I forgot about the hunt, the Feast of the Wolf, and all of the demons riding close by. I had no idea where I was going, but something called to me, deep in my blood. It screamed at me to remember, to let go of thoughts and simply feel.
Tanzie neighed as if confirming those feelings. As if she’d wanted me to recall this was what we’d been created for. This feeling of ultimate freedom and shucking restraints away. All that mattered was the ground we hurtled over and the blood pumping in our veins.
As we crested a massive hill, a field of black rose like an ink stain across the snow. I drew us to a slow trot and led Tanzie closer to the shimmering hill. Up close, I saw that the dark mass wasn’t solid. It was millions of tiny black flowers growing through the ice. I brought Tanzie to a stop and jumped down. The ebony petals had silver dots on them.
Intrigued, I plucked one, surprised when the whole root slipped out easily. The odd silver roots glimmered brightly, then dried up before my eyes. Magic or some peculiar hell plant. I wanted to study them later and see what else they could do. I grabbed a handful of flowers and tucked them into a small leather pouch fastened on the saddle.
Tanzie neighed, stomping imperiously, signaling her boredom with our diversion of flower picking. Without looking back at the undulating field, I hopped back onto the horse, and we rode even harder than before. I was so caught up in the sensory aspect of the ride, of the exaltation of the icy air nipping at my skin and stealing my breath, that I didn’t notice the castle towering before us. Nor was I aware that we’d crossed some invisible boundary line.
It was only when the first round of guards circled us, swords aimed and ready, shouting for me to halt, that I realized my error. I’d invaded another demon prince’s domain without invitation. Tanzie reared back, then dropped to the ground, stamping her feet as one guard silenced the others and called out a clear command to me.
“Dismount and drop to your knees.”
“There seems to be a misunderstanding.” I held tight to the reins. “I was riding at House Gluttony and didn’t realize I’d come so far.”
“I said, dismount and drop to your knees.”
The guard who’d spoken stepped from the formation. His open-faced iron helmet had deadly-looking wings on either side. Across the top band, where the helmet molded over his forehead, a set of gold claw marks were etched onto the metal.
I noted none of the other guards shared that design, making him the obvious leader of their group. Another line of guards appeared from the castle, arrows nocked in their bows.
I paid them little mind, focusing instead on the biggest threat.
My gaze slid over the lead guard’s features, committing them to memory should things go wrong and I needed to recall details upon my escape. Burnished gold hair peeked out from the upper portion of his helmet. His sun-kissed skin was free from all but one imperfection: a pale silver scar that diagonally cut across a pair of arrogant lips.
I couldn’t make out the color of his eyes from where I sat, but the hardness in them would never be forgotten. Tanzie snuffed the air, dancing back as the other guards took another step forward, closing their ranks. If I dismounted now, I would certainly regret it.
I sat taller, donning my most commanding tone. “I demand to speak with the prince of this House. There has been a mistake.”
“Dismount before my sword finds its way into your gut.”
“Touch me, and I promise you will feel more than my wrath.” The smile that tugged at my lips was as vicious as his weapon. “It might be worth the pain just to watch the Prince of Wrath carve you apart. I doubt he’ll go easy on anyone who harms his princess.”
Surprise flickered in his gaze before he schooled his features.
“Forgive me, but I do not recall receiving word that you were invited onto our lands.” He stepped closer, lining his blade up with my heart. “Which grants me permission to remove the threat to our territory as I see fit. Now get off the fucking horse, princess.”
If I were to focus on the positive in a very bad situation, I was not chained and escorted into a cell. I was brought to a lavish parlor and promptly locked inside with a handful of armed guards stationed at the doors and windows. I ignored their icy stares and scanned the room.
White marble floors and walls shined cheerfully in the flickering candlelight. Silk furniture—gilded and ornate enough to rival the Sun King’s famed palace in France—surrounded me. I sat on the edge of a pearl-colored brocade settee, fingers itching to clasp my hidden dagger. No one spoke. There were no royal crests on their uniforms, nothing to indicate which royal House of Sin I’d accidentally invaded.