Kingdom of the Wicked (Kingdom of the Wicked, #1)

by Kerri Maniscalco

“Calmati! Not so fast, Vittoria,” she scolded. “You’ll have to begin again if you don’t do it correctly. Do you want to gather grave dirt alone in the dark?”

A grandmother’s love was its own sort of powerful magic.

“There are seven demon princes, but only four di Carlos should fear: Wrath, Greed, Envy, and Pride. One will crave your blood. One will capture your heart. One will steal your soul. And one will take your life.”

Man had a funny way of blaming the devil for things he didn’t like. It was strange that we were called evil when humans were the ones who enjoyed watching us burn.

Magic is a living, breathing entity; it thrives on the energy you give it. Like all forces of nature, it is neither good nor bad—it simply becomes based on the user’s intent. Feed it love and it blossoms and grows. Nourish it with hate and it will deliver hate back to you tenfold.

A good book was its own brand of magic, one I could safely indulge in without fear of getting caught by those who hunted us. I loved escaping from reality, especially during times of trouble. Stories made everything possible.

Not quite hungry, but feeling empty, hollow. I hadn’t felt like cooking or creating, and couldn’t imagine ever feeling that light and free again. Living in a world without my sister felt dark and wrong.

I took a few deep breaths, steeling myself against the next wave of tears and vowed—one way or another—to find the mysterious stranger and discover exactly who he was, what he was doing, and how he knew my sister. And if he was the person who’d stolen her from me, I’d make him pay with his own life.

An ember of anger was slowly igniting within me, reducing the person I used to be to ash.

At times my simmering rage was the only indication I was still alive.

Vengeance was now a part of me, as real and necessary as my heart or my lungs. During the day I was a dutiful daughter, but once night fell, I scoured the streets, spurred on by a singular need to set right a terrible wrong.

And I was losing what little patience I had. I’d started praying to the goddess of death and fury, making all sorts of promises if she’d help me find him.

Young women died. Life resumed. Such was the way of the world, at least according to men.

No one cared that Vittoria had been slaughtered like an animal. Some more-vicious gossips even hinted that she must have deserved it. She’d somehow asked for it by being too bold, or confident, or ungodly. If she’d only been a little quieter, or more subservient, she might have been spared. As if anyone deserved to be murdered.

In the end, the monster we feared didn’t come from Hell. He came from privilege.

He was human looking enough, but was the physical embodiment of a nightmare. Blood drinking, soul stealing, immortal creature of the night.

He looked ready to—sweet goddess of fury. His luccicare was black and gold.

I am the Prince of Wrath, general of war, and one of the feared Seven.”

She’d been right—nothing was fine. And I was starting to think it might never be again.

It was simple. I liked simple plans. It meant there was less that could potentially go wrong.

Pain was all I knew.

“There’s a point to everything, witch. We just have to figure out how it all connects.

Emotions are powerful forces. People kill for much less than greed or jealousy.”

He was like a serpent, laying in a patch of sun. Lethal, beautiful. Wholly untouchable.

“I crave power more than money, or blood, or lust. And there’s no greater power than choice. I’d lie for it. Steal, cheat, maim, and murder. If I could, I’d sell my soul again for it, witch.”

“Personal feelings about witches aside, finish the marriage bond with Emilia and secure your own House before war comes. You’ll need your powers at their fullest. Whoever is organizing this must have killed Pride’s wife.”

I had more questions than answers, and no one I could fully trust.

It was peaceful, but I had no business stopping to admire the mundane world I no longer was a part of. Not that I’d ever really belonged. But before all of this, I could at least pretend.

There would still be nightmares to fight tomorrow and other battles to wage. Tonight I wanted to pretend things were normal.

Even if it was a lie. Everyone else seemed content to live in a fantasy world. They couldn’t blame me for wanting to experience that for an hour, too. And who knows? Maybe if I found a way to release some stress I’d be able to think more clearly.

I had, gripping my pursuit of justice like it was my only tether to the world. Now that my will to cling to it was gone, there was nothing left.

“My world is broken down into one simple principle: I believe I’m powerful, therefore I am. If I am convinced of my abilities, others will pick up on my confidence. It will give them pause, if only for a second, while they reevaluate a potential threat. Any advantage you can give yourself will be helpful when dealing with my brothers. Their motto will always be ‘know thy enemy.’ Make that difficult.

So to answer your question, no, you do not need a spell or charm or trinket of false protection. You need to trust in yourself and your power. Or they will torture and taunt you for eternity.”

Fear made monsters of men.

And humans loved logic, especially when it explained away the unexplainable.

“Love is the most powerful magic. Above all else, remember that. It will always guide you where you need to go.” She dropped her hands and stepped back. “Now go, bambina. Go be brave. Your heart will conquer darkness. Trust in that.”

Wrath said I had a choice—I could either be a victim or a victor. And, much as I was loath to admit it, he was right. Others would always be out there, trying to knock me down, to tell me who I was or who they thought I should be. People carved words into weapons often, but they only had power if I listened to them instead of trusting in myself.

If my enemies wanted to create doubt in me, I’d believe in my own abilities even more. Even if I had to fake it until it felt real.

“You’re wrong. We’re not born evil. Some of us become that way. Through hate.”

Death would be a kindness. And I wasn’t feeling particularly kind.

Goddess above, I could hardly breathe. I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut forever. Instead, I stared straight ahead, pulled my shoulders back, and waited for the smoke to clear. I hoped the kingdom of the wicked was ready for a vengeful queen.