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Wrath took a sip of the drink he’d snagged earlier and said casually, “I would like to be home with my queen instead of tolerating your paltry jabs.”
“Oh, I see.” Lust’s voice turned mocking. “You’re angry because you’d like to be home jabbing your wife.”
“Perhaps your idea that anyone would enjoy ‘jabbing’ is why you’re unattached, brother.”
I spotted Envy across the crowd, and he raised a glass in my direction. Help came in the most unexpected places sometimes, but I didn’t care. “If you’ll both excuse me.”
I rushed away, leaving the brothers arguing, and swiped a glass of demonberry wine. I clinked my glass against Envy’s. “Thank you for saving me from that fight.”
“I figured they were having another adolescent argument involving their cocks.”
“You’re not wrong.”
At that he grinned. “I rarely am.”
“Humble, too.”
“I’m a prince. Royals don’t bother with something as pedestrian as humility.”
I chuckled, the sound bringing another grin to the prince’s lips. It was hard to believe—after everything we’d been through—that we could stand here, willingly, smiling together. “Careful, you don’t want to show too much emotion or someone might think you actually like your queen.”
“I wouldn’t go out of my way to stab you,” he said. “So that’s progress.”
Now it was my turn to smile. “And I wouldn’t go out of my way to incinerate you.”
“Obviously you cannot wield fire magic anymore, but I appreciate the sentiment.” His brows raised. “Are we… friends?”
Envy looked and sounded aghast, but somehow I felt my answer mattered. More than he’d let on. I gave him a disgusted look, not feeling disgusted at all. “It would appear so.”
“How tragic.”
“Indeed. I’m rather put off by it,” I lied. Envy’s scowl didn’t quite match the new glimmer in his eyes. It wasn’t happiness—whatever dark thing he’d gone through, he hadn’t healed from that—but it looked suspiciously close to contentment. It was there and gone, and I might have read it wrong, but for his sake, I hoped I was mistaken. Each of Wrath’s brothers, my sister, and all our friends deserved to find their own happiness, however that looked to them.
A hush fell over the crowd as the doors swung open.
“Vittoria, goddess of death, princess of House Vengeance.”
The court announcer’s voice rang out, and for one short beat, the music halted.
Vittoria entered the ballroom looking the feared goddess she was. Her black gown was sheer everywhere except for carefully placed gemstones and appliques.
All eyes turned to her and lingered. She looked stunning—with her dark hair tumbling down her back in soft curls, her lips painted a brilliant red, and the confidence of a woman who owned who she was and didn’t give two damns what anyone thought.
My lips twisted up. House Vengeance would certainly face some difficulties as it reestablished itself, but if anyone could handle adversity and thrive, it was my sister.
“Your majesty.” Envy bent over my hand and pressed his lips to my knuckles before straightening. “I suppose it will be beneficial to have the Queen of the Seven Circles’ favor.”
I surveyed him closely. “That sounds ominous.”
“Oh, look. You have another guest to attend to.” Envy shoved Pride in front of him and flashed his dimples. “Enjoy your celebration, Lady Emilia.”
Envy finished his wine and fled the ballroom, narrowly missing an encounter with Vittoria. Pride folded his arms across his chest, watching my sister accept a dance from a rather dashing demon. Pride’s expression was carefully blank, but he called for another glass of sparkling wine, well before he’d finished the one he currently held.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said, his attention still on my twin. “Nicoletta”—his teeth gritted together as he corrected himself—“Vittorialoves stirring up trouble.”
“You seem to enjoy a good challenge. Enough to be unable to turn it down.”
Pride wrenched his attention from my sister and focused on me. “Your sister and I share many commonalities. Or at least the person she pretended to be shared my interests. I do not know who she truly is, nor does it matter anymore. Nicoletta was never real. My wife was. And I fucked that up. Royally, as my brother so kindly pointed out earlier. I should have tried harder to understand her. We both knew our ways were different. It was our responsibility to attempt to bridge the divide of our upbringing and cultures.”
