Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked Book 2)

This prince of Hell certainly knew how to host an unforgettable event.

Despite what negativity the columnist would undoubtedly print about the party, it was entertaining. And spectacular. The ballroom that Fauna and I stepped into dripped decadence from every square inch. In the mortal world Gluttony’s sin was thought to be food-centered, but here, in the Seven Circles, it was pure indulgence.

Last night’s opening event was a mere glimpse into how far Gluttony could push his sin of choice. Glasses made of diamonds spilled sparkling demonberry wine over tables and trays encrusted with gemstones. More than a dozen crystal chandeliers hung from curved poles set up in even intervals around the dance floor.

Garlands of flowers with clear crystals sewn onto petals were twined around the poles. It looked as if we’d walked into a winter fairy tale. If ice was made of diamonds instead of water. When the candlelight caught the crystals and precious stones, it seemed as if the flames were caught inside ice. Gluttony’s theme carried through from our meal in a grand fashion.

“This is—”

“Look!” Fauna nearly squealed. “Over there.”

Desserts—glittered with edible gold and fashioned into lifelike fantastical beasts—stood as tall as the guests. Winged ice dragons, beautiful pastel unicorns, three-headed hellhounds. It was as intriguing as it was almost unappetizing. Masqueraders did not seem to find it off-putting, carving into the flank of a unicorn, indulging in the berry-stuffed cake that resembled blood a little too closely for my tastes. My attention drifted to a platter of chocolate-covered fruits, piled as high as the night Wrath had tested me for this sin.

I swept my gaze around the room, searching for him and the other princes. None of them had arrived at this portion of the party yet. I glanced back at the ice dragon dessert sculpture. “Who won the hunt earlier?”

“I believe his highness did. He seemed intent to win at all costs.”

“Wrath did?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” She grabbed my elbow as if to keep herself from taking off. “Look over there. The rumors were true.” Fauna’s tone filled with awe. “He has tryst chambers.”

As if we were moths drawn to the flame of debauchery, we drifted closer. The infamous glass rooms lined the west side of the ballroom. Low candlelight flickered from within them, and the drapery was neatly tied back, ensuring all who passed could look their fill at the romantic displays happening in those not-so-private chambers.

Fauna clutched my arm in a viselike grip, her gaze widening behind her iridescent mask with each room and couple we strode by. The scenes were becoming more uninhibited, more daring. Thank the goddess we were masked. No matter how often I saw such public displays of sexuality, I could not stop my initial flash of embarrassment.

I felt the heat of my blush and knew my face must be close to scarlet.

Fauna was not having the same reaction; she studied the couples, as if committing certain positions to memory. If she had pulled out a notebook, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

“Did you see that?” Fauna’s voice held a hint of appreciation. “I had no idea so many people could fit into such a small chamber, let alone do what they were all doing and maintain their rhythm. That takes tremendous skill.”

“And stamina. That is the real feat on display.”

She giggled and swatted at my arm. “To think… these are the tamer tableaus. I’ve heard the twilight garden is much more risqué than I’d originally been told.”

Unbidden, I thought of Wrath. I tried not to let suspicion claw its way back in.

What he did, and whoever he might have seen last night, was none of my concern. I internally scolded myself. If Wrath were here he’d smirk and call me on the blatant lie.

Before I could examine my feelings further, a strange hush descended like a regiment of soldiers surrounding the masquerade. I scanned the ballroom, searching for the cause of such a reaction. My breath caught. Six imposing figures wearing wolf masks emerged from the corners of the ballroom. Tall, silent, deadly. There was something about them all standing together—their inner battles and schemes forgotten as they became a fearsome unit—that turned a prickle of unease into a fight-or-flight response. Even lords and ladies of Hell seemed ready to bolt.

Tension rolled through the crowd.

My focus landed on the biggest as he prowled forward. Even with a mask covering his face, I’d recognize that confident gait anywhere. Wrath didn’t simply walk into a room, he strode in and dominated it. And he wasn’t even trying to. Everyone else could fade away and he’d be left burning brightly. A constant source of power and vitality.

The princes slowly circled the crowd, as if herding everyone. Fauna and I shuffle-stepped along with everyone else, the space between us growing smaller with each step we took. Then, once everyone was near the dance floor, the princes turned and watched the stairs.

I dragged my attention from Wrath and waited. In a well-choreographed move, a lone prince made his way down the grand staircase, his hands tucked into his pockets, shoes shining like gemstones in the flickering candlelight. Even from across the massive space, I could hear the faint clap of his steps as the leather soles smacked the marble floor.

Fauna leaned close. “That’s the Prince of Pride.”

I watched the striking figure stroll through the crowd. Like the other princes, he wore a wolf mask that covered all but his bottom lip and chin. His was silver and gold. Ornate yet retaining elegance. He did not glance at anyone, nor did he acknowledge those who curtsied or bowed as he passed. His hair was a chestnut brown with threads of gold spun in. It was cut close on the sides and stylishly longer on top. Not a strand was out of place.

Not a crinkle to be found in his swallowtail suit.

Dressed in dark navy and silver, he did not blend into the shadows. He stood slightly apart, as if he wished for them to remember who owned them.

I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath, openly staring at him behind the safety of my mask, until I exhaled. The devil stood only a few feet away. A figure reviled and loathed by almost all. If the stories were true, here was a rebellious angel, cast from Heaven.

Now the king of demons. So corrupted by sin, so monstrous, that he ruled over the worst denizens of each realm. His silver gaze collided with mine, flashing like a star streaking across the sky. A chill rolled down my spine. If I hadn’t accidentally betrothed myself to Wrath, and if he hadn’t accepted the bond, I’d be staring at my husband now.

Pride scanned me from mask to toe, his head tilted to one side. I had an awful feeling he was sizing me up, debating how to best show off his skills as he took down his prey. If Wrath reminded me of a caged panther at times, Pride was a golden-maned lion.

Both princes ferocious. Both deadly. But only one could blend into the night, strike hard and fast under the cover of darkness, then slip away, undetected. I tore my attention from the devil and searched for Wrath. He’d disappeared.

“Hello, Lady Vengeance.”

The low, slightly gravelly voice was at my ear. It took all of my effort to not show surprise or tension. I hoped he didn’t sense the item I’d smuggled on my person. I slowly brought my attention to the prince at my side and offered a slight incline of my head. He was not my king. And I’d never been instructed to bow. “Your highness.”

“Would you honor me with a dance?”

Fauna sunk her teeth into her lower lip, practically dancing on the balls of her feet as she nodded vigorously in encouragement.

“I…”

“You?” He swept his attention around the room, a knowing gleam entering his eyes. The crowd surged back, as if terrified of his attention settling on them. The dance floor cleared. “Is there someone else you were hoping to dance with first? If so, let’s make him regret not asking before I did.”

“I will dance with you, but there’s no ulterior motive in it.”

“Of course.”

His amusement remained as he whisked me onto the dance floor and the orchestra immediately began playing a waltz. For a few beats, we didn’t speak. He simply whirled us around the room, my nerves over dancing in public a forgotten memory as he easily led us through the steps. He was lovely. A shining diamond encapsulated in pure platinum.

Or maybe that was what he wanted me to believe. Maybe he was really a blade. Forged in hellfire and deadly as sin. As we waltzed closer together, I waited for some spark of memory to catch and ignite hidden flames of desire. If he was the lover from my vision, my body didn’t seem to recognize him.

He leaned scandalously close. “If you’re this intrigued by my mask, wait until I take it off.”

“I assure you I am not looking at your mask, your majesty. Honestly, I’m trying to find a new set of horns or fangs.”

Pride’s eyes glittered. “I can be terrifying. When I want to be.”

“I’m sure you can, but not like someone I know.”

“Wrath?” His mouth turned down at the edges as my gaze searched the dance floor, hoping his name would be enough to summon him. “I’m unused to such beautiful dance partners thinking of my brother while in my arms.”

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed in the devil’s face. “You’re exceedingly conceited.”

“One of our most prominent family traits. Though I assure you my ego is well justified.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it, your highness.”

We waltzed across the floor, between other couples who’d joined us, his steps steady and smooth as he led me around and around. Even after Wrath’s impromptu lesson, I’d been worried I’d miss steps or stomp on his feet, but his skill was enough to overcome any of my mistakes. Part of me was disappointed. If this had gone terribly, it might have been my current largest fear.

“The Prince of Wrath is quite serious compared to the rest of you.”

“That’s what he does—he excels at war and justice. Both serious matters. And it’s why none of us have to bother with the messy bits of ruling.” I drew my brows together. “This realm would have ripped itself apart if he didn’t terrify it into submission.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

Pride swung us around until I could see Wrath leaning against the marble column. His mask was tugged back and his gaze followed each step, each glide around the ballroom.

He looked neither pleased nor angered, but there was something about his expression that made me think he was… jealous. Pride lowered his hand, skimming my spine, no doubt purposefully stoking Wrath’s annoyance. I stepped on his foot and internally smiled as he winced.

“He, dearest darling, is the balance. And is usually the only thing standing between us and total destruction. Wrath is impartial justice made flesh. He is feared because he does not hesitate to carry out a sentence, to mete out justice on those deserving punishment. If he must send someone to the Prison of Damnation, what mortals consider their version of ‘Hell,’ it is no light matter.”

Thus far, no one had spoken of the mortal souls sent here. “Where is that located?”

“It’s adorable you think I’d tell you. Have you asked Wrath?”

I had and I was fairly confident he’d said something about an isle off the western shore. “I was under the impression that was what your role is supposed to be.”

“Rules are more fun when they’re broken.” He lifted a shoulder. “Delegating is also part of ruling, is it not?”

Before I could answer, he swept us across the room once again, his motions fluid and graceful and commanding. Understanding he was no longer interested in speaking of power, I changed tactics. I waited until we were far enough away from other couples, then said quietly, “I know it’s private, but I wanted to offer my condolences.”

Pride tensed beneath my touch. I doubted I would have noticed if we hadn’t been dancing, which was exactly why I wanted to broach this subject on the dance floor.

“Losing someone you love,” I continued when he didn’t speak, “is a horrible kind of pain. I would not wish that on my worst enemy.”

“As I’m sure my brothers and I are counted amongst those you consider foes, it pleases me to hear that.”

It was only partially true, but I didn’t correct him. With the next rotation around the dance floor, his mask slipped back, revealing his mouth. A small diagonal scar carved through his upper lip and ended just below the lower one. I’d seen it before and hoped the rapid beating of my heart was mistaken for the increased tempo he used as we continued dancing.

We were gliding closer to the edge of the dance floor, nearing an alcove hidden by a series of large potted ferns. Just as we stepped close to it, I swung us around and pulled him into the shadowy spot, far from prying eyes. I couldn’t see his full expression, but I heard his sharp intake of breath as I pressed him against the wall and brought my lips to his ear.

Needing no further encouragement, he tugged off his mask, and dropped it to the floor, then went to work removing mine, mistaking our current position for something it was not.

A reaction I’d been hoping for.

“Your brother thinks you’re debauched. Too drunk on wine and lovers to bother with anything of importance.” I pulled back enough to study him. Wariness entered his features. “Yet you were leading your guards around the grounds of House Pride this morning, looking anything but intoxicated.”

“I beg your pardon?” He feigned confusion like a skilled actor. I noticed he didn’t directly address my question, giving him a way to avoid speaking a lie. “I’m here for kissing, not an inquisition. If you’re interested in talking, I can find more scintillating topics.”

He brought his mouth close to mine and I stalled him with a palm to the chest.

“Allow me to speak more clearly, your majesty. Do not stand here, pretending as if I do not recall that you were the one who made me dismount from my horse. Why did you hold me hostage at your House for so long? Was it to hide how many guards you have patrolling your grounds?”

“You cannot expect me to share information with another House.”

“Fine. Answer this for me. Why are you hiding the fact you aren’t nearly as drunk and prideful as you’d like others to believe?”

“As a matter of principle, I rarely show my true face to anyone. You would be wise to do the same.”

My gaze strayed to his scar. I doubted that was the only reason he chose to hide. “You didn’t show up to the monastery that night; you possessed Antonio. To maintain anonymity?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking about the curse?”

A familiar demon deflection tactic; answering one question with another. “I know my birth signaled the end of your curse. Therefore you must have had other reasons to hide.”

His temper flared. My hit to his pride had reached its mark. “I was not hiding. I was otherwise occupied.”

“Well, while I’m sure we could talk in circles for eternity, I didn’t pull you aside for a frustrating chat.”

“Then let’s get to the fun part.” Pride dragged his hand down my silhouette and slowly drew it back up, pausing near my thigh. His brows quirked. “What do we have here?”

“My dagger.” I grinned as he abruptly unhanded me. “The fun part is this. I will cross your lands, twice, on a time and date of my choosing, without any interference from you, your guards, or anyone who calls House Pride or that circle their home.”

“Why should I agree to such a bargain?”

“Because I know one of your secrets.”

“My bedroom talents are already widely known.”

His teasing was another attempt to deflect. I had him cornered and he was showing his teeth by smiling as if he was unbothered. I understood where the term devil-may-care originated. Pride exuded a carefree attitude perfectly. Suspiciously so.

“I won’t tell your brother about the slumber root. You’ve certainly got enough to knock out an entire army. And that, your highness, sounds like information you’d be desperate to keep to yourself. Unlike the bedroom talents you boast about.”

His gaze was hard, calculating. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he jerked his head in agreement. “Fine.”

“You’ll need to be more specific.”

“You may cross my lands, twice, without any issue from anyone who calls my circle their own. In exchange, you will not tell my brother about my slumber root. There.” He glared down his nose at me. “Satisfied?”

“More than you can possibly imagine, your highness.”

Suspicion crept into his features. Rightly so. He’d just made a grievous error.

I turned and strode out of our little alcove, but didn’t make it far before I was intercepted by another prince. Envy’s mask was off now, too, and his green eyes practically glowed as he glanced behind me. “Well played, Shadow Witch. One stone, two princes.”

“Are you drunk already?”

“Not on spirits.” He flashed the smile that showed his dimple. “I’ve come to collect you, guest of honor. It’s time for you to feed us your biggest fear. And I cannot tell you how hungry I suddenly am.”