I’d briefly contemplated visiting the Matron of Curses and Poisons, but I’d still face the very real possibility of death if she didn’t locate the correct thread.
It was a gamble I was unwilling to try. At least not yet.
I wished Anir would show up and start our lesson early. The physical training would help burn off the excess nerves. And I desperately needed to rid myself of jitters.
Finally, late into the evening, a servant delivered the envelope I’d been dreading. There was no royal crest, no indication of what it contained, but I knew. My name and title were the only bit of writing on it. Indicating it was not just a note from the prince of this royal House.
I took the envelope from the servant with the same level of enthusiasm as if it were news of my execution. I used the slim dagger Wrath had gifted me and ran it along the upper edge, neatly cutting it open at the seam.
YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO
House Gluttony
FOR THIS BLOOD SEASON’S
Feast of the Wolf.
GUEST OF HONOR:
LADY EMILIA DI CARLO, CURRENTLY OF HOUSE WRATH
If my heart pounded any harder, it might crack a rib. I’d been told I’d have a choice, even if ultimately I’d be encouraged to choose the hosting House. I couldn’t help but fear other rules would be tossed aside at the last minute, too.
I stared at the invitation, its elegance a severe contrast to the panic it induced. My being chosen as the guest of honor wasn’t a surprise; Wrath had already made it clear I’d likely be the unlucky one, but seeing it in black and white made the whole thing terribly real.
Especially the part about my greatest fear or a secret of my heart being forcibly wrenched from me in front of the entire assembly. With Wrath’s “lessons” and the mortification and horror they brought fresh in my mind, I felt as if I was going to be sick.
“What is it?” Fauna set her book aside. “Has his highness sent for you?”
“No.” I blew out a breath. “It’s the invitation to the Feast of the Wolf.”
“So soon?” She shot up from the divan, thrusting her hand out with excitement she couldn’t contain. “Who’s hosting this season?” I gave her the card and her mouth formed a perfect O of surprise as she scanned it. “House Gluttony. Interesting. His parties are legendary for their debauchery. Envy and Greed must have removed their requests to host.”
“I imagine the Prince of Gluttony’s got quite a bit of food.”
“Not only that. His House is indulgence on every level. Alcohol flows from fountains, clothing is optional in his twilight garden, and trysts are often done in glass rooms lining the ballroom. There is no such thing as clandestine in his world. All is available for consumption: flesh, food, drink, carnal desire, and any manner of vice. This should be quite an event. Did you already know he’d be hosting?”
“This is the first I’ve heard anything. Have you attended one of his parties?”
“No. Last time he hosted, I was too young. I’ve always been curious. Some of the stories have taken on a surreal, fablelike aura. It’s hard to know what’s real and what’s pure fantasy. Especially with what that writer printed about him in her latest royal exposé.”
“I imagine columnists have much inspiration.”
“Oh, they do, and she does in particular. She positively detests him. Rumor claims he ruined her cousin’s chance to marry into the nobility, which is why she took up the cursed pen. So much scandal!” She happily sighed, then drew her brows together as if a new thought suddenly rained on her sunny daydream. Her focus moved over the invitation once more. “What fear do you think will be wrenched from your heart?”
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it will be horrible.”
“Maybe we can work on something that won’t be too awfully bad.”
“If only worrying about how to dance at a ball without stepping on toes and causing a scene was my biggest fear.”
My nerves about dancing weren’t exactly a lie. I’d never attended a royal ball or formal dance. We’d only danced at festivals with other people of our station. Everyone here would be watching, judging. It shouldn’t matter what they thought or if they laughed at me, but when I thought of standing there, feeling raw and exposed, my stomach clenched.
“You are a genius!” My friend slowly turned to me, her face splitting into a huge grin. “We can look into a spell or potion for you to take. We will make you the worst dancer in all the Seven Circles, worthy of your biggest fear.”
“Fauna,” I warned. “I was only teasing.”
“No, it could work. If you drank a potion to make that fear come to life in an out-of-proportion way, it’s even more likely to be wrenched from you while at a ball.”
“And if our ruse is discovered, what then?”
“We’ll just have to make sure we use an expert spell or potion.”
“Even so, the royals might sense treachery and lies.”
“We’ll simply need to practice to ensure it’s perfect.”
“There’s no need to worry about that because we’re not deceiving anyone, Fauna.”
“We should ask the Matron if she can—” Fauna dragged her attention away from the invitation and took in my expression. “Oh, angel blood. You look like you’re in need of a serious distraction. I have just the place in mind. Come. Let’s go at once.”
Without giving me a chance to object, she took my arm and raced us from my rooms, the invitation falling from her hand, forgotten for the moment. For her, at least.
Fear beat like a drum against my chest, the rhythm steady and unrelenting. And I suspected it would remain that way until the dreaded feast.
Fauna’s idea of a distraction couldn’t have been more fitting for me. She half-dragged me through the royal hallways, down several flights of stairs, into the servants’ corridor, and finally burst through the doors to a bustling kitchen. I stood there, drinking in the sights and sounds.
The kitchen was bursting with life as the staff prepared tonight’s dinner.
Several tables ran down the length of the room, with clusters of workers assigned to different tasks. Some were cutting vegetables, others carving meats, more kneading dough for breads and biscuits. Still more people stood over saucepans and skillets.
Tears threatened, but I choked them down. It would do no good to cry in front of the inner workings of House Wrath.
The cook ran his gaze over us, then nodded to a table near a wall of windows. They’d been thrown open, letting out warmth from the oven fires. “You may use anything you desire, Lady Emilia. If you don’t see something you need, simply ask.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank his highness. He instructed us to secure anything you wished.”
“Did he now?” Fauna barely hid her squeal as I walked deeper inside the room. “How unbelievably thoughtful. Wouldn’t you agree, Lady Emilia?”
“Indeed.”
I glanced around. It was nothing close to our small family restaurant—it was much larger and grand—but still, it felt like home. Against my better judgment, a wave of gratitude washed over me. Wrath had guessed I’d eventually find my way here, to the one place in this realm that would feel familiar to me unlike any other.
I turned back to the head cook. “Thank you for letting me into your kitchen.”
The cook inclined his head, then marched back to bark orders at the line cooks.
Tension melted from my limbs as I opened the icebox and spied a basketful of plump berries. A tub of what suspiciously appeared to be ricotta sat beside them. My mother was the huge talent with dessert in our family, but I’d learned enough to make a rustic pie.
I gathered up all of my supplies and set up my station near the giant window. In moments I already had the pie crust dough sorted and mixed. The berries were quickly rinsed and set on a towel to dry, awaiting the sugar I’d toss them with. Perhaps I’d make custard, too.
Metal clanging on metal drew my attention up. Wrath and Anir darted back an
d forth outside the window, their swords and daggers clashing like thunder. I couldn’t help but gawk as they charged each other, whipping their weapons through the air. Sparks literally flying upon each contact their blades made.
I gave Fauna an accusatory look. “The kitchen wasn’t the only distraction you had in mind, I see.”
Her grin was too wide to be innocent. She hopped up onto the window’s ledge and snagged a pen and notepad, feigning interest in taking recipe notes as she peered over the pages and watched the two warriors do mock battle. They swung the swords above their heads, their powerful bodies heaving from the exertion of the heavy weapons and the training.
“I have no idea what you mean, my lady. I didn’t know they’d be here.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” I watched as she gazed at Anir, recalling the two of them chatting merrily before Makaden’s tongue removal. “How long have you been in love with him?”
She jerked her attention to mine. “Why would you think I cared for the mortal?”
“You mentioned pining for someone when we first met and haven’t stopped looking at him. I won’t pry if you prefer to keep it a secret now, but I like Anir.” I nodded to the dessert station I set up, giving her a way to evade the topic. “Don’t be afraid to pick up the rolling pin and help. It doesn’t have teeth.”
She giggled behind her notepad. “Perhaps not, but have you seen the way the prince is looking at you? It’s his bite you need to watch out for.”
I rolled the dough for the crust with singular focus. I was doing everything in my power to not look at him. Of all the places in the entire castle, he simply had to choose this moment to train, in sleeveless leather armor, directly outside the kitchens.
Though I supposed Fauna was equally to blame for this so-called unexpected meeting.
“He’s got a sweet tooth,” I said, realizing she was still waiting for a response. “He’s likely looking at the pie.”
“Dessert isn’t the only thing he looks hungry for, my lady. I wish Anir would gaze upon me with such longing.”
“Pursue him.”
“Trust me, if he gave any indication he’d be open to my advances, I would pounce. His highness currently seems to be experiencing the same dilemma.”
My fiendish attention slid to the window. Torchlight glistened off a sheen of sweat Wrath had worked up wielding his sword. Our gazes clashed in time with the metal of Anir’s blade. Fauna was right. Wrath looked like he was working off the magic of our bond. And was losing the battle. He didn’t bother hiding his attention.
I promptly went back to rolling the dough, using more concentration than was required.
I could not forget the feeling of the blade sliding into his flesh. I set the rolling pin aside and started on the custard, forcing the silent crunch of bone from my thoughts.
“If I may speak freely, it’s no small favor he’s granted you.”
“What favor?”
“Not insisting you finish the marriage bond. It’s all anyone’s been talking about.”
I hoped the flush in my cheeks would be mistaken for the warmth of the kitchen. How fabulous. The entire court was gossiping about us bedding each other. “This realm certainly needs to learn the difference between choices and favors.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Some might argue that you did make a choice, the night you started the betrothal. That he was the one without true choice.”
“I find it hard to believe Wrath is tolerant of his court discussing our personal business.”
“Your potential position as the princess of this circle is everyone’s business.”
“I—”
“No one blames you, my lady. It’s just… having a co-ruler grants more power to the royals. It secures us from any bored princes in other Houses. Ones who like to stir up trouble on occasion. Princes are immortal, and while most demons live extremely long lives, we are not. Most in the court worry if war comes, our prince will not do all he can for the good of our realm. There are whispers that he may be weakening.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I scoffed. “He is the most powerful prince I’ve met.”
“His power isn’t in question, only his heart. He can seduce you easily enough. Use his influence if necessary. And yet he’s giving you time to decide for yourself.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m having trouble understanding how that is such a foreign concept. Do people in the court really believe he should force me into our marriage? Or bed me against my will? There are laws in the mortal world about that disgusting act.”
“I was not speaking of rape, my lady. That is not tolerated here without Wrath ending the life of the one who dares to take another against their will.” Fauna looked me over. “Don’t appear so shocked. The Seven Circles may be governed by sin, but there are some acts too depraved even for our realm. Punishment for rape is death. Dealt by Wrath’s hand. Other courts favor castration. I promise, if a prince decided to seduce you, especially our prince, you would choose to be in his bed of your own accord.”
“And the court is wondering why he isn’t trying to tempt me?”
“Amongst other things.” She lifted a shoulder as I stopped making the custard and stared. “Consider this. If one cuff is frayed on his suit, it sets the courts talking. They believe if a prince cannot be in control of something as simple as his clothing, there is no hope of him caring about those who live in this circle.”
“They must have entirely too much idle time if they’re gossiping about loose threads.”
“It’s never really about the clothing. It’s about the underlying meaning behind why the prince would not pay enough attention to, or care about such small details.”
I thought back to how affronted Wrath had been when I’d brought him that old shirt from the marketplace. I’d thought he was simply arrogant and unused to peasant clothing. Now I knew it ran much deeper—if anyone from this realm had seen him, they’d call his rule into question.
“A distracted ruler is dangerous, Emilia. It signals weakness. It makes the denizens aligned with that House of Sin question if they should seek new alliances.”
And the princes of Hell all coveted power. Wrath must want to complete the bond very badly. But he’d give up the security of his House, the added power, the rumors in court, all so I could have the one thing he coveted above all else: choice.
“He mentioned something about a ceremony also being required. If we…” I drew in a deep breath. “If we were to—”
“—make sweet, passionate, lust-filled love?” Fauna supplied, her face innocent. “Ravage each other until the early morning hours? Scream each other’s names as he bends you over and slams his—”
“—yes. That. Our marriage wouldn’t be complete until the ceremony was also performed, correct?”
“Correct.”
Fauna smiled as if she’d been privy to the direction my thoughts had journeyed. “Whatever may have transpired between you in the past, do not doubt him now. He must respect you enough to damn his own court. No matter how fleeting.”
I noticed she hadn’t said anything about him caring about or loving me. I wondered if having a husband who respected me would make up for the absence of the other two. Maybe I belonged in House Greed. I didn’t think I’d settle for a marriage that did not contain all three.
More troublesome yet… I wasn’t sure when I’d started considering taking Wrath as my husband. I was already in the underworld. I would soon meet each prince and have an opportunity to learn some of their secrets. I did not need to marry. And no matter what my feelings might be now, I would not give my family up for anyone. As long as I focused on that, all of my romantic notions would fade away.
Hopefully.
A note scrawled in Wrath’s hand arrived later that night.
Training begins at midnight.
Wear the crimson gown.
—W.
I considered ignoring his request, or choosing a pair of trousers and blouse just to prove he neither c
ommanded nor owned me. But acting out of spite wasn’t the road I wanted to travel.
No matter how satisfying it would be to see the glimmer of incredulity on the demanding demon’s face, his lessons would ultimately benefit me.
And I would take every advantage I could get my hands on now. The Feast of the Wolf was quickly approaching, and I would be ready to meet the demons on their playing field and crush them at their own game. In the most well-dressed, backstabbing way imaginable.
With a sigh, I fed the note to the flames and went to dress for my training date with Wrath.
TWENTY
“As soon as you start to sense the magic’s caress, you must grip your own emotions in a tight fist. You naturally gravitate toward anger; use that initially, if you must.”
Wrath circled me in the weapons room, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he ran his attention over the gown. The consummate hunter stalking his prey. Little did he know, he wasn’t the one who’d set this particular trap. Nor would he be emerging victorious.
Tonight he was definitely more beast than man, especially in matters resembling battle.
With snug leather pants and matching sleeveless armor that buckled up the front, he seemed transformed. This was not the well-mannered prince, presiding over a court of demons. This was the creature made for fighting. And it was the first glimpse I’d had of the battle-scarred warrior outside of his training with Anir earlier tonight.
His teeth flashed in a poor imitation of a smile, furthering my suspicion that he was all animal now. And he liked it. I let my gaze travel over him. Maybe I did, too.
“It will feel like a whisper across your skin. Subtle enough to barely be noticeable. Your free will is all you need to remember. You will not succumb to anyone if you choose not to.”
The atmosphere between us was charged. After he forced me to stab him we weren’t quite on friendly terms, and we weren’t solidly consumed by hatred anymore, either. With him looking like War and me Seduction, things were bound to become interesting during this lesson.
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