Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (79)

“You are a heathen. I just tried to murder a man.”

“Precisely.” He pressed his lips to my cheek. “Are you ready to try again?”

“To murder him?”

“I suggest talking, but you are free, as always, to choose your path.”

“Murder, or at least a good thrashing, then.”

“Try.” Challenge rang in the single word. “We’ll just end up out here again.”

As if that was a deterrent. “You trust me?”

“It’s more important for you to trust yourself.” He pushed back from the wall. “Only you can decide how to move forward. What would you like to do?”

Dangerous question. I would like to open the murderer from gut to gullet and watch his stinking, steaming entrails spill across the floor. That answer wouldn’t get me back inside. And, no matter how I’d felt moments before, I did not want to become someone I could no longer respect. Murdering a man, even one who’d violently killed my twin, would only put me on his level. Which was why Wrath had made me take the dagger to him the other night.

I knew how it felt, hurting someone. Blood would not stain my hands. Today.

Wrath waited silently, giving me time and space to decide my next move. His expression was perfectly bland, offering no judgment. No hint to his inner thoughts.

I rolled my shoulders, releasing the tension. “I’m ready to ask him about my sister.”





“Emilia.” Antonio jumped to his feet. “It’s good to see you.”

His tone indicated what he actually meant was “It’s good to see you no longer snarling and kicking like a rabid beast trying to rip out my throat.”

This meeting was young, though. There was still time for snarling and snapping. The leash I’d put on myself was already slipping. I did not return his tentative smile. Just because I’d decided against gutting him did not mean we would ever be friends again.

I moved carefully into the small tower chamber, feeling Wrath close behind. His trust only went so far, apparently. Smart demon.

“Is it? I would imagine initially it was like staring into the face of one of your victims. Only to discover they weren’t dead after all.”

There was a beat of silence that fell awkwardly between us.

“I cannot… words and apologies will never be enough to make up for what I did to you.”

“What you did to Vittoria.”

“O-of course.” His throat bobbed. I almost believed the emotion was real. “I’ve been taking a tonic.” He indicated the steaming mug on the small table. “The matron is talented with breaking enchantments.”

I paused in the center of the room. Wrath was a shadow looming in my periphery. “Is that what you’re claiming now? Magic was the true villain, not your hatred?”

Antonio watched me closely as he settled back onto his chair, his gaze never once straying to the demon prince behind me. He did not know I was unable to use magic, that my threats were all bark and no bite. His fear did something to me. Made me want to strike harder.

“Do you recall my trip to the village? Where they claimed a goddess was feasting with wolves in the spirit realm, and teaching them ways to protect themselves from evil?”

“Let me guess.” My tone turned frosty. “You’re claiming a goddess actually descended upon that village and was the one who cursed you?”

“Emilia, my god.” He looked affronted. “I didn’t…”

“You expected forgiveness? Unearned mercy? You murdered my twin. You killed other innocent women. Instead of taking responsibility for your actions, you’re telling me superstitious stories. Ones you were only too happy to claim as silly and unfounded, if I recall. Own your truth, admit your wrongs, and do not waste my time with old folktales or lies.”

I spun on my heel and headed back to the door. I didn’t trust the growing darkness of my temper. Wrath moved aside and let me pass, his expression still unreadable.

I turned at the threshold and looked at the man I’d once believed I’d loved. How young and foolish I’d been then. Antonio had devoted his life to the holy order and would never be half as honorable as the prince of Hell standing beside him.

“When you regain all of your memories, or whatever it is you’re claiming the matron is helping you with, send for me then. But if you lie to me again, I will come for you. I will rip out your heart and feed it to the hellhounds. Wrath cannot stand guard and protect you forever.”

Antonio pressed his lips together. “I know I must earn your forgiveness. Please, Emilia. Please visit me again soon. Let me prove I am trustworthy.”

Hell was already frozen over, so I didn’t point out it would take it thawing into the Garden of Eden for me to willingly seek out his friendship again.





I left Wrath in the tower and rushed back to my chambers, heading straight into the bathing room. I needed to soak away the experience of being in Antonio’s filthy presence. I’d made it to the glass stool near my vanity when I heard the faint knock. “Come in.”

“My lady, I’m Harlow. I’m to tend to you when you need assistance.”

I glanced up from where I sat, pinning up my long hair. A young demon maid—with lavender skin and snow-colored hair—nervously stood in the doorway. I took a deep breath and released it. I refused to let my bad mood taint the rest of my evening.