A second later the metallic scent hit my throat. Blood. Blood was now splattered across the evergreen garland on the table, across me. My attention fell to the source of gore.
On the place set before the vile lord sat a severed, impaled tongue.
I stared down at my dinner knife, unblinking, unsure if I’d attacked him. Then I noticed Wrath’s House dagger. It still vibrated from the force he’d used to shove it through the plate and then that far into the table. I let out a quiet breath, unable to look away. The lavender gemstones in the snake’s eyes glowed in fury. Or maybe bloodlust.
I’d forgotten how the dagger gloried in its offerings.
“Dinner is over,” the demon prince declared, his voice dangerously low. He yanked his bloodied blade free. “Get out.”
TEN
Chairs and benches scraped across the stone floor at once. Anir was at my elbow a moment later, his grip firm but gentle as he escorted me out of the royal dining hall and up a flight of stairs hidden behind a vibrant garden tapestry.
I was so shocked, I didn’t protest. Nor did I look to see if Wrath had followed us. Perhaps he was butchering the rest of Makaden. Skewering various organs to put on pikes outside the castle, a generous offering to whatever carrion birds circled these cursed skies. Goddess above. I still heard the faint echo of the wretched lord’s howls. They chilled me to the core.
“How?” I could hardly comprehend the last sixty seconds. Wrath had moved so fast I hadn’t registered the attack until it was over. And then he’d stood there, quietly commanding everyone to leave as if he hadn’t just brutally divested someone of a body part…
I rubbed my arms; the stairwell felt unbearably cold all of a sudden.
“Watch your steps. The stones are uneven in this corridor.”
I gathered up my skirts and focused on climbing the stairs as quickly as my shoes and gown allowed. My shock was incrementally giving way to a different emotion altogether. One that surprised me as much as the sudden burst of violence. My grip tightened almost painfully on my gown, as if I was now strangling the material.
Anir led us up flight after flight, occasionally tossing glances over his shoulder, his free hand resting on the hilt of his blade. I couldn’t imagine anyone being brave or stupid enough to follow us, especially after the blood-soaked scene we escaped from.
Wrath exploded from an insinuation. If someone tried physical harm or assault, a swift death would be a kindness. And there had been no hint of kindness in the demon prince’s face.
Only cold fury.
Which was much worse. A hot temper eventually burned out, but the ice that coated the prince’s features was glacial. Centuries would pass and his anger would remain fresh.
We exited through a hidden panel at the top of the stairs and a slight tingling sensation passed over me. Anir didn’t speak again until we stood outside the door to my suite.
Even there his sharp gaze swept around the empty corridor as if he expected trouble to materialize. I did not share his concern. My private rooms were near the end of this wing and there was only one other set of doors here. Regardless if Makaden had allies, furious demons driven wild with the sin of their chosen House, Wrath would eliminate them with nary a thought.
If my anger was an aphrodisiac to him, his court’s anger likely nourished and fed his power in droves. Wrath thrived on fury in every sense of the word.
I glanced down the opposite end of the corridor; an ornate iron gate had dropped from the ceiling, locking out anyone who tried to enter this section. My jaw ached from how hard I now clenched it. Being caged in didn’t thrill me, but at least there was another exit in the secret panel if I wanted to leave. One that was magically warded, if the tingling sensation was any indication. Wrath had used the same magic back in my realm to protect me from his brothers.
The fact that he’d taken precautions in his own royal House wasn’t comforting, but I trusted that no one would slip past his wards.
“Makaden had that coming for decades.”
I pulled my attention to Anir. “I imagine he did.”
“Then why…” His voice trailed off as he really looked me over. “You’re angry.”
Wrong. I was furious. It was a wonder steam wasn’t billowing out of my ears.
If I could not handle repugnant creatures like Lord Makaden on my own, I would never gain the respect of this court or any other.
Wrath ought to count his demonic blessings he wasn’t the one standing here with me now. I’d take his precious blade to his throat, tear the clothes from my person and bathe in his warm blood as I slit him ear to ear.
The unexpected pleasure I felt, thinking such a dark, wicked thing yanked me back to my senses. While the flames of my fury banked, the embers of rage remained. I was not nearly as horrified as I should have been by my almost literal bloodlust.
Anir’s mouth twisted up on one side. He must have read the promise of murder flashing in my eyes and found it amusing. He was wise enough not to laugh.
“His private chambers are at the end of this hall. Give him ten minutes, I’m sure he’ll be there by then.”
I was too angry to show my surprise. Of course Wrath placed me close to him. He was keeping a careful watch on his brother’s fiancée. Ever the dutiful soldier. Except for when he’d kissed me before dinner. I doubted that was part of his orders. Though, knowing him, maybe it was another twisted scheme he’d dreamed up to keep me preoccupied and not causing trouble.
I spun on my heel and slammed the door to my suite behind me.
I passed the time by removing Makaden’s blood and gore from my body. I sat at the vanity in my bathing chamber, dipping a linen towel into the crystal washbasin, turning the water there a pinkish red. I dabbed at the remaining dampness while staring at the silent woman in the mirror. I couldn’t find any hint of the girl I’d been before my sister’s murder.
That Emilia had perished in the room with my twin, had had her heart ripped from her, too, and it didn’t appear as if she’d ever return. No matter how hard I fought, who I deceived, or how much of my soul I bargained away, nothing would ever bring my sister back. Even if I succeeded in destroying those who’d hurt Vittoria, I could see no way of ever happily returning to that simple, quiet life. The one where I was most content with my books and recipes.
This new reality felt strange, but fitting. It was a life where I didn’t cringe at violence, only seethed that the punishment that had been dealt was taken from my eager hands. I wondered at death, at the ones we lost and how their loss stole something vital from us in return.
A tear slid down my cheek as I set aside the bloodstained towel.
“Enough,” I said, quietly, forcefully to myself as I stood. I planted my hands on the vanity top and leaned in, glaring at my reflection. “Enough.”
There was no longer any room for sadness or grief in my world. In my heart.
I focused intently on that anger, that spark in my core close to my magic’s source. It was as if a lava pit were bubbling inside me, ready to erupt. I’d never felt my power so strongly and realized it wouldn’t take much to harness it. All I had to do was reach in and grab it.
I concentrated on my magic, imagined pulling it from wherever it originated and turning it into a handful of flame. Instead of fighting myself and forcing it to come, I let go.