I looked at Wrath, his expression tight but proud. “They’re dead, my lady. All of them.”
Prickles erupted along my body again. I tore my gaze from my husband’s and glanced around. All the guards were looking at me with fear openly etched onto their faces.
Well, not all the guards. Plenty of demons dropped their gazes entirely, refusing to look me in the eye at all. I looked down the row of guards and soldiers until my attention rested on their prince. Greed wasn’t afraid, but I sensed a bit of trepidation as he inclined his head. His hand still rested on the pummel of his sword.
“House Greed thanks House Wrath for its assistance.”
Assistance. I’d ended a battle before any true war could begin. I looked at the uninjured guards—aside from the first guard who’d looked over the ledge, none had lost their lives. My fury hadn’t receded enough, and between the needles of fear stabbing me and the annoyance of male arrogance, I unleashed a bit more hell.
“Why is House Greed continually being targeted? I find it odd that both the witches and werewolves decided to attack your circle. No matter what match my sister keeps striking, they come to you. Not House Wrath or Envy or Pride. You. What have you done to make so many enemies?”
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.