TWENTY-ONE
I expected the dungeons of House Wrath to be subterranean. Unending darkness broken only by meager bits of torchlight set along desolate corridors. Stones damp with piss and other foul odors of the forgotten and damned permeating the very essence of the chambers. Screams of the tortured souls who were abominable enough to find themselves imprisoned in Hell. I’d convinced myself the wailing I’d heard out in the gardens originated from the cells.
Reality was much different.
We climbed a wide stone staircase in a tower, the air crisp and clean, while light poured in through a series of arched windows set high above. A lovely wooden door greeted us at the top. There were no guards stationed outside. No weapons trained on the murderer who was waiting—just beyond the pale stone walls—for his audience with the prince and possible princess of this House of Sin.
I gave Wrath an incredulous look. “You’ve left him unguarded?”
“The door is magicked shut. And also locks from the outside.” He placed his palm against the wood and it clicked open. “It’s spelled to open for the both of us.”
I blinked slowly. I seemed to have lost the ability to speak. Wrath either trusted me more than he let on, or he didn’t consider me a threat. It was foolish on his part to underestimate me.
I walked into the room and halted.
Antonio sat in a plush leather chair with a book and a steaming cup of tea placed on a low table next to him. A throw blanket was spread across his lap. He was in an alcove that overlooked the snowcapped mountains of the realm. An ebony river slithered through the land like a giant snake. The view was breathtaking, and the room was far better than the dormitory of the holy brotherhood. This prison cell was the height of cozy comfort.
I wasn’t certain I was breathing.
Antonio glanced up at our arrival, his brown eyes warm and friendly. Gone was the previous hatred he’d gazed upon me with. The disgust.
“Emilia. You came.”
An overwhelming wave of anger washed over me at the sight of his smile. The soft tone of his voice. Here was the human blade who had killed my twin, lounging with a book and a warm drink. As if he was on a lovely respite from the holy brotherhood instead of suffering for his crimes. Wrath had been wise after all, keeping his location secret from me.
I was halfway across the room before Wrath’s arms circled my waist and lifted me in the air. His touch did little to soothe the fire in my veins.
I kicked out, trying to land a blow on the despicable human.
“Drop me at once! I’m going to murder him!”
Wrath held me against his body without giving any quarter. I bucked against him, wild with fury that was spiraling beyond control. In the back of my mind, I knew my reaction was extreme, but I had lost the ability to see reason.
All I could see was red.
The red of anger and the crimson of my twin’s blood, puddled on the hard ground. Staining my hands as I slipped over it and lost any remaining sense of peace I’d know. Now I would take from him until he had nothing left. Until he met Vittoria’s same fate. I’d rip his damned heart from his chest with my teeth if I had to.
Antonio dropped the book and pressed himself deep into the chair, his eyes wide. The only thing standing between him and a vicious attack was the demon. Irony was located in there.
“Do you recall what I said about your anger, my lady?”
The prince’s low voice held a hint of teasing that doused the blazing inferno of rage. The fight left my body, only to be replaced by a different sort of tension.
Without letting me go, Wrath maneuvered us out into the corridor and kicked the door shut behind us. He carefully set me on my feet, my back against the cool stone, his arms casually placed on either side of my body.
A glimmer of amusement shone in his eyes as I leveled a glare at him.
“Master your temper, or we’ll attempt this again tomorrow.”
“This was a test.”
“You’re failing miserably.”
Like he surmised I would. I inhaled deeply through my nose, then exhaled through my mouth. Just as he’d done the night we fought over the enchanted skulls. I repeated the exercise twice more before my emotions settled. “I’m calm now.”
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “I find it fascinating that you continue to lie to my face, knowing full well I can sense each untruth. Rage makes for messy battle strategies. If you cannot control your fury, you risk getting hurt.”
“Fine. I’m calmer. Though not for long if you keep poking at me.”
“That creates quite the mental imagery.”
And just as he’d intended, I was suddenly no longer thinking of murder, anger, or rage. A new pulse pounded through me that had little to do with my heart. My attention dropped to his wicked lips, noting the tantalizing curve of them. He hadn’t used an ounce of magic or influence. This lust-filled emotion belonged only to me. And this realm and our provocative marriage bond.
Or maybe he wasn’t the only one whose anger swiftly turned into passion.
Maybe it was an aphrodisiac for me, too. “You’re wholly inappropriate.”
“Lie.” Wrath moved slowly, placing his body flush against mine. The physical contact was a welcome distraction from the anger still simmering inside me. I focused on the demon, on the heat not originating in fury. “I am your intended. And a living embodiment of sin, as you once called me. A certain amount of inappropriate behavior should be expected. Especially when the future princess of House Wrath is so appealing.”
“You are a heathen. I just tried to murder a man.”
“Precisely.” He pressed his lips to my cheek. “Are you ready to try again?”
“To murder him?”
“I suggest talking, but you are free, as always, to choose your path.”
“Murder, or at least a good thrashing, then.”
“Try.” Challenge rang in the single word. “We’ll just end up out here again.”
As if that was a deterrent. “You trust me?”
“It’s more important for you to trust yourself.” He pushed back from the wall. “Only you can decide how to move forward. What would you like to do?”
Dangerous question. I would like to open the murderer from gut to gullet and watch his stinking, steaming entrails spill across the floor. That answer wouldn’t get me back inside. And, no matter how I’d felt moments before, I did not want to become someone I could no longer respect. Murdering a man, even one who’d violently killed my twin, would only put me on his level. Which was why Wrath had made me take the dagger to him the other night.
I knew how it felt, hurting someone. Blood would not stain my hands. Today.
Wrath waited silently, giving me time and space to decide my next move. His expression was perfectly bland, offering no judgment. No hint to his inner thoughts.
I rolled my shoulders, releasing the tension. “I’m ready to ask him about my sister.”
“Emilia.” Antonio jumped to his feet. “It’s good to see you.”
His tone indicated what he actually meant was “It’s good to see you no longer snarling and kicking like a rabid beast trying to rip out my throat.”
This meeting was young, though. There was still time for snarling and snapping. The leash I’d put on myself was already slipping. I did not return his tentative smile. Just because I’d decided against gutting him did not mean we would ever be friends again.