Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked, #2)

A rack of bottles that appeared to be expensive spirits filled one wall in the leisure chamber. I ran a finger over the cool glass, peering into each one. Different petals and crushed herbs infused the liquor inside. Bribery, no doubt. I left them unopened and continued my inspection. Every room was finely appointed, the furniture plush and welcoming, if not edged in elegance. It seemed that the demon prince was trying to impress me.

Or perhaps he was trying to apologize for the whole soul-stealing unpleasantries between us. Betrayal went down easier if it was served with fine demon liquor, personal suites in luxurious palaces, and expensive gifts. At least according to him.

Though, I suppose, he also might be showing respect to his future queen. Apparently being betrothed to Pride came with some benefits, even in a rival demon House.

I strode through the bedroom, heading for the exit I found in an antechamber. It was going to take more than decadent furnishings and pretty dresses to fix our current situation. For one, the prince might start with an apology. Then perhaps we might have an honest conversation.

I wanted to settle whatever was brewing between us before I left for my husband’s castle. I did not need any more animosity between House Wrath and myself.

I had enough to worry about as it stood.

A knock came at the door just as my hand closed around the knob. I yanked it open, ready to give Wrath hell for being such a pimpled ass.

“Oh.” I blinked at Anir. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Nice to see you again, too.”

Anir held a covered tray in one hand, and a bottle of what looked to be wine in the other. His long midnight hair was pulled into neat knot at the base of his neck and his scar gleamed silver against his tawny skin. The suit he wore now was much finer than the first time I’d met him in Palermo. I didn’t see his deadly demon blade but knew he was likely armed.

“I didn’t mean—”

“You did. And I don’t mind.” He winked. “Thought you might be hungry. Or want to get drunk.”

My attention darted into the elegant stone corridor with arches rivaling any grand cathedral. Empty. “Did your prince send you to spy on me?”

“Have some food and wine and find out. I’m a terrible gossip when I’m deep into my cups.”

I highly doubted Anir was ever impaired enough to not mind what he was saying. Wrath would never trust him if he let secrets slip after a few glasses of wine or spirits. I wrinkled my nose at the bottle. “Isn’t it a bit early for drinking?”

“It’s well into evening. You slept most of the day.”

I swept my arm in welcome and closed the door behind him. Anir set the tray and bottle on the glass table in the corner and tugged the lid off with a grand flourish. Fruits, cured meats, hard cheese, marinated olives, and crostini were laid out with expert care.

I stared emotionlessly at the spread.

“Wrath acted like human food wasn’t something he was exposed to. Another lie?”

“No.” Anir pulled two glasses from a little mirrored cabinet near the table and poured us each a generous amount of wine. “I stock up on supplies from the human world whenever I can. Mostly hard cheese and cured meat and various nuts and wheats and rice. Things that can be easily stored or dried.” He handed over my glass of wine. “His highness made sure I brought these items back. He thought you might want something that reminded you of home tonight. Now that you’re not near death and can enjoy it.”

I accepted the glass and sniffed it. “Red wine, or demon wine?”

“Regular, human red.” He clinked his glass against mine. “You’ll spot the difference when you see demon wine. It’s unmistakable.”

Letting that ominous-sounding information go, I took a sip. It had a smooth, sweet undertone to it. I drank more. “So. Human food and wine. Are you supposed to be lowering my inhibitions and gaining my trust? I imagine you’re going to pretend to be drunk, offer some innocuous information predetermined by your prince, and see what secrets I spill in return.”

“Are you always this cynical?”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned recently, it’s to question anyone connected to the demon realm. Everyone has their own agenda. Their own game. If I ask enough questions, eventually I’ll catch someone in their well-constructed lie. Though, according to the princes, they are incapable of directly telling an untruth. Another fabrication, I’m sure. Or maybe that’s why you’re here. You can lie for Wrath.”

I plucked an olive from a tiny dish and popped it into my mouth. The briny flavor was a nice counterpoint to the wine. I sampled a bit of cheese and meat and bread. Anir watched me, his expression contemplative, if not a bit sad.

“I just haven’t quite worked out what else he could possibly want from me now. He won.”

Anir swirled his wine. “What, exactly, do you think he’s won?”

“His freedom. His grand deception. Making me look like a fool for trusting him when he said we’d work together.” I finished off my glass and poured a second. Before I took a sip, I ate another olive. “Why don’t you explain demon politics to me so I can figure out what else he’s gained by signing my soul to the devil.”

“Is that what he told you?”

“I…” I thought back to the night we’d kissed, when I’d repeated what I’d heard from Envy. I couldn’t recall what Wrath said, exactly, but… “He didn’t deny the accusation. If he wasn’t worried about being caught in a lie, why wouldn’t he tell me otherwise?”

“Acta non verba.” Anir grinned. “He lives by that principle.”

Actions, not words. I clamped my mouth shut. Wrath brought me to the underworld. He came bearing a contract with Pride. It was a fairly large, undeniable action. He didn’t have to say a thing. I got his message, and it was as loud and clear as a cloudless summer sky. Wrath had no qualms about using me for his gain. He’d once said he’d lie, cheat, steal, or murder to procure his freedom. I was lucky he’d only deceived me, though that was hardly a consolation.