Plus, it was what detectives in novels did, and they always solved their mystery by the end of the book. I was no expert, but I’d try my best. I jotted down as much information as I could recall about the prophecy next.
Prophecy
As above, so below
? When twin witches are born, they must wear the Horn of Hades. （Vittoria and I.）
? Twins signal the end of the devil’s curse.
? Some witches think it means the use of both light magic and dark magic.
? Others think a prince of Hell will fall in love with a witch.
? One twin will rule in Hell, the other Heaven. （Both forced to sacrifice.）
My breath caught as I reread the second point. Twins signal the end of the devil’s curse.
“Holy goddess above. It can’t be…”
How did we all miss that earlier? My mind raced with thoughts of Claudia’s scrying session once again. About how “he” roamed free and the impossibility of it. She didn’t mean the angel of death. She’d been warning us about the devil. If my twin and I ended his curse, it was likely our birth that broke the magic binding him, not an action we’d taken.
Which meant he hadn’t been chained in Hell like we’d believed.
And he hadn’t been for nearly two decades. While I’d been investigating Vittoria’s murder, he’d been free, doing the goddess knew what.
So why, then, did Pride possess the body of Antonio and send Wrath to collect me in his stead? If he was not forced to reign in Hell, he could have come for me himself. He could have come to collect all of his potential brides. Why delegate that duty to Wrath?
Unless my earlier suspicion was correct and he was never actually in need of a bride. And the murders were committed for another reason.
Fear slid down my spine. I glanced at the new clock on my nightstand.
I’d wished for the bedside table and clock before turning in for the night, and both had magically appeared while I slept. I didn’t know if the room was magicked to my wants, or if Wrath had simply guessed I’d need them. It was likely the latter. Wrath’s attention to detail was astounding. As if he had nothing better to do than send for bedside tables.
Dinner was at midnight and there was still an hour left before then. Which gave me just enough time to rush back to the demon prince’s personal library. I’d planned to spend the time practicing harnessing my magic source, but that could wait. I needed to retrieve the journal on House Pride and sneak it back to my chamber. Immediately. Demon language or not, I’d find some way to read it, even if I had to bargain away another piece of my soul to accomplish it.
I managed to shove both the skull and stolen journal next to the first skull—hiding them all behind a voluminous dress—and close my wardrobe just as a knock sounded at the door. Exhaling quietly, I said a quick prayer to the goddess of lies and deception and hoped I’d not only make it through the night but that I’d come out more victorious than I dreamed.
I smoothed down the front of my bodice and crossed from my bedchamber into the sitting room that doubled as an antechamber.
With any luck, my racing heartbeat would be mistaken for nerves about dinner.
I opened the door and Fauna smiled broadly. Her happiness didn’t seem forced and a knot loosened in my chest. Perhaps I could strike a bargain with her to read the journal—she was a demon; she would no doubt possess the skills needed to read the demonic language.
But I wasn’t ready to hand over my trust just yet.
Unaware of my silent assessment and wandering thoughts, her gaze quickly traveled over me. “You look lovely, Emilia.”
“You do, too.” An understatement. She looked resplendent in a silver gown that appeared to be made of liquid metal. Images of Roman centurion breastplates crossed my mind; all she needed was the scarlet skirt or cape to complete the look. “Your gown is like armor.”
“Better to shield from the murderous glances with.” She winked and stepped back into the corridor, her expression turning serious. “Are you ready? We should make our way there soon. Guests are expected to arrive fashionably late, but not late enough to stoke royal ire.”
My pulse pounded. I hadn’t heard from—or seen—Wrath at all except for the note he sent regarding my clothing earlier. I had no idea what to expect from him tonight: how he would act in front of his subjects, if he’d ignore my presence, mock me, or seat me in a place of honor.
Maybe he wouldn’t even bother to show up. Perhaps he’d throw me to the wolves and see if I was vicious enough to grow fangs and make it out on my own. After our encounter in the library, he certainly seemed to hold a grudge against my family. What better way to exact revenge on them than by leaving me alone in a room full of bloodthirsty demons?