Chapter Sixteen
REXTON
AMELIA ROLLS OVER, taking the bedsheets with her. I always suspected she’d be a selfish bed-sharer, and I glare at the slope of her bare shoulder before sliding out of bed. The stone floor is freezing, and even the expensive rug beneath the bed isn’t enough to keep me from flinching as my feet hit the ground.
Wrath is significantly warmer than Greed. I used to complain about the heat, but I’d give anything to feel it again. Soon. Hopefully.
Amelia pulls the bedsheets even further around herself, covering her bare shoulder. I squeeze my eyes shut, already wishing I could forget last night.
The wedding ceremony was about as tense and awkward as I’d imagined it would be. Amelia couldn’t find it within herself to feign even the slightest interest in the event, and she went missing several times throughout the evening. I suspect she was trying to run away, but she should’ve known Mammon would never let that happen.
What the queen wants, the queen gets.
Amelia doesn’t react as I slip out of bed, but I’m sure she’s awake. She’s probably too busy plotting my death to acknowledge me. I don’t entirely blame her. She never wanted tomarry me, and I never made any attempts to win her favor. I’ve been too busy, and I frankly never felt the need.
If I succeed in killing Mammon and returning to Wrath, she’ll never have to see me again. If I fail, she’ll find herself widowed. Either way, she’ll be rid of me soon enough.
My clothing is strewn about the room, minus my shirt, which I staunchly refused to remove last night. I don’t need to undress entirely to fuck a woman, even if it makes said woman angry. I’m not sure why Amelia even cared to see me fully naked.
It’s not as if I attempted to remove every piece ofherclothing. I revealed the specific parts of her I needed access to, and I wasn’t interested in discovering more. Last night was about consummation, not pleasure. We did what we needed to fulfill our respective duties, nothing more.
I hope this is enough for Mammon’s protective wards to view me as family. It’s the closest I’m going to get. I’m married to her daughter in every way that matters, and the ink has had time to dry.
I remain quiet as I redress, not wanting to draw unwanted attention to myself. I have a queen to execute, and I don’t need Amelia asking questions. If she thinks I’m up to something, she’ll follow me. Or she’ll order her guards to. Neither is optimal.
I don’t like Amelia, but I have no interest in killing her. I’d like to get through this with as little blood on my hands as possible. Mammon has her order of succession meticulously planned out, and Prince Nolic is notoriously vengeful.
His relationship with Mammon is complicated at best, but he adores Amelia. She’s the baby of the family, and in the eyes of her older brothers, she can do no wrong. If I hurt a hair on her head, Prince Nolic will never rest until I’m dead. I don’t particularly care to deal with that.
The bedsheets rustle as Amelia sits up, my wife finally acknowledging my presence.
“Where are you going?” Her tone is sharp, filled with poorly concealed annoyance. “I hope you aren’t intending to abandon me in bed the morning after our wedding.”
“I’m hungry,” I say. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Amelia snorts. We both know I’m lying. I’d be eager to escape this bedroom even if I weren’t intending to murder Mammon. I’ve always struggled to spend time with Amelia. Our personalities don’t align.
It’s tradition within Greed for newly married couples to spend their first morning together, and my walking through the estate alone will draw attention. Rumors will spread. I don’t mind. If everything goes according to plan, by the end of the hour, my marriage to Amelia will be the last thing anybody cares about.
“You don’t need to leave. Just ring a shadow,” Amelia orders. “Have them bring me something as well. I’m famished.”
I don’t care to have this discussion, and I make a noncommittal noise before slipping out of the bedroom. Amelia jolts up at the last second, but I’m gone before she has the opportunity to complain further.
She’s undoubtedly pissed, but I doubt she’ll follow me into the hallway. She won’t publicly argue with me, not so soon after the wedding. At least, I hope not. Amelia can be volatile—she gets that lovely trait from her mother—and I learned long ago never to underestimate her.
I’m not confident she won’t follow me, but it will take her several minutes to collect her clothing and redress. I have time. Not much, but enough. I’ll have to make do.
My fingers tingle, the feeling spreading up my arms. I shake them out as I navigate the dark, cold hallways. My power is building, threatening to break through the barrier I’ve been placing on it. This is the closest I’ve ever gotten to exposing the true extent of it, and I’m nervous the amount currently seepingout will be noticed. I’m trying to hold it back, but that’s not a skill I had time to master before coming to Greed.
There’s a slight uptick in guards as I near the informal dining room.Perfect. Mammon enjoys quiet breakfasts alone, and she’s notorious for beginning her days before her children awake.
I’ve always made a point to steer clear of the informal, private areas of the estate unless explicitly invited. I’d hate to appear too comfortable. Nothing frustrates Mammon more than people who don’t know their place, and I wasn’t going to give her a reason to consider Amelia’s demands to call off the wedding.
The guards eye me as I walk past them, but they say nothing. I’m technically family now, an official part of the royal family. They won’t usher me away or deny me entry into the private areas of the estate.
I press my lips together, preparing to face Mammon as I eye the doorway leading into the dining room. The doors are half-shut, cracked open just slightly. I force my face into a neutral expression as I slip into the room.
Mammon sits at the head of the table. She’s alone.
