Greed lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps they’re after my wealth. Coins from one gaming hall alone could help fund a war.” He offered a bland smile. “Please see yourselves to your guest suite. I’d be remiss if I didn’t throw a celebratory ball to honor you both.”
With that, Greed and his guards marched back into the castle. I thought about tossing a few fire buds at their heels, the idea of watching them hop into the castle slightly amusing, but refrained. Wrath was still watching me as if I might lose control and burn the realm to the ground.
“I told you,” I said quietly, “you have nothing to fear from me.”
“I know that.” Wrath’s gaze shifted to the grounds. “But do you?”
I glanced over the parapet, staring down at the smoldering lawn, the bodies of our enemies were nothing more than a smudge of ash now.
It should disturb me, holding enough power to obliterate two dozen witches without breaking a sweat. Nonna might be down there among the dead. And yet I felt nothing. Except perhaps satisfaction that I’d protected the one I love. Which made me understand why my husband had been cautious with setting the vengeance goddess in me free.
I turned my attention back to Wrath. “I’d like to bathe off the scent of smoke before we dress for tonight.”
Unsurprisingly, Greed’s ballroom was bronzed decadence. As was true in his gaming halls, everything felt rich, luxurious, the best his coin could buy. Rich colors, an abundance of fine metals, silks and velvets, and an overwhelming amount of art showcased in gorgeous frames. It was a room meant to show the prince’s greed for material riches.
Wrath and I casually strolled around the expansive dance floor. He hadn’t said much when we’d bathed then changed into our formal attire, his mood nearly impossible to read.
But I wasn’t a fool. I understood seeing me in all my glory, allowing my fury to run rampant, was troubling. But he knew what our strategy was; he’d helped to come up with it before we left House Wrath. Unlike his brother and Greed’s army, Wrath hadn’t been taken by surprise this evening. He knew if I felt like either one of us were threatened, I would unleash my power without mercy. I vowed that no one would ever take us from each other again.
And I meant it.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d regretted any part of our approach. If the general of war preferred to do battle in a more literal, hand-to-hand manner; my willingness to toss that civility aside and annihilate might have disturbed him.
Wrath had used his magic as an added weapon when we’d fought the wolves, but he’d used his dagger equally. A prickle of unease ran over me. It was impossible to tell if it was my mortal conscience resurfacing or if it was spikes of fear from nearby lords and ladies.
“Lady Emilia.” A footman approached with glasses of sparkling wines in pale golds and pinks and plums to choose from. Gold flakes swirled within each glass, another form of greed. I chose a pale pink wine and sipped from it carefully. Wrath chose a plum-colored wine, and we continued our slow stroll around the ballroom.
Harder prickles ran along my arms with each group of lords and ladies we walked past. The bolder demons inclined their heads, muttering a polite, “Prince Wrath. Lady Emilia,” before quickly finding somewhere else to be. Something unpleasant wedged itself under my ribs.
I didn’t expect their thanks, but averted gazes and spikes of fear were a surprise. An unwelcome one. It was difficult to discern if their fear was directed entirely at me or if they were also wary of Wrath. The last time he was here, he did destroy a gaming hall with his legendary anger. Perhaps we were both targets of fear.
Though my husband had no difficulty drawing other males to his side. A few lords chatted politely about the battle that wasn’t and took sips of their drinks, giving themselves a reason to rush off once Wrath reminded them how my fire magic saved them.
Wrath squeezed my hand gently. “Would you care to dance, my lady?”
“Yes.”
My husband led us onto the dance floor; it was a lustrous bronze that reflected our images in a fuzzy, distorted manner. It matched how I felt internally: distorted and fuzzy. I was unused to trying to incorporate mortal emotions into my immortal sensibilities. It felt like two halves of me were trying to come together, but one half was oil and the other was water. No matter how hard I tried to blend them together, they remained separate, almost warring with each other.
Wrath held me indecently close as the musicians struck up a waltz, his hand sliding low enough on my back to cause a honeyed warmth to ignite in my veins. If he was attempting to distract me from the needles of unease crossing the room, it was almost working.
Until I set my attention on the Duke of Devon and felt the heat of his anger. He promptly turned to the male he’d been dancing with and said something that made the demon chuckle. At my expense, most likely. Though I refused to allow that to sting. I, too, would have been upset if I’d been caught in Wrath’s sinful storm with my cock out and ended up pissing myself.
Couples that had been seemingly unaware of anyone aside from each other stiffened as we passed. This time, I heard the whispers. They spoke of the rise of the Feared. How the goddess of death was wanted for murder and how Fury had come to settle my sister’s debts. It wasn’t my wrathful husband they were scared of—it was me.
I rested my head against Wrath’s shoulder and ignored the murmurs. They could talk and gossip all they liked; none of them knew me or what I felt. How I wanted to help them all by finding the Blade of Ruination and breaking the curse. Even then, I imagined nothing I did would ever be good enough for some. They’d always find cause to hate or fear me if that was the path they chose to wander. The murmurs turned more pointed, crueler.
I held my head high as we continued to dance around the room. Soon the crowded dance floor was almost empty, and the prickles that indicated fear had turned to stabbing. I clamped my jaw together and kept my expression neutral. Perhaps it was the nearly twenty years of being mortal and living as a human, but I no longer wished to inspire such fear.
Power was one thing—I would not apologize for the ability to defend myself and those I loved, but this? This was not at all what I wanted. A memory of my old life came floating back. Despite the fiery magic I summoned, I’d been cold on the inside, alone except for my twin.
I’d forgotten how isolating it had been, being feared. I hadn’t known anything else, had nothing to compare it with. Now I knew the warmth of friendship. The joy of laughter and the comfort in… acceptance.
Wrath was respected for his power, not punished for it. Demons and even his brothers thought twice before crossing him, yet they looked at me like I was an executioner ready to incinerate them for any perceived slight. It wasn’t fair to be punished for the very same thing my husband was revered for. Though maybe from their perspective I was something that did inspire true fear. House Vengeance was not simply ruled by one sin like the other Houses. It could come for all, and that was something the demons feared.
“… she tricked him into marriage.”
A couple shot me a nasty look, and I stiffened. That wasn’t at all what had happened.
“Ignore them.” Wrath’s voice was as smooth as silk in my ear. “You didn’t trick me into anything. And you were magnificent today. You stopped a battle before it could start a war. Your magic brought peace. It was a necessary and strategic move. Never doubt that.”
“That doesn’t seem to be the consensus shared by this court,” I said quietly. “I thought you might be questioning our tactics, too.”
“I trust you, my lady. And I trusted your judgment out there today.” He swept us across the dance floor, his touch grounding me. “The witches would not have fought a fair battle. They would have used more magic and trickery. In this instance, I stand behind our choice to fight as we did. You used your magic as a weapon today. It did not use you, Emilia. It was a true victory, and I’m proud of what you accomplished. None of these courtiers would stand up and fight for their own court.”
“I acted mostly for my own benefit,” I confessed. “I didn’t want Greed to demand another blood retribution. And when they targeted you, I wanted to kill them all.”
Wrath brought his lips to my ear, and I felt him smile. “Even more appealing, my lady.”
“Liar.” I gripped his hand in mine as we moved across the dance floor, thankful. I knew what he said was right, and yet with the ballroom full of fearful demons, it made me feel otherwise.
Obliterating an enemy by setting them ablaze didn’t feel heroic. It felt callous. Or that’s what I would have felt before the spell-lock was removed. Everything was confusing now, wrong. I was a goddess who shouldn’t feel so deeply, who should act without judgment, but I knew one fact to be true: just because I had the power to do so didn’t mean I should.
What sort of precedence would that set for the subjects of the realm? We were all trapped in an endless cycle of wrong acts. Sursea using us. Vittoria and I tricking Wrath and Pride. The witches binding us. Me and Vittoria striking back at them. Their attacking House Greed. This unrest between all of us could go on for eternity if we didn’t put an end to it. Someone needed to stand up and say enough. That might wasn’t always right. Otherwise, the next powerful creature could emerge and do whatever they saw fit to anyone less powerful.
“A kiss for your thoughts?” Wrath asked. Smiling at the unexpected request, I lifted my face, allowing our lips to brush against each other. “Now tell me.”