I’d never seen the front exterior of House Wrath. When I’d first arrived, it had been delirious in Wrath’s arms, and we’d entered through a mountain. His castle was massive, with a gate house, turrets, towers, and an enormous wall that spanned the entire perimeter. Pale stone with black tiled roofing. It was a magnificent study in contrasts.
Vines, frozen solid, clung to the walls.
We passed through the gates and rolled to a stop in a half-circular drive. The emissary waited for a footman to open the coach and then accepted his assistance out. She left without a backward glance, her duty to collect the wayward fiancée done.
I stared after her, wondering why she’d been so cold and if I’d done something to offend her. I knew I hadn’t. Aside from my surprise at seeing her instead of Wrath, I’d been friendly.
An uncomfortable suspicion slithered in about her relationship with Wrath, but I shoved it aside. I refused to let it matter.
The footman handed me down and I took my time walking up the stone stairs to the front door. To my right, tucked near the wall, was a garden hidden within a hedge. I made a mental note to visit it once the weather warmed.
If the weather ever warmed. As if on cue, snow began lightly falling, dusting the castle in a fine layer of shimmering flakes.
I hurried inside and brushed off my traveling cloak. Aside from the footman, who was seeing to my trunk, there were no servants waiting to tend to me, for which I was relieved.
I made it back to my bedroom suite without running into anyone. No servants cleaning the castle or its many rooms. No Fauna or Anir or Wrath. I was immensely grateful I didn’t see any of the other noble occupants, like the now tongueless Lord Makaden or overly talkative Lady Arcaline.
As the afternoon wore on, I grew restless, though. I was not used to having so much idle time. Back home I was always in the trattoria, or working on my craft in our home kitchen, or reading when I wasn’t falling into bed, bone tired from a hard day’s work. I was also rarely alone—my family was always there, laughing and talking and warm. Other nights I’d comb the beach with my sister and Claudia, sharing secrets and our hopes and dreams.
Until my twin was murdered. Then my world irrevocably changed.
Unable to bear the morbid twist of my thoughts, I marched down to Wrath’s suite and knocked. No answer. I considered testing to see if the door was locked but refrained. When I’d intruded on him after his violent outburst at dinner I’d had a valid excuse.
I trudged back to my room and decided to work on finding Source again. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the inner well of magic. A few seconds later, I tunneled down into my center, then crashed. It felt as if I’d collided with a brick wall.
I tried to muster up the energy to locate it again, but I was more exhausted than I’d thought. I’d spent the better part of last night awake in bed, fearful of Envy returning in a rage. And the previous night I’d barely slept because of Wrath’s confession. I imagined to harness Source I needed to be well rested. And I was anything but.
I pulled out the journal on House Pride I’d borrowed from Wrath’s library and slowly flipped through each page in hopes of something being written in a language I knew.
My efforts were wasted. There weren’t even drawings or illustrations for me to decipher. It was just page after page of small, handwritten notes in what might be demon script. My attention kept straying to my trunk, to the object I’d smuggled from Envy inside it.
I didn’t want to remove it from its hiding place just yet. I had a feeling someone might come looking for it soon enough. I couldn’t believe it had been so easy to snatch. Too easy, really. Part of me expected alarms to sound and Umbra demons and vampires to swarm in the moment I’d lifted the spell book from its case. Nothing happened. I’d simply walked to my room, sewn it into the inside of my trunk, and waited for a reckoning that never came.
I turned back to the here and now, flipping through the next few pages. I refocused on Pride’s House journal, the squiggly lines blurring together.
I woke up several hours later, my face pressed against the open journal.
It was not my kind of book, obviously. A romance novel would have kept me up into the wee hours of the morning, never quite turning the pages fast enough while also trying desperately to savor each tension-filled interaction between the hero and heroine.
I adored how they more often than not despised each other, and how that spark of disdain flamed into something else entirely.
Real life certainly wasn’t anything close to a romance novel, but there was still a small part of the old me left that hoped for a happy ending. There was no denying a spark existed between me and Wrath—along with plenty of disdain—but the likelihood of it turning into love was the true fantasy.
I combed my hair and went to check Wrath’s rooms again. The demon was still out. Or he wasn’t bothering to answer his door. I stood there, hand falling to my side. It was possible he was upset by my dismissal of him at Envy’s. But something about that didn’t feel right.
He’d been by my side for months in the human world, and then for nearly two weeks here. If he did have a lover, he might have stolen away to visit her. I doubted he would have expected me to return so quickly. I ought to rejoice in the solitude. I had no one looking over my shoulder, no lust-fueled urges toward completing a marriage bond. No distractions. And yet… and yet I didn’t want to think about why I was gripped with unease.
I called for dinner and ate in my rooms, thinking about Envy’s conversation and all I’d learned. Specifically, the truth spell used on wine and what it might mean for the rest of my mission. The magic worked on a prince of Hell. And while I hadn’t noticed anything different about our beverage, it didn’t mean a prince wouldn’t sense the otherness. Envy had known what was coming, so I couldn’t use him as any means of judging.
What I wanted was to test a theory. And I needed Wrath. If I could spell his wine without him knowing, I might find it to be a useful skill to employ at the Feast of the Wolf. All of the princes would be in attendance. I could whisper the spell over our toast and find out who was responsible for Vittoria’s death without anyone being the wiser.
If Wrath couldn’t sense the spell. That plan only worked if the test was successful.
I told myself that was the main reason I’d been pacing the corridor outside his rooms the next morning. Listening for any sign of his return. Surely it had nothing to do with missing him. Or growing suspicions of where he’d gone, and who he might be with. Which was nonsense that belonged to House Envy. Maybe those were simply residual jealous emotions left over from my visit to that House of Sin. If such things even occurred.
Two more days passed and still no word from the prince of the House. I had tried a few more times to summon the source of my magic but was met with that same resistance. There was no information on it in the grimoire, so I had to wait it out. Eventually I’d master dipping into that well. I spent my time in the library, searching for new fables. I was interested in learning more about the Curse Tree, especially the line that claimed it granted more than wishes.
I also searched for any books on the Temptation Key or the Triple Moon Mirror. Thus far my efforts were all in vain. Finally, when I thought I’d go mad, a knock sounded at my door.
“Hello, Lady Em.” Anir grinned. “I’m here to bring you on an adventure.”