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Back Kingdom of the Wicked
Chapters (58)
  1. About the Author
  2. Title Page
  3. Imprint Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Map
  7. Contents
  8. Prologue
  9. One
  10. Two
  11. Three
  12. Four
  13. Five
  14. Six
  15. Seven
  16. Eight
  17. Nine
  18. Ten
  19. Eleven
  20. Twelve
  21. Thirteen
  22. Fourteen
  23. Fifteen
  24. Sixteen
  25. Seventeen
  26. Eighteen
  27. Nineteen
  28. Twenty
  29. Twenty-One
  30. Twenty-Two
  31. Twenty-Three
  32. Twenty-Four
  33. Twenty-Five
  34. Twenty-Six
  35. Twenty-Seven
  36. Twenty-Eight
  37. Twenty-Nine
  38. Thirty
  39. Thirty-One
  40. Thirty-Two
  41. Thirty-Three
  42. Thirty-Four
  43. Thirty-Five
  44. Thirty-Six
  45. Thirty-Seven
  46. Thirty-Eight
  47. Thirty-Nine
  48. Forty
  49. Forty-One
  50. Forty-Two
  51. Forty-Three
  52. Forty-Four
  53. Forty-Five
  54. Forty-Six
  55. Forty-Seven
  56. Forty-Eight
  57. Acknowledgments
  58. Endmatter page 1

I didn’t wait to see if it was dead or badly injured—I turned and fled.

For a little while, anyway. The venom had other plans for me.

Twenty-One

Twenty-One

Everything spun wildly—like the few times I’d mistakenly had too much wine with Claudia and Vittoria. I staggered back down the tunnel and collapsed under the grate I’d snuck in through. Escape was so close, yet impossibly far. I needed to gather my strength and drag myself up; and vowed to do just that . . .

. . . once my head stopped spinning and the nausea passed.

A soft thud landed near me, followed by a series of exquisitely foul curses. If I wasn’t convinced opening my mouth would bring on the vomit I was barely suppressing, I’d have laughed over the colorful litany. I couldn’t exactly remember his name at the moment, but I recalled he wasn’t normally prone to such outbursts. For some reason, the situation struck me as funny when it was anything but.

My head suddenly ached—the pain sharp and vicious. It felt like a thousand needles were pricking my brain simultaneously. I groaned, which only made it worse.

“Where are you hurt?” His voice was too loud. I batted him away, but he was an annoyingly persistent devil. “Focus! Did it bite you, witch?”

“Stop.”

Fingers probed my skull, my throat, then hesitated at my neckline. Somehow I’d managed to loop the cornicello over my head. He rolled me onto my side, and I nearly passed out from the next wave of agony. He clearly didn’t care about my pain and suffering. Maybe he enjoyed it. I vaguely recalled hating him. Now I knew why.

He paused for less than a heartbeat, then the sound of fabric tearing was followed by a blast of ice down my back. Air battered against my ripped flesh, the pain absolutely blinding in its fury. I think I might have screamed.

“Shit.”

Two solid arms hoisted me up, caging me against a body that had to be made of steel, not muscle and bone. We started moving swiftly, his steps fluid and graceful. Which was a good thing—if he bounced while running, I’d throw up all over him. I didn’t think he’d like that.

Wind whipped at my hair—we were traveling at an impossible speed through city streets. I made the mistake of looking at buildings flashing by once, and instantly regretted it. I nestled against his warm chest and squeezed my eyes shut. Pain was all I knew.

“We’re almost there.”