Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (95)

Going to my bedchamber was the best decision, yet I found myself saying, “Let’s take a quick stroll through the garden.”





Unsurprisingly, Gluttony’s idea of a pleasure garden was quite literal. We walked past lovers barely hidden in the shadows, the sounds of their bare skin slapping against each other and breathy moans created a strangely haunting symphony. I did my best to keep my attention fixed on the torchlit path in front of us, not daring to seek out writhing shadows near the hedges.

Wrath, as always, seemed unaffected.

“Have you toured the gardens before?” I immediately wished I hadn’t asked.

“Yes.” He gave me a sidelong glance. “I always survey the grounds to ensure there’s no hidden threat.”

Almost on command, a woman screamed her lover’s name.

“Of course.” I rolled my eyes. “It certainly sounds as if there’s danger here.”

“Hidden armies, unwelcome guests, clandestine meetings between scheming Houses.” Wrath leaned close and dropped his voice. “A lot can happen in the dark, my lady.”

“He’s not wrong.” The Prince of Lust’s grin bordered on feline as he stepped into our path and stretched his arms above his head, exposing a sliver of golden skin above his trousers. His charcoal eyes drank me in, then spit me out with disinterest. “Hello again, little darling.”

“Lust.” Despite the inner voice urging me to run, I held my ground. All of my senses heightened as I waited for that first lick of his soul-crushing influence. “I would say it’s nice to see you again, but…”

I lifted a shoulder, letting the rest go unsaid.

“I will have to remedy that. Later.” He turned to his brother. There was no anger or glint of retribution in his expression. As far as I was aware, the last time they saw each other, Wrath had stuck a dagger in his chest. “I need a word. Privately.”

Wrath hesitated before nodding once. He turned to me. “I’ll stop by your chamber later. Unless you’d like me to escort you there now.”

“No.” I shook my head, grateful for the excuse to leave Lust and his troublesome influence. “I’m sure I’ll find my own way back.”

Wrath nodded, but didn’t move to follow his brother. I felt his gaze on me until I turned the corner. Halfway down the next path, a servant appeared. Wrath, no doubt, had managed to arrange our meeting. “Lady Emilia, if you’ll follow me. I can show you to your chambers.”

After settling into my well-appointed room—all cobalt blue, silver, and dripping in an overabundance of luxury—I waited, perched on the edge of my bed, for what felt like hours. Straining to hear Wrath’s light knock at my door.

It never came.

At first I worried Lust had struck him, vengeance for what had occurred between them in Palermo. Then a new worry slipped in. We were staying in a House filled with debauchery. If Wrath hadn’t made it to his bed, I wondered if that meant he’d tumbled into someone else’s.





SilverFrost Garden,

southeast tower, dawn.

Wear something to die for.

And come masked.





I stared down at the note that arrived well past midnight. Cobalt blue paper inked with platinum—the parchment thick and luxurious.

There was no indication who the sender was, what I’d find if I accepted the invitation, or what manner of mischief I might be inviting into my already complicated world. The handwriting didn’t belong to Wrath, who still hadn’t shown up.

Given the rich indulgence of the paper and ink, I imagined it was penned by Gluttony, but there was always a chance one of the other princes in attendance had sent it along.

Wearing something “to die for” might not be a demonic euphemism.

I carefully considered my options. I could ignore it. That was certainly the safest route. After the assassination attempt at House Wrath, it wasn’t a stretch to believe it was a trap.

With everyone meeting at dawn to start the hunt, I’d be alone and vulnerable. Whoever sent it must know I’d chosen not to ride out with the group.

And the only person who knew that—aside from Wrath—was Gluttony.

If my attire mattered, it might indicate a clandestine party. One where masks were required to keep anonymity of the attendees. A mysterious event hosted in the underworld, by an unknown source, was not the typical gathering I’d ever considered.

But now… I exhaled. Now I couldn’t decline something that might present an opportunity for me to interrogate a prince of Hell without Wrath chaperoning.

I flipped the card over, end by end, thinking. Just because I’d been asked to meet at the SilverFrost Garden did not mean that’s where I had to show up. At least not initially.

A plan slowly came together in my mind. There was an expansive veranda outside the southeast tower ballroom with a grand staircase that led to the gardens. I’d arrive early and wait in one of the darkened corners there. I swung myself out of bed and quickly dressed in a gown made of shadows.





Gluttony strolled onto the empty veranda, a knuckle’s worth of liquor poured into a crystal glass. A decanter was tucked beneath his other arm. I would claim it was too early to drink, but he didn’t appear to have made it to bed. There was a mussed quality to his hair, a slight wrinkle in his suit. As if his bedmate had kept him occupied all night and well into the morning. He played the role of a debauched rake to perfection.