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Gluttony noted our arrival and clapped his hands once, smoothly drawing the assembled partygoers’ attention. “Everyone, please, go into the dining room and take your seats. The feast is about to begin.”

Wrath led me to our places, and I was happy to see Fauna had been assigned the seat next to mine. Anir was across from her, and that was where my good fortune ended. Lady Sundra glided in, radiant like sunshine, her expression turning stormy when she spied me.

“Lady Sundra.”

Her jaw tightened, and I immediately realized the unintentional trap I’d set for her. With Wrath present, I’d forced her into using my title. “Lady Emilia.”

Envy swept into the room and sank into the chair opposite Wrath—and beside a still-glowering Lady Sundra—with a knowing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Before he could taunt me with whatever was brewing in his gaze, a chef strode into the room. “Good evening, lords, ladies, and princes of the underworld. Tonight’s menu theme is Fire and Ice. Each m

ortal land’s dish will represent the chosen elements in some form or another. Our first course is a frisée salad that features ice. You’ll see why shortly.”

An army of servants carried out individual plates and set them before each guest at the same time. Worries over Lady Sundra vanished. I could not tear my attention from the dish. Greens were placed in a circle on a wooden slab, resembling a bird’s nest plucked from a tree.

Sprinkled around the greens were bits of cheese and crushed pecans. In the center was a ruby-colored egg-shaped form filled partially with liquid. It was not simply a salad—it was a work of art, of passion. Creative genius on a level I’d never encountered.

I was happy to see I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t picked up a utensil yet, not quite ready to disturb the edible sculpture.

“A frozen strawberry vinaigrette.” The Prince of Gluttony tapped the faux egg, cracking it and spilling the dressing. He tossed the bits of cheese and crushed nuts into the leafy greens, mixing it all with the dressing. Everyone followed suit, their excited chatter filling the large dining chamber.

Wrath watched me, the corners of his mouth twitching as I cracked my vinaigrette egg and marveled at the dish. “You’re having a terrible time, I see.”

“Dreadful.” Despite the intrusive attention I felt coming from the opposite side of the table, I returned his grin. “It’s almost too pretty to eat.”

Finely cut bits of mint, shaved red onion, and fennel paired exquisitely with the bitter greens. Once our plates were cleaned, the waitstaff quickly disposed of them, making way for our next culinary delight. As if he were a maestro and the food the orchestra he was conducting, the chef reappeared, proudly announcing his next dish.

“Our second course for you this evening features fire. The ‘candle’ is made from bacon fat. As it slowly burns it will create a sauce for you to dip your scallops and shaved, charred parmesan brussels sprouts in.”

Waiters leaned in, lighting the bacon candles in unison. Gluttony encouraged everyone to sip from their wine and watch the candles melt. Bored with the theatrics, Envy turned to the male demon seated beside him. “Any word on the Stars of Seven?”

“Nothing new, your highness. All indications lead to the forest.”

Wrath’s attention slid to his brother. He carefully sipped his wine. “Chasing fairy tales again?”

“I wonder, dear brother, when I become the most powerful, will you still taunt me?” Envy’s smile was vicious. “Or will you bow down to your new king?”

Lady Sundra subtly glanced at the prince next to her, her gaze calculating.

I pressed my lips together, trying to keep the questions from spilling out. Anir leaned across the table, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “Power is currency here. Mortals accumulate wealth; our royals do the same with magic.”

“Can the princes of Hell be dethroned by lesser demons?”

“No. They always rule their circles. It’s basically a test of who holds the most power amongst them. Sibling rivalry, if you will.”

“So the devil is a title that can be passed to different rulers.”

The princes near us stiffened, but Anir paid them little attention. “Not always. It more or less influences different eras on Earth. You can see through the ages which of the seven princes held the most power and influence based on the mortal world. Wars, greed, sexual awakenings. And yet,” his whisper was anything but soft, “I cannot seem to recall an era of envy.”

Envy slammed his wineglass onto the table. “Mind your tongue, mortal.”

“Or else…”

Before they came to blows, the chef reappeared, his voice carrying over the chamber. “The third course is our most interactive. I ask that you place the slices of raw, marinated beef over the coals and quickly sear them on each side. Once the meat comes off the coals, sprinkle the frozen bleu cheese crumble across the strips.”

Wrath shifted on my right, drawing my attention. He was focused on the door, where Greed had just walked in and bowed politely. He was in a bronze suit, his hair and eyes matching the exact shade of the metal he seemed born of. There was still that sense of wrongness in his sharp gaze, as if he were not quite as accustomed to the pageantry as his brothers were.

He gave Wrath a small nod before taking a seat at the opposite end of the table. “Apologies for tardiness. Do not stop the feast on my account.”


Tags: Kerri Maniscalco Kingdom of the Wicked Fantasy