Home > Books > Kingdom of the Feared (Kingdom of the Wicked, #3)(95)

Kingdom of the Feared (Kingdom of the Wicked, #3)(95)

Author:Kerri Maniscalco

Ruby-colored stairs formed within the spiral, disappearing into a yawning darkness that dropped below ground level. Just as Wrath had explained would happen. He couldn’t come with me—this was something I needed to do on my own—but that hadn’t stopped him from divulging everything he knew, like a general preparing a solider for battle.

I gathered my skirts with one hand and stepped onto the crimson stairs. I followed them without fear as I traveled underground. No water from the reflecting pool touched me; it parted with each step I took deeper into the earth. Once I’d fully submerged myself, leaving the cool winter night behind, I descended for a few minutes, the air turning crisper the farther down I went. The temperature didn’t bother me as it once would have. It wasn’t comfortable, but I did not experience any teeth-chattering or rising goose bumps along my flesh.

There was no light, only endless dark that seemed to get thicker, more pervasive with each meter I traveled. But, with my immortal body and senses, I could see almost as clearly as if it were a sunny afternoon near the shore. After a few minutes of moving at a brisk speed, the stairs abruptly ended. I stood on rocky soil and glanced around the small cavern.

A shaft of unnatural bluish light illuminated a well made of what appeared to be bricks of rose quartz that sat just off center from the base of the stairs. The Well of Memory. I moved closer, noting arcane symbols and Latin had been carved into some gemstones on its edge. I ran a finger over the indentations, feeling the power contained within the well hum against my skin.

I peered into the magical well; the water was crystal clear, showing off what had to be thousands of crystals all along its bottom. Each gemstone represented a memory or a nightmare. Something terrible enough that whoever had let the memory go would not miss it.

I wondered if Wrath had come to find a memory or to lose one. It wasn’t important. The only thing that mattered now was finding out as much as possible about this blade that, according to Fauna’s research, could end my husband’s curse. I could not lose sight of that, or I had no hope of succeeding.

I climbed over the small wall and submerged myself in the water, ignoring the slight nip of coldness that seeped into my clothing. “Where is the Blade of Ruination?”

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the well, allowing my mind to focus solely on the answer I was searching for. My fingers skimmed over several crystals before I paused on one that felt slightly warmer. Fauna hadn’t mentioned anything like that, but maybe it was a positive sign that I’d attracted the correct memory. There was only one way to find out. My fingers closed around the crystal, and I drew the memory into me, taking it on as if it were mine.

Fear clawed at the young wolf, tearing screams from its already torn-apart throat. It was just a pup, but it sensed the dark magic of the man. Demon. His cruel slash of a mouth pressed into a thin line when his coin-colored gaze drifted back to her. She’d heard him enter their home, heard the hushed words he’d spoken with her papa, and immediately shifted. Something her papa told her wasn’t supposed to be possible. And a mistake she’d immediately regretted once the demon had scruffed her up by the neck and held her up.

“This is your firstborn? The hybrid warrior?”

His tone hinted at disbelief. The pup growled, baring her small canines.

Papa’s eyes widened. “Yes, your highness. Her very name means ‘dedicated to Mars,’ the god of war, as you—”

“I care nothing for mortal gods. She will be given a proper demon name once we’re back in my court.”

The pup wriggled in the stranger’s grip, panicked. She didn’t know what court was and didn’t wish to find out. Papa’s throat bobbed; the wolf pup pleaded wordlessly for him to take her back, take her from this stranger’s grip. Her mother, the woman who never loved her for some reason, had already gone to bed. If Papa didn’t save her, no one would.

“Your highness”—Papa squared his shoulders, and hope surged in the young pup—“perhaps there is something else I can give you to clear my debt. She is but a pup. Scraggly and unremarkable. Let me raise enough coin instead. Or perhaps… perhaps I will succeed in finding the Blade of Ruination.”

“You haven’t found the blade yet and likely never will.” The stranger held the pup up to his face again, inspecting her closely. “She shifted, about twenty years early, according to your own history. That seems fairly remarkable to me. And what of her demon abilities? What sort of magic does she possess on that end?”

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