Wrath seemed on the verge of saying something else but changed his mind at the last moment. Now my heartbeat quickened. “Uncomfortable how?”
“Anything unusual. No matter how small or seemingly innocuous.”
I was about to tell him of the tingling sensation, but it faded into nothing before the words could form on my tongue. Perhaps it was only nerves getting the better of me. I’d traveled to the underworld with one of the Wicked, made a blood bargain with the devil, and was seconds away from meeting the Prince of Wrath’s scheming court of demons.
Not to mention, I’d just been thoroughly ravished by someone who was not my intended and my lips were probably swollen in accusation. While my emotional feelings for Wrath were much more complex, I hadn’t disliked the kiss. In fact, it seemed to have unlocked a truth I didn’t want to examine closely. He’d asked if I could bed someone I hated, and while my mind still churned with anger over his betrayal, my body responded to his touch.
I couldn’t imagine Pride taking the news of my tryst with his brother well. Who knew if he had spies in this court, eager and ready to report back any unsavory business? While I wouldn’t mind sowing seeds of discord among the two Houses, I did not want to alienate my betrothed and ruin my chance to solve Vittoria’s murder. I had every right to be nervous. It would be odd if I wasn’t.
Wrath leaned in and skimmed his knuckles over my neck, his voice as soft as his touch. Whatever magic fueled his summoning Mark instantly calmed me. “Ready?”
I nodded. He studied my face and must have seen I was indeed primed for my introduction to House Wrath. Without warning, he spun on his heel and kicked in the doors.
He strode through them right as they crashed against the wall, his footsteps claps of thunder in the sudden silence. My breath caught. It was not at all the way I’d imagined making our grand entrance. Given his penchant for fine clothing and impeccable manners, I thought he’d be more… genteel or refined. I should know better than to assume anything about him.
A wave of smartly dressed demons dropped to their knees, their heads bowed and eyes lowered as he stalked into the room. Wrath paused several paces inside the large dining hall and waited for me to make my way to him. My steps were slow and steady, unlike my pulse.
It felt like both an eternity and only a mere second had passed before I crossed the room, gown whispering over the stone, and halted near the Prince of Wrath.
When he spoke, his voice was laced with royal command. “Rise. And bid Her Highness Emilia Maria di Carlo, your future queen, welcome.”
The goddesses must have been watching over me because I managed to swallow my shock without showing it. I subtly turned to Wrath, a question in my eyes. I had not been told about the “her highness” part. I imagined that would happen after the coronation, or whatever the demon equivalent was. The corner of his mouth twitched before his expression hardened again and he addressed the sea of curious demons in that cool, unforgiving tone.
“Remember what I said about respect. As a prince of Hell’s intended, Lady Emilia’s status has been elevated. You will only address her as ‘her highness’ or ‘my lady.’ Insult her, and you will answer to me.”
Wrath stared at one lord in particular, and I assumed it was the one Fauna said he’d already threatened. I would not want to be on the receiving end of that look—it was cold enough to cause a shudder in surrounding nobles. And they did not seem like the kind of subjects who were easily cowed.
“Consider this my final warning.”
Wrath shifted to me then, holding out his arm. I placed my hand in the crook of his arm and lifted my chin. We walked side by side to a large table set at the back of the room, and I subtly let my gaze travel across the chamber, drinking in our surroundings. A tapestry hung against the far wall, depicting a warrior angel locked in battle with demons. Severed heads rolled at his feet. Blood-splattered and milky-eyed. An interesting choice for a dining room.
I brought my attention back down from that ray of sunshine. The table we were headed to was made from a solid piece of gorgeous old wood. A garland composed of various evergreens ran down the center of its length, along with an iron candelabra with spindly arms that sat just above the greenery. Cream and gold candle tapers decorated it from end to end, giving off a comfortable flickering glow. Black earthenware plates were set before gilded chairs. And the eating utensils were also made of the same deep gold. It was pure rustic elegance. Masculine edges with unexpected bits of warmth. Perfect for a warrior prince. I liked it very much.
Wrath angled us toward the center of the table where two larger, more ornate seats were located. Not quite thrones, but close. Unlike what I’d been told of human royal courts, we would not be sitting at opposite ends of the table. We were at its center and everyone else would be fanned out around us. There were two aisles of similar yet smaller wooden tables on either side of the room, creating a path for us to walk down.
These tables didn’t have gold seats; they had matching wooden benches. All of them had an abundance of candles running their length, a fiery centerpiece for the coldest circle of Hell.
Servants I hadn’t noticed lingering near the wall stepped forward, gracefully pulling out our chairs as we made our way around the table. Wrath waited until I sat down before taking his seat. Glasses of dark wine were quickly poured and set before us.
Frozen berries bobbed to the surface, enchanting and tempting. My gaze turned to the prince. I was about to ask why no one else had moved to take their seats, but shut my mouth.
Wrath’s attention was already fixed on me, his eyes nearly glowing in the candlelight.