Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (91)

After a while, details started to blur, confusing me more. I couldn’t recall if I’d seen Wrath’s face, or if it was just an impression I’d had of him.

I remembered the room being dark in the vision, the sounds of a distant party, but couldn’t remember the sound of my lover’s voice. If he’d sworn loudly when he found his release, or if it had been a murmur. And if it wasn’t Wrath with me in the vision…

I exhaled, my breath creating clouds on the windowpane. That complicated matters even more. When I arrived at the feast tonight, I might recognize the lover from that memory. If we danced together, would that unlock other memories that had been secreted away?

I slipped from the window’s edge and leafed through the notes I’d made from the enchanted skulls. Past, present, future, find. I’d thought it was referencing the Triple Moon Mirror Envy was after. Now I wondered if it encompassed more than that.

Were those visions part of my past, or my future? If they were images of the future, perhaps it related to the prophecy. The part where I could set right a terrible wrong.

When I’d been under Lust’s influence, I’d had that impression of choice, balance. That I could damn everyone, or make something right. But what?

I kept circling back to the devil’s slain bride. Could falling in love be the key to breaking the curse? On the surface it seemed simple. But it wasn’t. I’d need to fall madly in love with Pride. And to accomplish that, I’d have to end my betrothal to Wrath for good.

“Goddess help me, this is a disaster.”

Pride would be at the feast. If he’d been the mysterious lover in my vision, and if it was part of the past and not the future, it was entirely possible neither one of us would be able to deny the sizzling connection in person. Which frightened me.

If it was the past I saw… then that would mean I was already Pride’s wife. Maybe to break the curse I had to fall in love with him all over again, without any memories of us.

A theory so outlandish, it just might be true. Which could be the real reason Pride hadn’t invited me to his circle. Maybe it went deeper than my accidental betrothal to Wrath.

Without knowing what I’d done, maybe I’d broken Pride’s heart and damned them all by choosing the wrong brother. It would also explain Wrath’s hatred when I first summoned him and he demanded I reverse the spell before it was too late.

A knock on my outer door drew me from my reverie. “Come in.”

Harlow bobbed a quick curtsy, then held a dress bag aloft. “The cobbler will have your shoes ready shortly. Did you want me to lay out the gown for you?”

“Please.”

Through all of my worries, I’d completely lost track of time. We’d be traveling to House Gluttony within the hour. This evening marked the first of three nights dedicated to the Feast of the Wolf, an event I’d rather avoid if not for the potential information I could gather. Thinking about having my greatest fear ripped from me caused my heart rate to triple, though.

At first I’d been worried my greatest fear was my secret mission of vengeance being revealed. Now it could be my fear about the creature wailing below the statue, my family dying at the hands of our enemies, my magic never returning, or the possibility that my memories had been stolen and the life I’d been living was all a lie.

The biggest fear of all kept circling like a portent of death and doom.

I couldn’t stop thinking that I was the devil’s bride and I hadn’t been murdered—I’d been cursed to forget. My palms dampened. There was no possible way that was true.

Still, the thought haunted me the entire time I prepared for tonight’s opening event. True or not, if I couldn’t shove the fear aside; it would be revealed to each of my enemies and their subjects. Not only would it be humiliating, it would indicate I had not left the past behind when I’d sold my soul and was actively working to destroy one of them.

If the demon princes were suspicious of my motivations for coming here before, they’d have those thoughts confirmed. And I didn’t want to know what they’d do for retribution.





I descended the stairs, shoulders back, head held high. I’d been expecting to see Fauna and Anir. Instead the Prince of Wrath waited, dressed to devastate, his attention riveted to mine. I hadn’t chosen to wear one of his signature House colors. Not that he seemed put off by the crushed red velvet gown, or the way it clung to my curves before pooling around my feet.

In fact, I almost missed a step when I noticed the color of his shirt. A deep, enticing cranberry peeked out from the layers of black waistcoat and swallowtail suit jacket. Either Harlow or the seamstress must have given him information on my attire.

I reached the bottom step and slowly pivoted in place. My shoes were the same snake design from a few nights before, but these were deep gold instead of black. It was the one tribute I made to my current House of Sin. Regardless of if any of my theories were correct, in this reality, in this version of myself, this was where I felt comfortable. There was no use denying that I aligned with the sin of wrath more than any other.

“Well?” I prompted. “How do I look?”

Wrath’s gaze darkened into a shadow of sinful promise. “I suspect you know.”

“Indulge me, then.”

“Trouble incarnate.”

“Mighty praise coming from one of the Wicked.” I glanced around the empty foyer. Silence stretched between us, which didn’t help to soothe my growing nerves. The more I tried not to focus on my theories, the more they haunted me. “Where are Fauna and Anir?”