Kingdom of the Wicked

Sicily as Setting and System

The strongest element of Kingdom of the Wicked is the one most easily overlooked in marketing copy: Kerri Maniscalco has done real work on her setting. The Sicily of this novel is not a generic European backdrop dressed in different clothes. It carries a specific sensory texture — the heat, the food, the social codes of an 1880s Sicilian family — and it grounds the fantasy in something that feels researched rather than invented for convenience.

The folk magic system draws from the streghe tradition, the Italian witch heritage that runs through southern Italian culture, and Maniscalco uses it with some care. Emilia’s family practices this magic quietly, in ways that are integrated into daily life rather than spectacular. That integration matters: when the novel asks readers to accept a literal demon prince walking through that world, the transition is easier because the magic was already there, already part of the fabric.

Wrath and the Enemies-to-Lovers Bargain

Emilia’s deal with Wrath — one of Dante’s Seven Princes of Hell, reimagined here as actual beings rather than allegorical figures — is the narrative engine of the book. She summons him to help find her twin sister’s killer, and he agrees for reasons he declines to explain. The classic structure of the reluctant bargain, with both parties hiding their true motivations, is well-established in paranormal romance, and Maniscalco executes it competently.

Wrath himself is more interesting than the genre archetype usually allows. He is arrogant in ways that are specific rather than generic, and his antagonism with Emilia has texture — it is not simply that they dislike each other, but that they distrust each other for reasons that will eventually be revealed to have some basis. The slow revelation of why he is actually helping her is one of the genuine pleasures of the second half.

The Murder at the Center

What separates Kingdom of the Wicked from comparable paranormal romances is that the mystery actually functions as a mystery. Emilia’s twin Vittoria is dead before the novel opens, and the investigation into who killed her — and why — drives the plot in ways that have structural weight independent of the romance. Maniscalco has experience with this: her earlier Stalking Jack the Ripper series was built on similar crime-plus-supernatural architecture, and that experience shows.

The mystery is not the deepest or most complex in the genre. Attentive readers will likely assemble the significant pieces before the reveal. But having a mystery at all — having a reason for Emilia and Wrath to be together that is not purely romantic — gives the book a solidity that many of its genre companions lack.

A Honest Note on Tone

Readers arriving from ACOTAR, Fourth Wing, or other recent adult paranormal fantasy should calibrate their expectations. Kingdom of the Wicked is published as YA crossover, and it reads that way. The romantic tension is present and the chemistry between Emilia and Wrath is believable, but the physical content is minimal and the emotional beats are paced for a younger audience. This is not a criticism — the book is doing what it intends to do — but it is a relevant fact for readers whose genre expectations were set by more explicit titles.

The violence, on the other hand, is not tame. The murders in the book are described with some specificity, and the demonic elements lean dark. Kingdom of the Wicked occupies that particular register where it is YA-adjacent in its romance but not in its horror, which is a legitimate place to be and one that will suit readers who want atmosphere and dread alongside the slow-burn.

Our rating: 3.5/5 — A well-grounded paranormal mystery with a distinctive Sicilian setting and a compelling demon lead, held back slightly by deliberate pacing and a romance that stays cooler than the genre’s current expectations.