Kingdom of the Cursed

by Kerri Maniscalco

  “So, what you’re saying is to focus on my mind and will. Or imagine killing you to maintain command over my emotions. That should be easy enough.” I smiled. “If I master tonight’s lesson, I think you should agree to grovel before me. In fact, I’d love to see you on your knees, begging.”

  His attention drifted back over my bodice.

  Tiny ribbons laced up the front. I harbored no illusions as to what he’d planned for such a dress, especially if our training was anything close to the last session. He would no doubt use demonic influence on me to undo each and every one of the bows. I wouldn’t stop until I stood before him, clad only in the lace undergarments I wore beneath it.

  Or maybe those were my own secret desires surfacing. I’d chosen those particular unmentionables with care.

  “Greed is interested in wagers. I am not.”

  “Yet it sounds like your pride will take a blow if I win. Which is why you won’t kneel before me. Perhaps you cannot stomach the idea of surrendering to anyone. Even your potential future wife.”

  “Make no mistake, Emilia. When I go to my knees before you, it will be to conquer, not surrender. If you harbor any doubts, I shall enjoy proving you wrong. Now unbuckle my armor.”

  His statement was laced with magical command.

  I felt the slight tingling sensation he’d described as his demonic influence sought to take hold of my emotions, bending them to the demon prince’s will. I was halfway across the weapons room before I shook myself out of the sinful grip. A tiny thrill went through me. I didn’t need my magic to fight against him. Only my will.

  “Unbuckle my armor, now. Then take your blade to my belt and cut it off.”

  This time, Wrath used the full strength of his power. Magic caressed me, urged me forward. His armor was undone and discarded in seconds.

  I slipped my hand beneath my gown and removed the dagger hidden there in one swift motion. The blade was to his belt by the time I regained control.

  Wrath’s mouth pressed into a firm line. “You’re distracted.”

  “I can’t imagine why.” I pretended to think on it. “Maybe it has to do with the invitation I received for the Feast of the Wolf. I’ve heard Gluttony’s parties are legendary for their debauchery.”

  “Most gatherings are laden with sin and vice. It’s the way of this realm, and why we’re training. But that’s not what you’re worried about.”

  “I thought I was to have some small say in where the feast was thrown.” I fiddled with the dagger. “I don’t—I’m not looking forward to it.”

  “You’ll be able to sense any emotional manipulation by then. And you will be equipped to break free of their influence should they behave poorly.”

  “It’s not that, either.”

  He scanned my face. “It won’t be pleasant, but it won’t be the worst thing you’ll live through.”

  “As always, you are exceptional with easing nerves. I…” I shook my head, then bent to replace my dagger in my thigh sheath. “It’s not just the fear being ripped from me.”

  “My brothers will not hurt you.”

  “I don’t know how to dance.”

  His brows raised. “You won’t be forced to dance if you don’t want to.”

  I didn’t meet his gaze. Dancing would allow me an opportunity to spend time with each of his brothers. I imagined there would be some talking involved, and I didn’t want my lack of refinement to impede my mission. Since I no longer could attempt to spell the wine, dancing and sipping a refreshment after would be perfect for conversation.

  “You’re probably right.” I forced a smile. “It’s silly to worry about.”

  Wrath didn’t respond right away. He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowed. “You danced at the bonfire the night you encountered Lust. You were magnificent then. I don’t see why you’ll have any trouble with a waltz.”

  I lifted a shoulder and turned my attention back to the table near us. Several strange daggers had been neatly lined up. They were solid black with one long piece cut out in the center of the hilt and the blade.

  “Eight-inch throwing knives.” Wrath moved to the table and plucked up a knife. “They are solid steel with a smooth handle as to not disturb your grip and are weighted in the front to make throwing more accurate. Would you like to practice?”

  I ran a finger over the cool metal. “Yes.”

  “Take it by the bottom. We’ll work on a spin technique.”

  I held it by the handle and aimed for the wooden target Wrath indicated at the far end of this section of the weapons rooms. It flew through the air, landing left of center, and fell to the ground. The demon prince nodded and handed me another blade. “The knife didn’t stick because you’re standing too close.”

  “How can you tell that?”

  “When it spins, if the blade is angled down when it falls, it indicates you need to step back. Half of throwing knives and getting them to reach your target is all about where you’re standing.”

  I shifted my stance, then repeated the steps. This time the hit came to the right of the red circle and stuck. A deep sense of elation went through me.

  I held my hand out, waiting for the next blade, and was surprised to feel Wrath’s fingers wrapping around mine instead. I twisted, confused.

  “What are—”

  “We’re starting a new lesson.” He gently pulled me closer. “Place one hand on my shoulder. And hold lightly to this one. Good.” He angled our bodies, then straightened to his full height. “The movements are simple. We’ll be dancing in a box shape. Step back on the ball of your right foot, and follow with your left. Keep them a foot apart as we move.”

  “We can’t dance here.”

  “Of course we can.”

  We struck an odd pair. Without his armor, Wrath’s chest was bare, his leather pants molded to his form, and I was dressed in crimson silk. He didn’t seem to mind. He acted as if he were in the finest evening attire, too.

  The warrior prince guided us slowly through the steps, keeping us shoulder-width apart as we swept back, to the sides and forward in a loose interpretation of a box.

  I watched our feet, worried I’d step on his or get tangled up in his legs.

  “Tilt your chin up so you can gaze adoringly into my eyes.” He grinned down at my scowl. “I want you to focus on how handsome I am, how talented at dancing and killing, and forget everything else. Except for how much you want to kiss me.”

  I couldn’t help myself; I laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Perhaps.” His voice turned low and seductive as his hand slid down to the small of my back, drawing me a little closer. “But you’re waltzing like a goddess now.”

  The warmth of him, his praise, the hard muscle beneath my fingertips… all had me swaying nearer. Wrath placed his lips against my ear. “You’re—”

  “Is this a godsdamn ballroom now?” Anir propped himself against the doorjamb, arms crossed. A lazy grin spread across his face as he batted his lashes. “Will you be teaching this new technique to all of the soldiers, your highness, or just us pretty ones?”

  With what appeared to be immense effort, Wrath tore his gaze from me, but didn’t release us from our position. “A good fighter is skilled in weapons. A great fighter is skilled in dance. Perhaps I’ll appoint you as the new dance master.”

  “While that sounds titillating, I do come with news from the dungeon.” Anir pushed himself up from the spot where he’d casually leaned, his expression serious. “It’s the mortal.”

  Wrath tensed. “What happened?”

  Anir’s attention slid to me. “He’s asking for Emilia.”

  “Antonio?” I stepped away from Wrath, heart thundering. “He’s here?”

  TWENTY-ONE

  I expected the dungeons of House Wrath to be subterranean. Unending darkness broken only by meager bits of torchlight set along desolate corridors. Stones damp with piss and other foul odors of the forgotten and damned permeating the very essence of the chambers. S
creams of the tortured souls who were abominable enough to find themselves imprisoned in Hell. I’d convinced myself the wailing I’d heard out in the gardens originated from the cells.

  Reality was much different.

  We climbed a wide stone staircase in a tower, the air crisp and clean, while light poured in through a series of arched windows set high above. A lovely wooden door greeted us at the top. There were no guards stationed outside. No weapons trained on the murderer who was waiting—just beyond the pale stone walls—for his audience with the prince and possible princess of this House of Sin.

  I gave Wrath an incredulous look. “You’ve left him unguarded?”

  “The door is magicked shut. And also locks from the outside.” He placed his palm against the wood and it clicked open. “It’s spelled to open for the both of us.”

  I blinked slowly. I seemed to have lost the ability to speak. Wrath either trusted me more than he let on, or he didn’t consider me a threat. It was foolish on his part to underestimate me.

  I walked into the room and halted.

  Antonio sat in a plush leather chair with a book and a steaming cup of tea placed on a low table next to him. A throw blanket was spread across his lap. He was in an alcove that overlooked the snowcapped mountains of the realm. An ebony river slithered through the land like a giant snake. The view was breathtaking, and the room was far better than the dormitory of the holy brotherhood. This prison cell was the height of cozy comfort.

  I wasn’t certain I was breathing.

  Antonio glanced up at our arrival, his brown eyes warm and friendly. Gone was the previous hatred he’d gazed upon me with. The disgust.

  “Emilia. You came.”

  An overwhelming wave of anger washed over me at the sight of his smile. The soft tone of his voice. Here was the human blade who had killed my twin, lounging with a book and a warm drink. As if he was on a lovely respite from the holy brotherhood instead of suffering for his crimes. Wrath had been wise after all, keeping his location secret from me.

  I was halfway across the room before Wrath’s arms circled my waist and lifted me in the air. His touch did little to soothe the fire in my veins.

  I kicked out, trying to land a blow on the despicable human.

  “Drop me at once! I’m going to murder him!”

  Wrath held me against his body without giving any quarter. I bucked against him, wild with fury that was spiraling beyond control. In the back of my mind, I knew my reaction was extreme, but I had lost the ability to see reason.

  All I could see was red.

  The red of anger and the crimson of my twin’s blood, puddled on the hard ground. Staining my hands as I slipped over it and lost any remaining sense of peace I’d know. Now I would take from him until he had nothing left. Until he met Vittoria’s same fate. I’d rip his damned heart from his chest with my teeth if I had to.

  Antonio dropped the book and pressed himself deep into the chair, his eyes wide. The only thing standing between him and a vicious attack was the demon. Irony was located in there.

  “Do you recall what I said about your anger, my lady?”

  The prince’s low voice held a hint of teasing that doused the blazing inferno of rage. The fight left my body, only to be replaced by a different sort of tension.

  Without letting me go, Wrath maneuvered us out into the corridor and kicked the door shut behind us. He carefully set me on my feet, my back against the cool stone, his arms casually placed on either side of my body.

  A glimmer of amusement shone in his eyes as I leveled a glare at him.

  “Master your temper, or we’ll attempt this again tomorrow.”

  “This was a test.”

  “You’re failing miserably.”

  Like he surmised I would. I inhaled deeply through my nose, then exhaled through my mouth. Just as he’d done the night we fought over the enchanted skulls. I repeated the exercise twice more before my emotions settled. “I’m calm now.”

  The corner of his mouth kicked up. “I find it fascinating that you continue to lie to my face, knowing full well I can sense each untruth. Rage makes for messy battle strategies. If you cannot control your fury, you risk getting hurt.”

  “Fine. I’m calmer. Though not for long if you keep poking at me.”

  “That creates quite the mental imagery.”

  And just as he’d intended, I was suddenly no longer thinking of murder, anger, or rage. A new pulse pounded through me that had little to do with my heart. My attention dropped to his wicked lips, noting the tantalizing curve of them. He hadn’t used an ounce of magic or influence. This lust-filled emotion belonged only to me. And this realm and our provocative marriage bond.

  Or maybe he wasn’t the only one whose anger swiftly turned into passion.

  Maybe it was an aphrodisiac for me, too. “You’re wholly inappropriate.”

  “Lie.” Wrath moved slowly, placing his body flush against mine. The physical contact was a welcome distraction from the anger still simmering inside me. I focused on the demon, on the heat not originating in fury. “I am your intended. And a living embodiment of sin, as you once called me. A certain amount of inappropriate behavior should be expected. Especially when the future princess of House Wrath is so appealing.”

  “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 v
illain, 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.”