Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2) (96)

He took a healthy swig from his glass. All princes seemed to enjoy their alcohol the same, though the quantities in which they indulged differed.

I pressed myself deeper into the shadows and watched his approach through lowered lashes, holding my breath to avoid detection. As if the slightest inhalation would give me away.

“I can’t decide if I’m amused or insulted.”

My entire body tensed at having been discovered so quickly. I reached for my dagger, relaxing once I felt its familiar weight in my grip. I stepped into the watery predawn light.

There was no use hiding now.

I waited in silence for him to continue. Clearly he desired this meeting alone. He might as well dazzle me with whatever speech he’d prepared.

He leaned over the stone railing, surveying the decadent garden below. Silver flowers coated in frost glistened like diamonds. “Perhaps your strategy will work famously.”

“What strategy?”

“Winning the hunt. In five minutes, the whole of the castle will come charging out of the stables.” He set his drink on the wide railing before him, then motioned to the dark roof in the distance. Snow-covered hills rolled into an evergreen forest. “People rarely notice what’s in front of them, especially when they expect to find something else.”

“I’m not sure I follow your meaning.”

He slowly twisted to look at me, his expression a study of false chagrin. “I may have left out a few important details in the note. Like the prize for winning the hunt.”

I kept the trepidation off my face. I didn’t think it was anything more than typical country sport. “I was unaware that there was a prize.”

“Prize. Prey. Some might argue they are one and the same.” His grin was carved of wicked intent. “The host chooses the prey each Blood Season. Participants only learn what they’re looking for in the stables, right before the hunt begins.”

My blood turned cold. “Wrath said there was no sacrifice involved during any portion of the three-day event.”

“I never said anything about a sacrifice. I just said someone or something will be hunted.” He studied me closer than I would have thought possible, considering how much he’d had to drink. “No one kills the chosen prey.” He winked. “We’re not total monsters.”

“Why did you want me masked?”

“To see if you’d indulge me.” He lifted a shoulder and dropped it. As if that were all the reason anyone needed. I was glad I’d decided against wearing a mask. “Has anyone told you why it’s called a Blood Season?”

“No, but I’m sure it will be a delightful story.”

“If a lesser demon or noble wins the hunt, they have the option to drink the elixir of life.”

“Blood.”

My stomach flipped as Gluttony nodded. Nonna used to tell us the Wicked drank blood. Now I knew where that rumor had come from. “What if a royal wins?”

“We have the option to claim our own prize, if at least four of us vote in favor of it. But drinking the elixir of life is not the only reason we call it a Blood Season. The winner of the hunt is decided by whoever draws first blood. Participants choose how much to spill, and how they spill it. Claws, blades, arrows, teeth.” His gaze turned back to the stables. A gunshot rent the air, startling me. “Ah, yes. They’ve found the ice rifles. If I were you, I’d consider joining the hunt now.”

“I told you, I don’t ride.”

“A shame. This year they’re hunting an ice dragon. Majestic, violent, creatures.” He tore his attention away from the building in the distance and looked at me again. “And as for riding, I’d reconsider. I’ve found that sometimes our bodies recall what our minds do not.”

Gluttony inclined his head, then strode back into his castle, leaving me to contemplate his parting words. A second shot cracked like thunder and the sound of a stampede followed, the ground rumbling beneath my feet. Something stirred in my blood.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I hiked up my skirts and raced toward the stables.





TWENTY-EIGHT


Outside the stables, a pale violet mare toed the snow with spiked metal hoofs before turning quicksilver eyes on me. Intelligence gleamed out from those liquid eyes as I slowly approached the massive hell horse. A silver crescent moon glimmered on its forehead and a handful of stars spread over its rear end like a constellation.

“Aren’t you divine, girl?” I stepped close. “I’m not sure what your name is, but I need to call you something. How about Tanzie? Short for Tanzanite.”

I smiled as the horse inclined her head in approval.

The moment of tranquility was short-lived. In the distance, shouts rang out, followed by an earthshaking roar. I imagined it belonged to the ice dragon Gluttony mentioned.

The hunt was clearly in full swing, but I was less concerned with it than I was with the growing need to ride as hard as I could over the frosted grounds.

My heart pounded like a war drum. Riding fast across this terrain would be dangerous, if it weren’t for the claw-tipped horseshoes. I petted Tanzie’s flank with confidence, somehow knowing she would tolerate nothing less from the person she allowed the honor of taking her saddle. And what a beautiful saddle it was—dark and oiled so it appeared like frozen ink.