Page 43 of Wicked Prince of Carnage
A young woman shushed her crying child and handed him a glazed pastry. Two adolescent girls giggled with one another while throwing yellow and white petals into a fountain.
“This shop.” Amalli grasped Sterling by the arm to halt her when they’d reached a large oval window where a silk gown of white with gold jewels embellishing its hem was displayed.
“A dress shop?” Sterling wrinkled her nose. “Do you need me to help you pick out something? If so, I have absolutely no fashion sense.”
“Not for me.” Amalli’s grin grew. “For you. You’re attending a mating ceremony tonight and will not wear a drab servant uniform.”
“A mating ceremony?” Sterling hissed. “Why would I need to go to that?”
“The prince demands it.”
Of course he did… Sterling had heard gossip about the wolves’ mating rituals. It was their wedding ceremony, a way to finalize their mating bond. Afterward, the guests would celebrate until sunrise, getting drunk on mead and finding their own pleasure.
Another game from the prince, to keep a close eye on her, while filling her with lust, only to be unsatisfied in the end.
Sterling entered the shop behind Amalli and couldn’t deny that the gowns were beautiful. Her gaze settled on an emerald one—ornate stitching decorated the hem and bodice.
“This isn’t a ball.” Amalli rolled her eyes and motioned Sterling toward the back of the shop where leather and furred fabrics hung on a long rack.
The sheer curtains behind a counter parted, and a slender woman stepped out, swirling black tattoos covering her arms and neck. “Do you need help with anything?” She smiled, interest lighting up her eyes.
“She’s attending her first mating ceremony, and she’ll need her choices fitted,” Amalli said, nudging Sterling toward the rack.
Sterling frowned and sifted through the fabrics. A short brown and green leather dress caught her attention when Amalli tsked, “I think you can do better than that.”
With a grunt, Sterling shifted past piece after piece until her fingers halted on a brown leather skirt. Gray fur decorated the hem, and thorned vines etched into the fabric. The bodice held a matching design, fur lining the top.
“That will look perfect on you.” The dressmaker beamed and hurried over as if she’d been waiting for someone to choose that specific piece. “Try it on, and I can make any adjustments you wish.”
Sterling peered around the shop, not finding the curtains that one would generally go into to try something on. But she was in wolf territory where modesty didn’t matter, so she drew off her uniform and slipped on both pieces of clothing. The dressmaker tightened the strings at the back of the bodice and pushed Sterling’s cleavage up even higher, her breasts nearlyspilling out. She then stitched along the skirt’s hem, making it rise until it barely covered Sterling’s backside.
She peered at herself in the long rectangular mirror between two green cloaks, and all she could focus on was the scars on her face and chest, reminders of why she was there. Neither of these wolves had put her in this predicament—they’d been nothing but kind. Besides that, there was nothing she could do except behave and win the next game.
As Amalli paid for the clothing, Sterling’s brow rose. This was nothing she would’ve ever been able to afford, but she’d never even gone to a village dance to need something nice. She and Nareth had preferred to get drunk on gin and fuck wherever they wished. Her chest clenched at his name, praying to the gods that he was in another court with his new lover.
When they stepped back into daylight, a carriage from the castle awaited to take them to the king’s home. The horses pulled the carriage past several farms, then entered a wooded area with an abundance of rich foliage before venturing by cozy villages.
The sun eventually shone down on a massive castle, its coloring mirroring that of a forest. Browns and greens interwove with one another, and ivy lined the stone front in a gorgeous artful decoration. Turrets, a deep earthy shade of brown, brushed the sky.
They passed through moss-covered trees and hanging vines when finally, they reached the castle. Once they came to a stop near a side entrance, Sterling stepped down from the carriage and followed Amalli into the castle, the woodsy scent pleasant but not nearly as much as Winter’s home. Even though the castle was more extravagant with murals and a dome-shaped ceiling, a coldness lingered as she watched the servants clean without once looking up from their duties.
“This way,” Amalli said, pointing to the wooden staircase. They ascended the pristine steps, and Sterling looked atpaintings of who she assumed was King Valco since he resembled Winter. But all the paintings, she realized, were of him. Not a single one of Winter or the queen.
“Were there ever any other paintings here?” Sterling asked as she settled on one of Valco, bare-chested, and relaxed in a bronze throne, a smirk on his face as if he was staring back at her. A cockiness exhumed him from that picture alone.
“Of anyone besides King Valco?” Amalli shook her head. “Not since he ascended the throne.”
A vain, cruel king and a manipulative, wicked prince.
Amalli stopped in front of a dark-stained wooden door and drew it open. “The prince will come for you later. I’ll be at the manor, but a servant will bring you dinner shortly.”
A pit formed in her stomach now that the one wolf she slightly trusted would be gone, that she was now truly parted from her brother. Even though she hadn’t seen Cyan, there’d been relief that they were under the same roof. But for now, she had to believe he would be cared for by Amalli, the way he had been thus far.
“Will you tell my brother I love him?” she asked, tears brimming her eyes.
Amalli nodded and ushered Sterling inside, locking the door behind her. The room was simple, not a single window in sight. A luxurious bed of green silks rested in the corner with a chest of drawers opposite it. Releasing a breath, she sat on the edge of the bed. She never expected to be in the king’s castle, especially not in a room over the dungeon.
Just as she considered rummaging through the drawers, the door unlocked and a silent servant brought in a food tray. Once the woman left, Sterling drank down the chicken broth and purple tea, then waited in the quiet, wondering what the next game would eventually entail. This time she would make certain to win on her own and free her brother.
