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

Everything faded into shadows. It was as if he and I were the only two in the room, the whole realm, and I couldn’t stop my thoughts from returning to their earlier, scandalous vision of him making love to me until I saw stars. Just as the rakish heroes in my favorite romance novels promised to do to the objects of their affection and lust.

Ridiculous realm and its sinful inclinations. Of all the times for it to work its devious magic, now was the absolute worst. Though I wasn’t all that surprised. Wrath mentioned this realm sensing areas of struggle and bringing them to the forefront. I was certainly fighting inner emotions against physical longings.

Until I settled my internal war, I would likely be plagued by these urges.

I tore my focus from Wrath and shifted uncomfortably in my seat, looking to the wine. It would either help distract me or it would turn me into a feral creature, clawing at the prince’s clothes. Thinking of his clothing was a terrible mistake; it quickly led to thoughts of him without a shirt. Blood and bones, this forbidden attraction was growing worse by the minute.

Perhaps I should excuse myself to get fresh air. I glanced around, searching for a balcony or terrace. I needed to cool down immediately. After my royal introduction, there was little doubt that everyone here knew I was promised to his brother. It would hardly seem appropriate for me to be openly lusting over this prince when I was about to marry the king of demons.

Wrath leaned in, his lips almost brushing the shell of my ear and I felt him smile. His voice was low enough so only I heard him. “One word and I’ll send them away.”

Temptation flared. “Do I appear that nervous?”

“I’m fairly confident what I’m sensing has nothing to do with nerves.”

A flush crept up my neck. I had no idea he could sense… arousal. Goddess curse me. This realm would be the death of me yet. I forced my thoughts back to the reason I’d come to this world. It had not been seduction or wanting that made me sign my soul away. It was vengeance. Fury. And those emotions were more powerful than any sinful magic.

Or any sinfully alluring prince.

I placed my lips to his ear. “Are you sensing the knife I’m now considering stabbing you with, your highness?”

“If this is an attempt to change the topic, you’re failing miserably.” His hand dropped beneath the table, landing gently on my knee. There was little doubt it was a nonverbal acknowledgment of my most recent lie. “I am even more interested in where this may lead, my lady. You forget what sin I rule over. I am rather fond of a bit of knife-play.”

“Your subjects are staring at us.”

With his free hand, he picked up his wine and took a long, careful sip. He acted as if we were enjoying a drink alone together instead of being observed by the lords and ladies of Hell.

He set the goblet down and stared out at the silent, watchful crowd. “You may be seated.”

I was loath to admit it, even silently, but his touch kept my nerves at bay as the royal court all took their seats. It was hard to concentrate on fear when his long fingers stroked the thin material of my gown, drawing all of my attention to that point of contact. I imagined he was attempting to soothe me, but his touch had the opposite effect. My heart raced.

The cursed prince did not appear affected at all. My attention fell to his lap.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Emilia. You look goddesslike this evening. A true enchantress for the ages.”

Wrath’s hand tensed on my leg, before he slowly continued dragging that finger along the outer seam of my dress. I yanked my gaze from the prince. Directly across the table, standing behind his seat, a fair-haired demon grinned. It was the royal Wrath had glared at earlier. I did not return his smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. You are?”

“Lord Baylor Makaden, my lady.”

It was indeed the demon who’d made crude comments. He sat and immediately began chatting with the lords and ladies to either side of him. More pleasant nobles joined us and trays of food were promptly brought out.

Fileted meats baked in flaky pastry. Roasted root vegetables dressed in herbs. Crusty loaves of bread that smelled of intriguing spices. Serving bowls filled with dark gravy and sauces. None of the food was familiar or reminded me of home, but it wasn’t as different as I’d feared. I’d been secretly harboring worries of strange multi-eyed animals and steaming, raw offal. This was truly a delight.

Wrath removed his hand from my knee only to surprise me with carving the meat and filling my plate with a bit of everything on the table. Other lords and ladies watched from lowered lashes, some bold enough to whisper. I had a feeling this was not typical behavior for the prince. He ignored them, though he no doubt felt their attention and silent speculation.

“Would you care for extra sauce, my lady?” he asked.

I flicked my attention to him, pulse thrumming. He was definitely putting on a show, but I had no idea for whose benefit. Playing along with his scheme, I shook my head. “No, thank you, your highness.”

My use of his title seemed to please him, though I doubted the almost imperceptible curve of his lips was noticeable to anyone else. After he tended to my plate, he heaped generous portions onto his own, then struck up a conversation with the lord to his left.

This was the version I’d expected earlier, the prince with exemplary manners. Not the barbarian who’d kicked in doors. Though both aspects of him were intriguing. Goddess help me. I had no business finding him intriguing or attractive at all.

I politely listened to the noblewoman beside me as she complained of her lady’s maid, then of her sour stomach, and of the bug-eaten tapestry in her receiving hall.