Kingdom of the Cursed

by Kerri Maniscalco

  I’d never seen the front exterior of House Wrath. When I’d first arrived, it had been delirious in Wrath’s arms, and we’d entered through a mountain. His castle was massive, with a gate house, turrets, towers, and an enormous wall that spanned the entire perimeter. Pale stone with black tiled roofing. It was a magnificent study in contrasts.

  Vines, frozen solid, clung to the walls.

  We passed through the gates and rolled to a stop in a half-circular drive. The emissary waited for a footman to open the coach and then accepted his assistance out. She left without a backward glance, her duty to collect the wayward fiancée done.

  I stared after her, wondering why she’d been so cold and if I’d done something to offend her. I knew I hadn’t. Aside from my surprise at seeing her instead of Wrath, I’d been friendly.

  An uncomfortable suspicion slithered in about her relationship with Wrath, but I shoved it aside. I refused to let it matter.

  The footman handed me down and I took my time walking up the stone stairs to the front door. To my right, tucked near the wall, was a garden hidden within a hedge. I made a mental note to visit it once the weather warmed.

  If the weather ever warmed. As if on cue, snow began lightly falling, dusting the castle in a fine layer of shimmering flakes.

  I hurried inside and brushed off my traveling cloak. Aside from the footman, who was seeing to my trunk, there were no servants waiting to tend to me, for which I was relieved.

  I made it back to my bedroom suite without running into anyone. No servants cleaning the castle or its many rooms. No Fauna or Anir or Wrath. I was immensely grateful I didn’t see any of the other noble occupants, like the now tongueless Lord Makaden or overly talkative Lady Arcaline.

  As the afternoon wore on, I grew restless, though. I was not used to having so much idle time. Back home I was always in the trattoria, or working on my craft in our home kitchen, or reading when I wasn’t falling into bed, bone tired from a hard day’s work. I was also rarely alone—my family was always there, laughing and talking and warm. Other nights I’d comb the beach with my sister and Claudia, sharing secrets and our hopes and dreams.

  Until my twin was murdered. Then my world irrevocably changed.

  Unable to bear the morbid twist of my thoughts, I marched down to Wrath’s suite and knocked. No answer. I considered testing to see if the door was locked but refrained. When I’d intruded on him after his violent outburst at dinner I’d had a valid excuse.

  I trudged back to my room and decided to work on finding Source again. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the inner well of magic. A few seconds later, I tunneled down into my center, then crashed. It felt as if I’d collided with a brick wall.

  I tried to muster up the energy to locate it again, but I was more exhausted than I’d thought. I’d spent the better part of last night awake in bed, fearful of Envy returning in a rage. And the previous night I’d barely slept because of Wrath’s confession. I imagined to harness Source I needed to be well rested. And I was anything but.

  I pulled out the journal on House Pride I’d borrowed from Wrath’s library and slowly flipped through each page in hopes of something being written in a language I knew.

  My efforts were wasted. There weren’t even drawings or illustrations for me to decipher. It was just page after page of small, handwritten notes in what might be demon script. My attention kept straying to my trunk, to the object I’d smuggled from Envy inside it.

  I didn’t want to remove it from its hiding place just yet. I had a feeling someone might come looking for it soon enough. I couldn’t believe it had been so easy to snatch. Too easy, really. Part of me expected alarms to sound and Umbra demons and vampires to swarm in the moment I’d lifted the spell book from its case. Nothing happened. I’d simply walked to my room, sewn it into the inside of my trunk, and waited for a reckoning that never came.

  I turned back to the here and now, flipping through the next few pages. I refocused on Pride’s House journal, the squiggly lines blurring together.

  I woke up several hours later, my face pressed against the open journal.

  It was not my kind of book, obviously. A romance novel would have kept me up into the wee hours of the morning, never quite turning the pages fast enough while also trying desperately to savor each tension-filled interaction between the hero and heroine.

  I adored how they more often than not despised each other, and how that spark of disdain flamed into something else entirely.

  Real life certainly wasn’t anything close to a romance novel, but there was still a small part of the old me left that hoped for a happy ending. There was no denying a spark existed between me and Wrath—along with plenty of disdain—but the likelihood of it turning into love was the true fantasy.

  I combed my hair and went to check Wrath’s rooms again. The demon was still out. Or he wasn’t bothering to answer his door. I stood there, hand falling to my side. It was possible he was upset by my dismissal of him at Envy’s. But something about that didn’t feel right.

  He’d been by my side for months in the human world, and then for nearly two weeks here. If he did have a lover, he might have stolen away to visit her. I doubted he would have expected me to return so quickly. I ought to rejoice in the solitude. I had no one looking over my shoulder, no lust-fueled urges toward completing a marriage bond. No distractions. And yet… and yet I didn’t want to think about why I was gripped with unease.

  I called for dinner and ate in my rooms, thinking about Envy’s conversation and all I’d learned. Specifically, the truth spell used on wine and what it might mean for the rest of my mission. The magic worked on a prince of Hell. And while I hadn’t noticed anything different about our beverage, it didn’t mean a prince wouldn’t sense the otherness. Envy had known what was coming, so I couldn’t use him as any means of judging.

  What I wanted was to test a theory. And I needed Wrath. If I could spell his wine without him knowing, I might find it to be a useful skill to employ at the Feast of the Wolf. All of the princes would be in attendance. I could whisper the spell over our toast and find out who was responsible for Vittoria’s death without anyone being the wiser.

  If Wrath couldn’t sense the spell. That plan only worked if the test was successful.

  I told myself that was the main reason I’d been pacing the corridor outside his rooms the next morning. Listening for any sign of his return. Surely it had nothing to do with missing him. Or growing suspicions of where he’d gone, and who he might be with. Which was nonsense that belonged to House Envy. Maybe those were simply residual jealous emotions left over from my visit to that House of Sin. If such things even occurred.

  Two more days passed and still no word from the prince of the House. I had tried a few more times to summon the source of my magic but was met with that same resistance. There was no information on it in the grimoire, so I had to wait it out. Eventually I’d master dipping into that well. I spent my time in the library, searching for new fables. I was interested in learning more about the Curse Tree, especially the line that claimed it granted more than wishes.

  I also searched for any books on the Temptation Key or the Triple Moon Mirror. Thus far my efforts were all in vain. Finally, when I thought I’d go mad, a knock sounded at my door.

  “Hello, Lady Em.” Anir grinned. “I’m here to bring you on an adventure.”

  “Lady Em?” I crinkled my nose. “No one has ever called me Em. I’m not sure I like it.”

  “That’s because you never had a clandestine meeting. Come on. Put on a tunic and trousers, then meet me out here. We’re late.”

  “Where are we going?”

  He flashed another smile. This one made my stomach twist up with nerves. “You’ll see.”

  Deciding whatever he’d planned had to be better than sitting alone in my room, or roaming the library and not finding anything useful, I quickly rushed into my bedchamber and changed into the clothes he’d suggested.

  Once I tugged on
some flat shoes, I followed him into the corridor. We went up one flight of stairs and stopped near the end of a long hallway.

  “May I present…” Anir shoved the door open. “The weapons room.”

  “Goddesses above.” I sucked in a sharp breath, though I shouldn’t have been surprised at the grandeur, given Wrath’s role as general of war. Here was the pearl of House Wrath. “It’s impressive.”

  “I hear that a lot,” Anir teased. “Go in.”

  I stepped over the threshold. My focus darted around the cavernous room that seemed to go on and on. Columns broke the space into smaller, interconnected chambers. If Envy’s gallery was the most telling part of his personality, here was Wrath’s soul laid bare.

  Beautiful. Elegant. Deadly. Honed to brutal perfection and unapologetic about glorying in violence. I stood there, cataloging everything.

  The glass ceiling allowed light to filter in and illuminate what would otherwise be a darkened space. The walls and floor were black marble with gold veining. In the main room we’d entered, there was an occult design—featuring the phases of the moon on one side, a smattering of stars on the other, and a serpent swallowing its tail in a circular shape—inlaid in gold on the floor. From what I could see, each corner of that section of the floor featured one of the four elements. Part of the design was covered by a large mat placed directly in the center.

  Gold serpents coiled around the ebony marble columns, making them the most fantastical and gorgeous columns I’d ever seen.

  Swords, daggers, shields, bows and arrows, and an assortment of knives gleamed in black and gold from their meticulously spaced positions on the walls.

  I spun in place, taking in the splendor of it all. In the very back of the room there was a mosaic of a serpent. Unlike the ouroboros inlaid on the floor, this snake’s body coiled into an intricate knot. It reminded me of something, but I couldn’t place it.

  Against the far wall was a bale of hay with a giant target painted on its center. A small table lay to the left with daggers lined up in a perfect row. I stared at them, my fingers itching to grip their hilts and toss them through the air.

  “Our first lesson will be on your stance.” Anir moved to the center of the weapons room and pointed to the space on the mat in front of him. I stopped gawking and stood where he’d indicated. “Your feet should always be planted firmly on the ground, giving you steady leverage to lunge, strike, or dodge swiftly in any direction without losing balance.”

  I shifted so I mirrored his position. His feet were slightly wider than his hips, with one a step forward and the other planted back. There was something almost familiar about the pose, but I’d never fought or had reason to have lessons such as this.

  “You’ll want your weight distributed evenly. Make sure your knees follow the direction your feet are pointed.”

  I wobbled a little, then adjusted myself. I’d barely glanced up when Anir rushed forward, forearm thrust out like a battering ram, and made contact with my solar plexus, sending me flying backward. My arms windmilled before I landed ungracefully on my rear.

  I glared up at my teacher. “You, signore, are terrible.”

  “I am. And you, signorina, just learned your first lesson,” he lobbed back at me. He held out a hand and helped me to my feet. “Never take your attention off your opponent.”

  “I thought this lesson was on stance.”

  “It is.” He winked. “Looking down doesn’t do you any favors with balance. If you have to glance down, use your eyes, not your entire upper body. Self-awareness is key.”

  We repeated the routine with varying degrees of my being knocked on my bottom. Even with the padded mat on the floor, I’d be sore in the morning. With each strike, I grew a little more secure in my stance, wobbled less. Sweat beaded my brow as we sparred again and again.

  It felt good, working my body, emptying my mind.

  Sometime later, Anir called for a break and blotted at the perspiration on his neck and face with a length of linen. I was still ready to go but stepped back, bouncing on the balls of my feet. I felt alive, my muscles shaking but hungry for more use.

  He bent at the waist. “Take five.”

  I followed him to a side table set up with a pitcher of water and glasses.

  “Where is Wrath?” I don’t know why I blurted it out, but it seemed odd that the demon of war was nowhere to be found while we were in his glorious weapons chamber.

  Anir glanced sideways at me as he poured himself a glass and downed it by half. “I didn’t think you’d mind his absence.”

  “I don’t. I’m just curious.” When he didn’t respond, I found my ridiculous mouth filling the silence. “He seemed uneasy about my choosing to visit House Envy. I would have thought he’d wish to see me when I returned.”

  “Do you ask after me when I’m away?”

  “No.”

  “Ouch.”

  Blood and bones. I immediately kicked myself as Anir’s grin widened. I poured myself some water and took a sip. “I just meant…”

  “No offense taken.” His eyes glinted with amusement. “Lie to yourself all you want, but you’ll have to do better around me.”

  “Fine. The truth is the emissary got under my skin.”

  “Lady Sundra?” Anir snorted. “I imagine so. Her father’s a duke, and she’s never let anyone forget that elevated rank. She always believed she’d make an advantageous marriage match with a prince.”

  “Ah. That’s why she became emissary. It put her in close proximity to all of the royals.”

  “Look at you, Lady Em. You’re thinking like a cunning noble now. Most of the princes have no designs of being caught in a marriage snare, though. No matter how many schemes noble families like hers attempt, the princes are content as they are. Her natural state runs angry; it’s nothing personal against you.”

  “So, the higher the rank, the more the demons exhibit the sin they’ve aligned with.”

  “From what I’ve gathered in my time here, yeah. Though no one can ever gain enough power to overthrow a prince. They are something else entirely. It’s like the difference between a lion and tiger. Both are large, predatory cats, but they are not the same.”

  “And the lesser demons? They’re different from the nobles.”

  “Indeed. And it’s why they often choose to live on the outskirts of their circles.”

  “If Lady Sundra is best aligned with House Wrath, how would she marry a prince who represented a different sin?”

  “It would be rare, but not unheard of for her to shift sin alignment.”

  I propped myself against the table’s edge and set my glass down. “You knew Wrath had initiated his acceptance of the marriage bond the night the Viperidae attacked me.”

  “All hail the queen of changing topics.” He offered a dramatic bow. “Is there a question in there, or are you looking for confirmation?”

  “I know I’m not his first choice in a wife,” I hedged, still thinking of the duke’s daughter, “but I’d like to know if there was someone he was interested in before… everything.”

  The teasing light left Anir’s face. “It’s not my business or my place to share his story.”

  “I’m not asking you to. I only want to know if there was someone else.”

  “Would it change anything if there was?”

  I thought about it. My curiosity was at play, for certain, but it would change matters. I would refuse the bond and have our fate decided by the council of three Wrath had mentioned.

  If he loved someone, well, that would both make me uncomfortable and also clear my way to pursuing Pride. Which was still the surest path to achieving my goal of vengeance.

  Unless, of course, I beat Envy to finding the Temptation Key and Triple Moon Mirror. And if a demon prince couldn’t sense the spelled wine or food, I might be able to garner truth that way. But I’d need to practice on a prince of Hell, and one was still notably absent, curse him.

  I returned to the matter at hand. I would no
t want to be tied together in a loveless marriage with Wrath if he would always be pining for someone else.

  “Yes. It would. It would change a lot.”

  “Careful.” A low voice drawled from behind me. “Or I might think you’d actually like to marry me.”

  SEVENTEEN

  I closed my eyes and silently swore before glowering at Anir. “You are truly the worst.”

  “I bet seven devil coins you feel different after your next lesson.” The traitor shot me a devious grin. “Don’t forget your purse tomorrow, Lady Em.”

  “Lock the door on your way out.”

  Wrath’s voice was much too close. I felt his breath near the base of my neck, and I briefly considered rushing to the door or inventing a spell to have the floor swallow me whole. Instead, I squared my shoulders and slowly turned around. His focus was entirely on the human. Anir lost a bit of his playful swagger, replacing it with a seriousness I hadn’t seen in him since the night Lord Makaden lost his tongue.

  “No one is to enter this room until I give the signal that our training is over. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  Anir offered me a polite bow and quickly made for the exit. Coward. I smiled to myself. Speaking of cowards, pretending the demon prince wasn’t there, and hadn’t overheard something I never meant him to hear, would not serve my bid for being fearless, either.

  I forced myself to meet Wrath’s imposing stare and hid my surprise as I assessed my newest opponent. He wasn’t dressed entirely in black today; he wore a brilliant white shirt and tailcoat. I took in his huge frame, the cold set to his features, and swallowed hard. He was not in a pleasant mood. I decided now was not the time for bravery. A clever schemer understood the art of retreat. Wrath was up to no good and I wanted no part in discovering how bad he could be.

  “I don’t think your training is necessary. Anir was doing an exceptional job.”