At first I’d been worried my greatest fear was my secret mission of vengeance being revealed. Now it could be my fear about the creature wailing below the statue, my family dying at the hands of our enemies, my magic never returning, or the possibility that my memories had been stolen and the life I’d been living was all a lie.
The biggest fear of all kept circling like a portent of death and doom.
I couldn’t stop thinking that I was the devil’s bride and I hadn’t been murdered—I’d been cursed to forget. My palms dampened. There was no possible way that was true.
Still, the thought haunted me the entire time I prepared for tonight’s opening event. True or not, if I couldn’t shove the fear aside; it would be revealed to each of my enemies and their subjects. Not only would it be humiliating, it would indicate I had not left the past behind when I’d sold my soul and was actively working to destroy one of them.
If the demon princes were suspicious of my motivations for coming here before, they’d have those thoughts confirmed. And I didn’t want to know what they’d do for retribution.
I descended the stairs, shoulders back, head held high. I’d been expecting to see Fauna and Anir. Instead the Prince of Wrath waited, dressed to devastate, his attention riveted to mine. I hadn’t chosen to wear one of his signature House colors. Not that he seemed put off by the crushed red velvet gown, or the way it clung to my curves before pooling around my feet.
In fact, I almost missed a step when I noticed the color of his shirt. A deep, enticing cranberry peeked out from the layers of black waistcoat and swallowtail suit jacket. Either Harlow or the seamstress must have given him information on my attire.
I reached the bottom step and slowly pivoted in place. My shoes were the same snake design from a few nights before, but these were deep gold instead of black. It was the one tribute I made to my current House of Sin. Regardless of if any of my theories were correct, in this reality, in this version of myself, this was where I felt comfortable. There was no use denying that I aligned with the sin of wrath more than any other.
“Well?” I prompted. “How do I look?”
Wrath’s gaze darkened into a shadow of sinful promise. “I suspect you know.”
“Indulge me, then.”
“Trouble incarnate.”
“Mighty praise coming from one of the Wicked.” I glanced around the empty foyer. Silence stretched between us, which didn’t help to soothe my growing nerves. The more I tried not to focus on my theories, the more they haunted me. “Where are Fauna and Anir?”
“By now they’re nearly at Gluttony’s already.”
“Who else will be joining us?”
“No one.” He held out his arm for me. I wondered if he knew he also looked like trouble. And temptation. But if Pride was the man from my vision, Wrath might also look like a fond memory before the night was through. Something pinched in my center at the thought. “Tonight we’ll use my carriage. It’s considered rude to arrive at the Feast by transvenio magic.”
I accepted his arm and we made our way out of the looming set of double doors.
Outside, our conveyance sat waiting, bits of snow sticking to the roof like powdered sugar. Wrath’s carriage was darker than the night with flecks of gold in the lacquered finish. There was no driver waiting, only horses.
“Will you be driving the carriage?”
“No. My power will guide it.”
“Transvenio magic is rude, but steering a carriage with magic is not?” I shook my head. “I may live a thousand years and will never understand these ridiculous demon rules.”
The four ebony steeds snuffed the air, their red eyes the only mark that they were not quite the same as horses in the mortal world. Wrath set about checking their bridles, tsking a little when one of the hell horses nibbled at him.
I drew in a quick breath. I’d been wrong. Their eyes weren’t the only thing that marked them as different. Their gleaming, metal teeth indicated they were more predator than simple equine. The hell horse nipped again, more insistently.
“Gentle, Death.”
“Goddess give me strength.” I eyed the three other beasts. “Famine, Pestilence, and War, I presume.” Wrath’s grin was confirmation enough as he glanced over his shoulder. “I cannot believe you named them after the four horsemen, and yet I’m not terribly surprised.”
He strolled over to where I waited, then handed me up into the carriage. “Perhaps they aren’t merely named after them.”
Wrath settled onto the plush velvet bench seat across from me, his expression smug as I let that information sink in. With a quick rap on the ceiling, we were off.
The wheels clattered across the stone, but the sound and jarring feeling was muffled by the well-stuffed seating and plush, layered carpets. I’d never ridden inside such an opulent conveyance. I’d never ridden in a shabby one, either. Before my ride with the emissary, the closest I’d ever come to traveling via carriage was a horse-drawn buggy.
I drew my brows together. That couldn’t be correct… after disembarking from a ship, we had to travel by carriage to visit Nonna’s friend in northern Italy. Except I couldn’t quite remember how we’d gotten there.
Wrath studied me. “You appear as if you’re in the midst of a vexing riddle.”
I lifted a shoulder. “I suppose it’s mostly nerves.”
“About the fear portion of the festival?”
“The fear, the whole ordeal. Meeting the rest of your brothers. Dancing.”
He was silent for a while. I doubted he’d expected such honesty and was unsure of how to proceed. Finally, he shifted forward. “No harm will befall you. I will not allow it.”
“Perhaps it’s your brothers you should be concerned for.”
“If they are stupid enough to ignite your fury, they deserve to feel the burn.”
I smiled at him. “And yet you still toss matches onto the kerosene all the time.”
“Wrath and fury are my sins of choice. I like your temper.”