A small part of me feels bad about the part he’s unknowingly playing in his queen’s death, but I don’t feel bad enough to change course. There are always unfair casualties in war. It’s a part of life.
I’m going to wear silk. It’s an expensive material, one highly valued within Greed. I want to look good, but I can’t draw too much attention. I can’t stand out amongst the other guests, despite how much I may wish to.
I find something in a muted color.
When I return to Wrath with Mammon’s decapitated head, I’m going to host a celebration. I’ll wear something breathtaking then.
My party is going to be the largest affair in years. I’ll make sure of it, and I’ll take great pride in retelling stories about my time in Greed. I’ll tell everybody how I seduced Princess Amelia’s betrothed and used him to take down Mammon. I’ll give every gory detail about Mammon’s death, about how it felt to sink my hand into her chest and rip out her heart. It’s going to feel so fucking good.
The hair on my arms stands straight at the mere thought.
They’re still raised as I make my way out of the dress shop. I’m so fucking excited.
Nobody pays me any mind as I return to the inn. The streets are busy, and I’ve done an excellent job blending in. It hasn’t been easy, but I’m dedicated.
I need to plan. I’ve spent years imagining the many different ways I want to murder Mammon, and it’s time to be serious. As much as I’d absolutely love to torture her and drag out the kill, I doubt I’ll have the time.
The wedding is my best opportunity, but I assume I’ll have mere milliseconds to take action. It’s disappointing, but beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll take whatever opportunity I can get, even if it grants Mammon a quick, painless death she doesn’t deserve. She deserves agony.
I also need to perfect my escape plan. I can’t teleport until I’m outside Greed’s borders, and the capital is in the heart of her kingdom. I’ll have to escape the old-fashioned way: on foot. It won’t be easy, but I’m not a quitter. I’ll figure something out. I always do.
I come to a hard stop as I reach my room door. It’s cracked open. I’m positive I shut and locked it before leaving. Somebody’s been here. I push down the wrath threatening to spread through my veins.
Whoever was in there better be gone. They’re as good as dead otherwise.
I roll my shoulders back, straightening my spine before closing the distance between myself and the cracked door. I don’t hear anything from inside, but I’m not taking any chances. I kick it open. The door slams against the wall with a loudbang, and I fill the doorway.
A man is sitting on my bed, and my eyes lock immediately with a pair of familiar black ones.Fuck.
Aziel cocks his head to the side. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find you, Cassia?”
I sure hoped.
I knew Aziel would be pissed when he learned what I’d done—that was a given—but I never in my wildest dreams imagined he’d follow me inside Greed. He’s too recognizable, and sneaking inside Greed is too risky. If Mammon knew he was here, if she heard so much as aninklingthat a Wrath of royal blood was here… I shake my head, not letting my thoughts stray that far.
I shut the door behind me, blocking the view of my room from the hallway.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
Aziel raises a brow. “What do you think I’m doing here? I’ve come to retrieve my unruly, disobedient daughter and bring her home.”
Which of my big-mouthed siblings confessed? Probably David. All it takes is one disappointed look from my parents for him to squeal, his incubus genes making him too weak for well-crafted lies and deception. I should’ve known better than to trust him with this information.
Aziel stretches out his legs, drawing attention to his clothing. He’s covered head to toe in black robes, and if he turns around, I’m sure I’ll find a hood. He wouldn’t have made it this deep into Greed without his face covered.
“You need to leave,” I say. “Before somebody recognizes you.”
“Great.” Aziel rises, and I notice that my few belongings have been packed up. How long has he been waiting for me? I’m not sure I want to know. “I’m relieved you’re not going to make a fuss about this. Let’s go.”
I shake my head. He misunderstands. “I’m not leaving. You are.”
I’ve put too much time and energy into this plan to abandon it. I’m finally making headway.
“I’ve been invited to a royal wedding,” I explain. “Mammon will be there…”
I trail off, letting the rest of my sentence go unspoken. The walls here are thin, and I operate under the assumption that somebody is always listening. I don’t know how loyal Mammon’s people are, and I’m not looking to find out.
Aziel rises to his full height, clearly trying to look intimidating. It doesn’t work on me, and it hasn’t since my earlyteen years. His posturing has only ever invoked my anger, which is why he so rarely does it.
