Kingdom of the Cursed

by Kerri Maniscalco

  “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.

  A small pouch hung on its side. Gluttony must have had it readied.

  Placing one foot in the stirrup, I swung myself up and over, grateful I’d decided to wear thick stockings under my dress. Choosing to sit astride was hardly an appropriate position, but I doubted anyone in the underworld viewed it the same way as mortals.

  My thighs tightened around the horse as I readied myself. I clucked my tongue and lifted the reins. I didn’t have to urge the great beast further. Tanzie trotted away from the stable and made her way down a sloping hill, gaining speed on the decline instead of slowing.

  Judging from the muffled sounds of hooves beating snow, the hunting party was behind us, either in the forest or just at its edge. There were no rules that stated I had to participate in the hunt, but I didn’t want to get caught out here and be encouraged to join them.

  My breath clouded in front of me as I leaned forward in my seat, heart thumping in time with each beat of the steed’s hooves. We careened around Gluttony’s castle, the gentle slope turning into a sharp drop-off. My unbound hair flew back as the biting winds stole nips of my flesh. Tears stung my eyes, but I couldn’t blink, couldn’t help myself as I stood higher in the saddle while the horse plunged down the mountain. A memory was stirring… I felt as if I’d been here before, racing the wind and riding like a warrior into battle.

  I forgot about the hunt, the Feast of the Wolf, and all of the demons riding close by. I had no idea where I was going, but something called to me, deep in my blood. It screamed at me to remember, to let go of thoughts and simply feel.

  Tanzie neighed as if confirming those feelings. As if she’d wanted me to recall this was what we’d been created for. This feeling of ultimate freedom and shucking restraints away. All that mattered was the ground we hurtled over and the blood pumping in our veins.

  As we crested a massive hill, a field of black rose like an ink stain across the snow. I drew us to a slow trot and led Tanzie closer to the shimmering hill. Up close, I saw that the dark mass wasn’t solid. It was millions of tiny black flowers growing through the ice. I brought Tanzie to a stop and jumped down. The ebony petals had silver dots on them.

  Intrigued, I plucked one, surprised when the whole root slipped out easily. The odd silver roots glimmered brightly, then dried up before my eyes. Magic or some peculiar hell plant. I wanted to study them later and see what else they could do. I grabbed a handful of flowers and tucked them into a small leather pouch fastened on the saddle.

  Tanzie neighed, stomping imperiously, signaling her boredom with our diversion of flower picking. Without looking back at the undulating field, I hopped back onto the horse, and we rode even harder than before. I was so caught up in the sensory aspect of the ride, of the exaltation of the icy air nipping at my skin and stealing my breath, that I didn’t notice the castle towering before us. Nor was I aware that we’d crossed some invisible boundary line.

  It was only when the first round of guards circled us, swords aimed and ready, shouting for me to halt, that I realized my error. I’d invaded another demon prince’s domain without invitation. Tanzie reared back, then dropped to the ground, stamping her feet as one guard silenced the others and called out a clear command to me.

  “Dismount and drop to your knees.”

  “There seems to be a misunderstanding.” I held tight to the reins. “I was riding at House Gluttony and didn’t realize I’d come so far.”

  “I said, dismount and drop to your knees.”

  The guard who’d spoken stepped from the formation. His open-faced iron helmet had deadly-looking wings on either side. Across the top band, where the helmet molded over his forehead, a set of gold claw marks were etched onto the metal.

  I noted none of the other guards shared that design, making him the obvious leader of their group. Another line of guards appeared from the castle, arrows nocked in their bows.

  I paid them little mind, focusing instead on the biggest threat.

  My gaze slid over the lead guard’s features, committing them to memory should things go wrong and I needed to recall details upon my escape. Burnished gold hair peeked out from the upper portion of his helmet. His sun-kissed skin was free from all but one imperfection: a pale silver scar that diagonally cut across a pair of arrogant lips.

  I couldn’t make out the color of his eyes from where I sat, but the hardness in them would never be forgotten. Tanzie snuffed the air, dancing back as the other guards took another step forward, closing their ranks. If I dismounted now, I would certainly regret it.

  I sat taller, donning my most commanding tone. “I demand to speak with the prince of this House. There has been a mistake.”

  “Dismount before my sword finds its way into your gut.”

  “Touch me, and I promise you will feel more than my wrath.” The smile that tugged at my lips was as vicious as his weapon. “It might be worth the pain just to watch the Prince of Wrath carve you apart. I doubt he’ll go easy on anyone who harms his princess.”

  Surprise flickered in his gaze before he schooled his features.

  “Forgive me, but I do not recall receiving word that you were invited onto our lands.” He stepped closer, lining his blade up with my heart. “Which grants me permission to remove the threat to our territory as I see fit. Now get off the fucking horse, princess.”

  If I were to focus on the positive in a very bad situation, I was not chained and escorted into a cell. I was brought to a lavish parlor and promptly locked inside with a handful of armed guards stationed at the doors and windows. I ignored their icy stares and scanned the room.

  White marble floors and walls shined cheerfully i
n the flickering candlelight. Silk furniture—gilded and ornate enough to rival the Sun King’s famed palace in France—surrounded me. I sat on the edge of a pearl-colored brocade settee, fingers itching to clasp my hidden dagger. No one spoke. There were no royal crests on their uniforms, nothing to indicate which royal House of Sin I’d accidentally invaded.

  Not that I could identify anything other than Greed’s crowned frog insignia if I did spy a crest. I knew with certainty I wasn’t in House Wrath, Envy, or Gluttony. As far as I could recall, almost all of the seven demon princes should be at the Feast of the Wolf by now. Which was the likely complication behind the guards not knowing the proper protocol for dealing with a trespasser. One bright note in this dismal situation was I’d found the perfect hiding place to avoid the hunt.

  An imperial rococo clock above the mantel ticked the seconds away. The lead guard had dropped me off here and left, murmuring orders to the two guards standing on either side of the door. Their attention had slid to me before they jerked their chins in acknowledgment of whatever he’d said. A quarter of an hour passed. Surely, as the guest of honor, someone from House Gluttony would notice my absence. Wrath most assuredly would come looking.

  A full hour crawled by. No one came. Another hour passed in what had to be the slowest shift of time in history. Still, no prince arrived, dagger in hand, to free me.

  It was time to become my own hero and save myself.

  I cleared my throat. “Which royal House is this?”

  Silence.

  No one shifted, or even blinked. It was as if I hadn’t spoken at all. I settled back onto my seat, getting comfortable. Another hour slipped by and just when I was about to go mad, the door cracked open. One of the guards blocked my view, and the voices were too quiet to make out any part of the conversation. The guard nodded, then closed the door.

  He pivoted in my direction, his expression cold. “Get up.”

  My knees locked. “Where are we going?”

  “His highness is releasing you.”

  “I don’t understand… doesn’t he wish to speak with me?”

  The guard’s face split into a cruel grin. “Best to not inquire about his wishes. I suspect they would give you nightmares.”

  The ride back to House Gluttony was cold and miserable.

  I couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding that trailed me like a shadow. Tanzie seemed just as disturbed; she rode hard and fast, her hooves brutally digging into the snow and ice as if she couldn’t get us away from the cursed demon House fast enough. We crested the mountain and ran full force to the south side of the castle. Gluttony leaned against the railing outside the stables, a cobalt capelet fluttering in the breeze. He watched our approach, one brow quirked.

  “Anything interesting happen?”

  I dismounted and patted Tanzie’s flank. “What game are you playing at?”

  “Currently?” He checked a pocket watch. “The sort where I escort you to your chambers. The masquerade ball begins in a few hours. Your little jaunt almost put us behind schedule.”

  My little jaunt into being a prisoner. Before I could quip back at him, he was in front of me, blade flashing as he cut the small leather pouch from Tanzie’s saddle.

  “This”—he plucked a flower out and held it up, the silver roots sparkling as they twisted in the light breeze—“is slumber root. Capable of knocking out even the most powerful royal. What sort of nefarious plans do you have for this evening?”

  “None.”

  “Really?” He sounded disappointed. “You have in your possession a plant most princes fear, and you have no cunning designs on using them against us?” He tossed the pouch of slumber root to me. “Scheme bigger, my friend. Let your inner deviant free.”

  “Now that I know what it does,” I said sweetly, “I’ll be sure to put it to use.”

  “Good. Now let’s get ready for some debauchery.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  My beaded gown was extravagant. And heavy. Goddess above, I swore it almost weighed a quarter of my full body weight. A corset was built into the fitted top, and it was tight enough through the hips that I felt as if I’d been dipped in liquid gold. Metal sequins sewn in a series of geometric designs accentuated my curves. Hips, waist, bust. Each section boasted a mix of beads, sequins, and patterns designed to draw the eye.

  I twisted in the mirror, admiring the hard work that went into making such a garment.

  Champagne-colored silk whispered across my skin. The skirts split in the center, a few inches above my knees, and the beaded portion ruffled over pure, untouched silk. A shiny gold belt with vines and thorns brought an edge of danger to the beauty.

  My mask… that was all House Wrath. I’d been informed that the princes could only wear wolf masks, and the rest of the assembly were free to wear whatever they’d like.

  The half-mask I’d had made was tasteful. Dark gold with delicate lines of spun glitter, offering the barest hint of snakeskin. I’d left my hair loose and wild, adding a few gold clips to pull it back from my face. I’d just finished the final touches when Wrath walked into the room and halted.

  I couldn’t stop the coy smile from lifting my lips as I tossed the needle and thread I’d been holding back into my sewing kit. “It will do, I think.”

  His intense gaze strayed to the mask. “Where did you find that?”

  I reached up, brushing my fingers against the cool metal. “A proper gentleman comments on his date’s beauty. Not where she found a mask.”

  “Are you my date tonight?”

  His tone held a note of teasing. Underneath I sensed a thread of tension, though. I tried not to think about where he was last night, why he never came to my room when he promised he would. I had no idea what Lust wanted but could guess the sort of entertainment he might seek and goad his brother into. The sudden tightening in my chest felt too much like hurt.

  “You’re escorting me there.” I lifted a shoulder. “I’m not sure what else to call you. If you’d like me to try, I can probably come up with a few choice descriptions.”

  “Of that I have little doubt.”

  I openly admired his suit. Ebony and gold—his waistcoat also featured snakeskin, except his was made entirely of metal, like chain-mail armor. “Expecting a battle?”

  “Only if you ask me to fight off suitors.”

  “Where’s your mask?”

  He held out an arm. “Enjoy the mystery of it.”

  “I am about to be subjected to the honor of having my biggest fear or a secret of my heart torn from me. Enjoying anything about this evening doesn’t feel realistic. I’d like to know what exactly to expect from each portion of the evening.”

  “Dinner is next. And I’m certain you will find it pleasing.”

  Without offering any more hints, Wrath escorted me down a stunning set of stairs and into a foyer filled with masked attendees sipping from champagne flutes and chatting in hushed tones. The atmosphere tonight was more subdued, but no less enchanting.

  Gluttony noted our arrival and clapped his hands once, smoothly drawing the assembled partygoers’ attention. “Everyone, please, go into the dining room and take your seats. The feast is about to begin.”

  Wrath led me to our places, and I was happy to see Fauna had been assigned the seat next to mine. Anir was across from her, and that was where my good fortune ended. Lady Sundra glided in, radiant like sunshine, her expression turning stormy when she spied me.

  “Lady Sundra.”

  Her jaw tightened, and I immediately realized the unintentional trap I’d set for her. With Wrath present, I’d forced her into using my title. “Lady Emilia.”

  Envy swept into the room and sank into the chair opposite Wrath—and beside a still-glowering Lady Sundra—with a knowing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  Before he could taunt me with whatever was brewing in his gaze, a chef strode into the room. “Good evening, lords, ladies, and princes of the underworld. Tonight’s menu theme is Fire and Ice. Each m
ortal land’s dish will represent the chosen elements in some form or another. Our first course is a frisée salad that features ice. You’ll see why shortly.”

  An army of servants carried out individual plates and set them before each guest at the same time. Worries over Lady Sundra vanished. I could not tear my attention from the dish. Greens were placed in a circle on a wooden slab, resembling a bird’s nest plucked from a tree.

  Sprinkled around the greens were bits of cheese and crushed pecans. In the center was a ruby-colored egg-shaped form filled partially with liquid. It was not simply a salad—it was a work of art, of passion. Creative genius on a level I’d never encountered.

  I was happy to see I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t picked up a utensil yet, not quite ready to disturb the edible sculpture.

  “A frozen strawberry vinaigrette.” The Prince of Gluttony tapped the faux egg, cracking it and spilling the dressing. He tossed the bits of cheese and crushed nuts into the leafy greens, mixing it all with the dressing. Everyone followed suit, their excited chatter filling the large dining chamber.

  Wrath watched me, the corners of his mouth twitching as I cracked my vinaigrette egg and marveled at the dish. “You’re having a terrible time, I see.”

  “Dreadful.” Despite the intrusive attention I felt coming from the opposite side of the table, I returned his grin. “It’s almost too pretty to eat.”

  Finely cut bits of mint, shaved red onion, and fennel paired exquisitely with the bitter greens. Once our plates were cleaned, the waitstaff quickly disposed of them, making way for our next culinary delight. As if he were a maestro and the food the orchestra he was conducting, the chef reappeared, proudly announcing his next dish.

  “Our second course for you this evening features fire. The ‘candle’ is made from bacon fat. As it slowly burns it will create a sauce for you to dip your scallops and shaved, charred parmesan brussels sprouts in.”