Kingdom of the Cursed

by Kerri Maniscalco

  “Have you come to request a blood wish?”

  I spun around, the hood of my cloak falling back. A lone figure leaned on a walking stick, too far away and hidden behind the mist to make out clearly. Tanzie was nowhere to be found.

  I gripped the hilt of my dagger and subtly moved into the fighting stance Anir had taught me. “Who are you?”

  “The better question is, who are you, child?”

  “I am someone in need of information.”

  I couldn’t see her face in the mist, but had the impression she was smiling. “How exceptional. You see, I am someone who has information. And expects payment.”

  I paused at that, tamping down my initial response to offer her whatever she wanted. That would be dangerous in any realm, let alone this sinful one. “I will pay you in one secret.”

  “No.” The figure moved closer. The hood of her cloak was pulled low, covering her face. “I know your secrets. Better than you, I imagine. I want a favor. Collected in the future at my discretion.”

  Goddess curse me. It was a terrible bargain. “I will not commit murder.”

  “You either accept the favor, or you don’t. It will all depend, I suppose, on how badly you are in need of information. Consider this a test of courage. Which will it be? Bravery or fear?”

  Bravery might be the absence of fear in most cases, but it also seemed a little like acting foolishly for a good cause. I was not worried about being brave. I was interested in watching out for myself, making the best decision I could. If the mystery woman did indeed know me better than I did, then the best choice was to agree. Consequences be as damned as my soul.

  “I accept.”

  Before the words had completely left my lips, the figure lashed out. It happened so quickly I barely registered the sting in my arm. She’d cut me. I glanced up, ready to defend against any other attack, and halted as she carved her palm and placed it to my wound.

  She whispered a word, and a blinding flash of light cracked the night sky.

  “Go on, then, child. Ask your questions.”

  “I want to find the Seven Sisters. Are they here?”

  “No. They dwell where no sin rules above all.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “When the time is right, you will understand.”

  I gritted my teeth. Fine. “I want to know about my twin. She was murdered and I need to know which demon house is behind it. If any.”

  “You cannot expect to find answers to anyone else’s mystery, when you do not yet understand the mystery of yourself.”

  “Isn’t that the purpose of our little conversation? I didn’t agree to your bargain simply to have you toss more questions my way. You cannot tell me where Seven Sisters are, you cannot tell me about my twin. What exactly can you help me with?”

  “If you hope to find what you’re looking for, you must pass my test of courage.”

  “That was not part of our bargain.”

  “Oh, but it is. You, my child, find yourself in the center of your own mystery. Until you discover the secrets of yourself, you will not know the answers to your sister’s mystery. And that is something I cannot tell you. Some truths you must find on your own. What else troubles you?”

  I swallowed hard. “My magic. I cannot access it.”

  “I may know a way for you to gain it back. And find an answer your heart yearns for. Regarding your prince.” The figure suddenly stood before the tree. “You want to know his truth, then carve his name into the tree and take one leaf.”

  I thought back to the fable I’d read, a sick feeling twisting like a knife inside. This robed figure had to be the Crone. The goddess of the underworld. And she was something to be feared. “If I do that and guess wrong, there will be a price.”

  “A true act of courage does not come without the risk of a great cost.” Her sharp smile was the only thing I could see and did little to alleviate my nerves. “After you carve his true name and take the leaf, you must shatter it in his presence. If you are correct, you’ll know. If not…”

  I swallowed the rising bout of terror. If I was correct and she was the goddess of the underworld, her price would be death. A small detail both Envy and Celestia had left out of my education. “I don’t know for certain.”

  “You do know who he is, but you choose to remain in the shadows, comfortable in the dark. Maybe it’s not his truth you fear, but your own. Perhaps you refuse to look too closely at him because of what it reveals about you. He is your mirror. And rarely do we appreciate what stares back at us. That, my child, is where the true test comes in. Are you brave enough to confront your demons? Not many are.”

  I glanced down at my magical tattoo—the one that told our story. “This wasn’t the question I came here for.”

  “No. But it is the one you’re too frightened to ask. Therefore I inquire again, Daughter of the Moon, not who he is, but who are you?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “Wrong.” She stomped her foot, displacing the mist with her sudden movement. “Tell me. Who are you?”

  “I don’t remember. But I’m damn well going to find out!”

  “Good. It’s a start.” She gave me a small, knowing nod. “What are you going to do?”

  I glanced over my shoulder. Tanzie was back from wherever the Crone had hidden her, those liquid eyes solemn. This choice could cost me my life.

  I lifted my dagger and pressed it against the Curse Tree. I was going to carve Wrath’s true name into the wood and do as the Crone suggested: confront the truth I’d been running from.

  And if I was wrong… I’d have to pray to the goddesses I wasn’t, or I’d be joining Vittoria in our family’s tomb before the night was through.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Wrath wasn’t in his chambers, nor his library. I checked his balcony and was about to march down into the Crescent Shallows when I decided to pass through the kitchens.

  It was one of the last places I expected to find the demon of war, but there he stood, back to me, knife in hand, carving a chunk of hard cheese and adding the perfect cubes to a tray he’d already filled with various fruits.

  “You do not need an invitation to join me, Emilia.” He hadn’t turned to face me. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to be in my company.”

  “I sought you out. I should think that indicates I want your company.”

  “After you drugged me to get out of my bedchamber, I wondered if that changed.”

  “That… it had nothing to do with you.”

  He continued chopping, the knife thwacking the cutting board. “It felt pretty personal, given what had transpired between us.”

  “I—”

  “You do not need to explain yourself.”

  “I wasn’t going to. I was going to apologize that you were a casualty of what I needed to do.” Silence stretched between us. “How long were you knocked out?”

  “You cannot expect me to share that information.”

  “No, I suppose I don’t.”

  I strode over to where he worked, admiring his knife skills. The way he’d laid out the fruits and presented them was also impressive. Figs were cut neatly in quarters, berries and grapes laid in appealing heaps. He’d even found a pomegranate.

  “I didn’t think you enjoyed spending time in a kitchen.”

  “Neither did I.” He lifted a shoulder, his gaze focused solely on his task. “I don’t care much for baking or mixing, but butchering, cutting, and slicing are oddly relaxing.”

  I grinned. Of course that part of the kitchen would appeal to him. Instead of commenting or breaking the moment, I plucked a slice of apple from the platter and popped it into my mouth. I was stalling and well knew it. So much for my test of bravery.

  “In some mortal religions, apples are said to be the forbidden fruit.”

  Wrath paused for less than a heartbeat, but I’d been paying close attention. He did not lift his attention from his mission. “For someone who was raised with witches, I’m su
rprised you spent so much time with human beliefs.”

  I chose another piece of fruit. “I’ve also heard that figs, grapes, and pomegranates are contenders for the forbidden fruit.”

  “You’ve put a great amount of thought into forbidden foods.”

  “I visited the Curse Tree.” He kept carefully cutting the hunk of cheddar on his board. I moved around the other side of the table so I could face him. “I made a bargain with the Crone. And something she said made me think of forbidden fruit and trees of knowledge.”

  Wrath’s knuckles were white as he gripped the knife tighter. “And?”

  “I wanted to know about my sister, but she insisted I needed to discover my truth first. To face my fears. She said part of my truth can be found if I acknowledge who you are.” His gaze collided with mine. “She told me to carve your true name into the tree.”

  “Please tell me you refused to do so. The Crone is worse than my brothers.”

  I slowly shook my head and set the ebony and silver-veined leaf down. Wrath stared at it, looking as if I’d brought a viper into the room. I raised my fist to smash it and his hand shot out, covering mine. He tugged me close, holding my hand against his heart. It was pounding fiercely.

  “We will go back and strike another deal with the Crone.”

  I drew back enough to look him in the eye. “You’re nervous.”

  “You carved a name into a tree that demands blood in exchange for truth.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “Of course I’m wary.”

  I moved my free hand to cup his face. That wasn’t the full truth behind his nerves and we both knew it. “I know who you are.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  His tone indicated if I knew his truth, I would not be standing so near, embracing him as I was. His secret terrified me, but I would never get past it if I didn’t bring it into the light. I would never discover who I was, what happened to my twin, if I remained afraid of the truth. The Crone was right. I’d grown accustomed to the dark, I’d been kept in it for so long. First from Nonna, and now by my own design. It was time to set aside my fears and step into the light.

  Before he could register what I was doing, I kicked the table as hard as I could, sending it tumbling over, the fruit and cheese and Cursed leaf shattering in the rubble.

  He wrapped his arms around me, as if he could shield me from the Curse Tree collecting its price. But I did not feel any sudden onslaught of pain. Nor did I weaken or lose consciousness. I did not die. Did not even bleed.

  Wrath held me tighter, his breathing coming hard and fast.

  Tears suddenly pricked my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Standing there, safe in the circle of Wrath’s arms, meant I was right. And the Crone was correct once more.

  Now that I possessed the truth, I didn’t know what to do with it. I thought I’d been prepared, thought I could handle his secret being out in the open. I’d been wrong.

  And I hated myself.

  I exhaled a shaky breath, needing a moment to fully digest what I’d discovered. Wrath sensed me tunneling inward and reluctantly dropped his arms and stepped away, putting much-needed space between us. He said nothing, only waited patiently for me speak.

  Blood and bones. This was hard. But I’d been through worse, and I’d survived.

  No matter what happened next, I’d survive that, too.

  “When you brushed off the name I’d called you in the monastery, I’d wondered if there was a reason why you didn’t react more strongly.” I swiped at my eyes, still not looking at him. “You acted as if it meant nothing, that I simply irked you.” I smiled down at my hands. “Because, according to Nonna, a prince of Hell will never reveal their true name to their enemies.”

  I could feel his attention boring into me, but I still could not meet his gaze.

  “I know witches and demons are enemies. But there’s more to our story, isn’t there?”

  “Emilia…”

  “You are temptation. Seduction.” I finally dragged my focus to his arm, nodded at the intricate snake tattoo. “The serpent in the garden. The one who’d encouraged mortals to sin.”

  I pulled my attention higher, finally settling it on his eyes. I took him in, really looked at him objectively. His face, his body, his entire presence and how he carried himself screamed authority. Domination. And was designed to seduce. He was temptation made flesh.

  His expression shuttered as he waited. Now, more than ever, I desperately wished I could sense his emotions. Though I suspected he was sensing mine, and that was why he’d grown so distant. His armor was firmly back in place. And he was shielding himself from me.

  “I don’t know how you’ve fooled humanity for so long, but it’s as Envy said. You are the most skilled liar of all. Samael.”

  His true name seemed to unsettle him. It didn’t look as if he’d taken a breath since our conversation began. He exhaled now. “Prince of Darkness. King of the Wicked. I have been called many things, but I am no liar.”

  I searched his face. I’d been right. I knew it the moment the tree did not collect its due, but the truth was hard to digest. Wrath was the devil. The evil feared the world over.

  And I’d stupidly fallen for his seduction. For his smoldering gold eyes and keen wit. His pride in his appearance. The way he protected those under his care and chose justice over revenge. No wonder the mortal world confused the two princes so easily—Pride and Wrath certainly shared a lot of similarities.

  “You had plenty of opportunities to tell me you were the devil. You were the one cursed by La Prima. Did Pride’s wife even die, or was it your consort?”

  “I have not directly lied to you.”

  “Stop omitting things.”

  “Unlike Pride, I’ve never had a consort. But yes, I was cursed by the First Witch. As were all of my brothers. My penalty for not aiding her was steeper—she stole something very important to me. Something I will do nearly anything to get back.”

  “The Horn of Hades,” I guessed, thinking of the devil horn amulets.

  I hadn’t missed them. If anything, I felt… relief at my charm’s absence over the last few weeks. It was completely at odds with how I’d felt when he’d first taken them back. Though I suspected it had to do with my painful experience in the Crescent Shallows.

  I recalled my worry over the devil being mad at Wrath for letting me borrow the cornicello that night. How foolish I must have seemed to him.

  “You were the only one who didn’t seem to want them. Which I suppose indicates you wanted them more than the others, and didn’t want to appear too eager and raise suspicion.”

  “They are my wings, not horns. Your first witch cursed them into a mockery of mortal lore, then hid them from me.” He seemed to be lost in a memory. One that had his hands fisting at his sides. When he looked at me again, a cold fury burned in his eyes. “In order to restore them, I need a spell found in her grimoire.”

  “You have wings.” Because he was an angel. Goddess above. It was one thing to suspect it, and another to have that suspicion confirmed.

  “Had.”

  There was a world of anger and pain wrapped in his voice. Part of me wanted to go to him, soothe the emotional wound that was still raw. Instead I remained where I was, reeling.

  His wings were a connection to the angelic world. The realm he’d left behind. It was hard to believe the devil mourned something that tied him to the place he’d hated enough to be thrown out of for eternity.

  Or maybe none of that was true. Maybe those were just more mortal tales, twisted and slightly wrong through the passage of time. Wrath didn’t seem like evil incarnate. Or some grand seducer. Except… he had slowly worked himself into my life. And my heart. Was that not proof of seduction? Of a slow scheme unfolding?

  “Emilia.” He reached for me and I flinched. His hand dropped away. “I can sense your basic emotions, but I want to know how you really feel.”

  “You’re the devil.”

  “So you’ve reminded me
.”

  “But Lucifer… Pride… I don’t understand.”

  He heaved a great sigh. “My brother’s sin of choice makes it nearly impossible for him to deny being the king of demons. Mortals assume that’s who he is, and his pride keeps him from admitting the truth. He’s only too pleased to feed his ego. I harbor no emotions one way or the other about my true title. It is a duty to me. An obligation thrust upon me. Nothing more. If anything, with Pride soaking up the prestige, it allows me to complete my job without posturing.”

  “Has anything been real between us, or has it been a careful seduction? A bit of truth sprinkled in with the lies.”

  “Tell me.” His eyes narrowed. “When you agreed to marry Pride, thinking he was the devil, did it matter then?”

  Unbidden, a memory came back to me. “In the Crescent Shallows, the night we… you called me your queen.”

  “You came here, believing you’d be Queen of the Wicked. That is all true. If you choose to complete our marriage bond, you will be not simply my queen, but the queen.” He searched my face, his expression turning remote. “The only change is which brother you will be marrying. Everyone in this realm knows who I am. My true title. It’s only mortals who assume otherwise. So, I ask once more, does it truly matter now that you know who I am?”

  “I’m honestly not sure. It’s a lot to absorb. You are the devil. Evil incarnate.”

  “Is that who you know me to be?”

  “Outside of this realm, it’s what the whole world thinks of you.”

  “I am not interested in what others think. Only you.” He stepped back and inclined his head. His movements stiff. “Thank you for your honesty. That is all I needed to hear, my lady.”

  “Wrath, wait. I—”

  He vanished in a glittering cloud of smoke.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered to the empty room. Smoke hung in the air several long moments after Wrath left. I stared at it, eyes burning, wishing I could cast a spell to reverse time. It would be so much easier to simply forget what had happened. Or, better yet, forget the truth of his name. His title. And the way my heart ached at the thought of any or everything between us being part of some larger game.