Anir’s attention slid to me. “He’s asking for Emilia.”
“Antonio?” I stepped away from Wrath, heart thundering. “He’s here?”
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. S
creams 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.”