“We can’t dance here.”
“Of course we can.”
We struck an odd pair. Without his armor, Wrath’s chest was bare, his leather pants molded to his form, and I was dressed in crimson silk. He didn’t seem to mind. He acted as if he were in the finest evening attire, too.
The warrior prince guided us slowly through the steps, keeping us shoulder-width apart as we swept back, to the sides and forward in a loose interpretation of a box.
I watched our feet, worried I’d step on his or get tangled up in his legs.
“Tilt your chin up so you can gaze adoringly into my eyes.” He grinned down at my scowl. “I want you to focus on how handsome I am, how talented at dancing and killing, and forget everything else. Except for how much you want to kiss me.”
I couldn’t help myself; I laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Perhaps.” His voice turned low and seductive as his hand slid down to the small of my back, drawing me a little closer. “But you’re waltzing like a goddess now.”
The warmth of him, his praise, the hard muscle beneath my fingertips… all had me swaying nearer. Wrath placed his lips against my ear. “You’re—”
“Is this a godsdamn ballroom now?” Anir propped himself against the doorjamb, arms crossed. A lazy grin spread across his face as he batted his lashes. “Will you be teaching this new technique to all of the soldiers, your highness, or just us pretty ones?”
With what appeared to be immense effort, Wrath tore his gaze from me, but didn’t release us from our position. “A good fighter is skilled in weapons. A great fighter is skilled in dance. Perhaps I’ll appoint you as the new dance master.”
“While that sounds titillating, I do come with news from the dungeon.” Anir pushed himself up from the spot where he’d casually leaned, his expression serious. “It’s the mortal.”
Wrath tensed. “What happened?”
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. Screams 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.