to reach your target is all about where you’re standing.”

I shifted my stance, then repeated the steps. This time the hit came to the right of the red circle and stuck. A deep sense of elation went through me.

I held my hand out, waiting for the next blade, and was surprised to feel Wrath’s fingers wrapping around mine instead. I twisted, confused.

“What are—”

“We’re starting a new lesson.” He gently pulled me closer. “Place one hand on my shoulder. And hold lightly to this one. Good.” He angled our bodies, then straightened to his full height. “The movements are simple. We’ll be dancing in a box shape. Step back on the ball of your right foot, and follow with your left. Keep them a foot apart as we move.”

“We can’t dance here.”

“Of course we can.”

We struck an odd pair. Without his armor, Wrath’s chest was bare, his leather pants molded to his form, and I was dressed in crimson silk. He didn’t seem to mind. He acted as if he were in the finest evening attire, too.

The warrior prince guided us slowly through the steps, keeping us shoulder-width apart as we swept back, to the sides and forward in a loose interpretation of a box.

I watched our feet, worried I’d step on his or get tangled up in his legs.

“Tilt your chin up so you can gaze adoringly into my eyes.” He grinned down at my scowl. “I want you to focus on how handsome I am, how talented at dancing and killing, and forget everything else. Except for how much you want to kiss me.”

I couldn’t help myself; I laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Perhaps.” His voice turned low and seductive as his hand slid down to the small of my back, drawing me a little closer. “But you’re waltzing like a goddess now.”

The warmth of him, his praise, the hard muscle beneath my fingertips… all had me swaying nearer. Wrath placed his lips against my ear. “You’re—”

“Is this a godsdamn ballroom now?” Anir propped himself against the doorjamb, arms crossed. A lazy grin spread across his face as he batted his lashes. “Will you be teaching this new technique to all of the soldiers, your highness, or just us pretty ones?”

With what appeared to be immense effort, Wrath tore his gaze from me, but didn’t release us from our position. “A good fighter is skilled in weapons. A great fighter is skilled in dance. Perhaps I’ll appoint you as the new dance master.”

“While that sounds titillating, I do come with news from the dungeon.” Anir pushed himself up from the spot where he’d casually leaned, his expression serious. “It’s the mortal.”

Wrath tensed. “What happened?”