“Without further ado, if there are no objections, we will release the biggest fear from our guest.” The master of ceremonies held out a hand to me. “Lady Emilia. If you will be so kind as to offer your wrist. I must take a bit of blood for the magic to work.”
Panic thrummed in each of my cells. I could barely see past the little white spots floating across my vision as I slowly lifted my arm. All our lives Nonna Maria wanted us to keep our blood from our enemies. And here I stood, offering it freely. To a blade etched with magical runes that would steal my secrets.
I held my arm steady, fighting the urge to yank it back and flee.
To his credit, the master of ceremonies did not radiate joy or triumph. He offered a sympathetic look and whispered, “One tiny pinch and it will be over shortly.”
The blade felt like ice against my skin. Panic seized me. This was really happening. I squeezed my eyes shut, silently praying to the goddesses for this to—
“Stop.” The deep voice echoed. “I will be the one to sacrifice a secret of the heart.”
The metal disappeared from my skin at once. I opened my eyes, looking from the master of ceremonies to the crowd. As one, the audience turned, staring with open shock at the demon who’d spoken. I followed their stares until I found him.
Wrath stood with his arms crossed, his attention fixed on me.
“With all due respect, your majesty, you cannot substitute yourself…”
“I won the hunt. I am claiming it as my prize.”
The master of ceremonies shook his head as if carefully considering his phrasing. “I… I do not believe it can be completed without great cost to you.”
“I am well aware of the price.”
I watched in disbelief as Wrath made his way down the aisle and up the stairs of the dais. Was he afraid my biggest fear would have worse repercussions than revealing his truth? Wrath trained me to withstand demonic influence, but he’d never seemed concerned about this portion of the feast. Had he always known he’d stand in for me?
He was scheming, but I had no clue what his goal was.
Without taking his gaze from mine, he slipped out of his suit jacket and rolled back the sleeve of his left arm. At the sight of our matching tattoos, a murmur went up in the crowd. Apparently not everyone knew our betrothal had been forced.
For them, it was one thing to woo a prince, and apparently another to magically bind him into matrimony. Perhaps they worried his unexpected show of heroics was brought on by a magic spell. The master of ceremonies stared openmouthed at the demon prince. I doubted this prince had ever offered something like this before. Even I couldn’t believe it. Wrath, the demon who valued his secrets more than anyone I knew, was offering one up.
For me. In front of every enemy court. It was not a declaration of love, but it was close.
Wrath finally tore his attention from me. “Get the dagger.”
“I…” The master of ceremonies fumbled for the blade, clearly uncomfortable with carving into one of the rulers of Hell. “Before we begin, there is still the matter of needing your brothers to vote on this being your prize.”
“Oh, for shit’s sake. Enough.” Pride shot up from where he’d been slumped against a column, his silver eyes narrowing in warning. “This is incredibly dull. Surely there is some other more diverting prize to be claimed? I find secrets tiresome.” He stared at his brother in challenge. “Perhaps this year’s sacrifice will come in the form of a forbidden tryst. I’m sure we can find a volunteer willing to bed the guest of honor. Then my brother may pick a different prize.”
The assembled demons subtly looked from Wrath to their king, their breath held.
“No.”
Wrath’s tone was cold enough to rival ice. He glanced to me, probably to see if I’d been intrigued by the idea and he’d spoken too quickly. I imagined if I said yes, he’d stand back and not utter a word of protest if I chose to bed Pride. No matter how much he’d hate it.
And hate it he would. Wrath’s mask of indifference had slipped and he hadn’t put it back.
“There seems to be a misunderstanding.” The devil’s smile was sinful as Wrath cast a wary glance his way. Pride was practically preening, pleased he’d laid the perfect bait and Wrath had fallen into his true trap. “I did not mean to suggest I would be offering services. As Lady Emilia is your intended, I believe you ought to be the one to bed her, brother.”
I stiffened. If Wrath and I shared a bed…
… we’d be that much closer to completing our marriage bond. And Pride knew it. He looked undisturbed by the idea; if anything, he seemed eager for me to marry his brother. Which indicated he never cared about the contract I signed and I’d never been his intended. So what in the seven hells was really going on? If the devil’s curse had been broken by Vittoria’s and my birth, I still couldn’t understand why the demons had lied about the brides.
Envy, who’d been glowering at the interruption, suddenly perked up.
Wrath looked to me then, his expression blank except for the slight tightness around his mouth. It was the only indication he wasn’t happy with the turn of events.
Whatever he saw in my face had his tone going hard when he addressed his brother again. “Pick another option or stand back and let’s vote to complete the ceremony.”
“I told you,” Pride drawled, “I’ve grown quite bored of secrets. It’s time for a new tradition. I’m sure our host is willing to oblige.”
Pride nodded to Gluttony. The prince of this circle rubbed his hands together. “Indeed. I do love breaking the rules. You have two choices. Either bed each other in one of the glass chambers here.” He stood aside and with a grand flourish, yanked a gold cord that held draperies back. Inside, an unoccupied candlelit bedroom softly glowed. “Or—”
“Your royal suite,” I offered, stunning everyone, myself most of all.