It’s been the longest seven years of my life.
I hoped to be married within the year of the announcement, but Amelia’s crafty in her excuses. I couldn’t be more relieved that she’s finally run out of them. Either that or Mammon has decided to stop accepting them. Either way, I’m not complaining.
Mammon never removes the rings that protect her. They create an impenetrable shield around her, preventing any attacks. Not even Silas knows of a being powerful enough to create them, nor does he know how to circumvent them. I can’t lay a finger on Mammon as long as she has her rings on.
I’ve never seen anything like it, and she began wearing the rings almost immediately after Luca’s death. She knew the Wrath Trio would want revenge, and she prepared for it.
Her familycantouch her, though. I’ve seen them do it several times. Her youngest children used to barrel into herwithout hesitation, and she greets her older ones with polite embraces.
This marriage is my best chance to get close without activating the magic in the jewelry. I’ll be family, if only by marriage, but I hope it’s enough. It has to be. It’s our only lead.
I shake out my arms, the tingling distracting. My power is returning, and I avoid eye contact with anybody I fear might try to engage in conversation as I head toward my bedroom. I miss my tiny apartment at the other end of the market, but Mammon insists I reside here.
Shadows shuffle out of the way as I walk through the halls. I recognize a few of them from the short time I pretended to work here, but they haven’t recognized me. I wasn’t here for long, and I only came to watch over Charlie.
I was terrified those here would recognize me during my first few visits as Mammon’s informant, but it’s been years and not one person has looked twice at me.
My steps quicken as I shove open my bedroom door, and I slap the door shut behind me. I have a busy day ahead of me, and I wasted precious time talking to Luna. She gave me almost nothing useful, other than confirming my suspicion that she’s indeed a highborn Wrath. I don’t know much more about her now than I did after our short run-in yesterday.
What are the odds Silasdidn’tsend her? I’m reasonably sure he did, but I can’t come right out and inquire on the off chance I’m wrong. I need to speak to her again, but it will draw too much attention. I’m not sure I can risk it.
I ensure my bedroom door is locked before pulling up the floorboards underneath my bed. Before entering Greed, Silas sent me into the pits of Wrath. I was freshly out of my shadow form, and I needed strength. I needed power, and the pits are the best place to secure it.
It’s a miracle I didn’t die in the years I spent there, but it was successful.
The glass container I’m searching for is wrapped in cloth, and I can’t help but frown as I unwrap it. I’m running low, but I can’t risk another shipment this close to the wedding. It’s too risky.
If Mammon discovers I drink a tonic to dull my power, she won’t hesitate to kill me. My several years of false loyalty will crumble, and this all would have been for nothing. I’m not going to let that happen.
The back of my throat tightens as I unscrew the lid, my body already rejecting the thick liquid. I haven’t felt the full extent of my power in several years, and I’ve forgotten what it feels like. I didn’t have long to enjoy it.
I snuck into Greed almost immediately after my time in the pits. The strength I gained felt incredible, but this shitty tonic dulls it. I force myself to swallow a mouthful. It physically hurts, and I sink to the ground with a pained groan. Soon. Soon, I can return home and put this behind me.
Chapter Twelve
CASSIA
LEARNING THE WAYS of Greed is easier than I expected. I master it within five days.
Rexton and I cross paths several times, but he doesn’t approach me. I don’t approach him, either. I’m waiting for him to make the first move.
It’s coming. He looks at me with fire in his eyes. He wants me, and it’s only a matter of time before he gives in.
I know it, and I’m not the least bit surprised when the royal messenger makes contact on day six. He holds a letter, and he makes a show of looking me up and down before handing it over. I do the same. He’s an average-looking man. Nothing special.
“This is for you,” he grunts.
I open the letter. It’s an invitation—an invitation to the royal wedding. A handwritten note is scribbled across the top.
I look forward to your ‘tempting offers.’
I’m sure Rexton does.
—————
There’s a noticeable pep to my step as I walk down the row, searching for the perfect gown. This will be the dress I’ll be wearing when I murder Mammon. It has to be spectacular.
And to think I was beginning to fear an invitation wouldn’t come. Rexton’s avoiding me, but I knew I wasn’t imagining the heat in his gaze whenever we cross paths. I hypnotize him.
