Page 88 of The Demon Crown

That was it. His brother had no right to judge his life.

Leaning over his own pommel, he braced himself on the sturdy saddle as his beast shifted between his thighs. “Why are we sitting here talking about me? You’re casting judgement, brother, when you are the one here with a babysitter because you couldn’t stop eating your own people. Why don’t we talk about that?”

Gluttony’s face darkened with what Greed could only hope was embarrassment. “We’re not talking about me.”

“Oh, but we are. You were the one sent away like a misbehaving brat to a kingdom far from your own, because Wrath didn’t want mommy to see how badly you had misbehaved.” Calling Pride “mommy” was perhaps a bit of a stretch. But their brother in the skies was rather pretty.

Though they both knew it was right, Gluttony would argue. He never failed to rise to a challenge like this. “First, I did not eat any of my followers. I drank her blood dry because she wanted me to. And second, do you really believe Wrath could take me out of my own kingdom if I did not wish to go?”

“Yes.” Greed rolled his eyes. “You’re a bigger fool than I thought if you believe you could go head to head with Wrath. There’s a reason he is where he is. None of us wanted that kingdom, but he looked at the challenge of darkness and monsters and made it his own. You want to fight him? Be my guest. I wouldn’t even take a punch from that one.”

And that was the truth. Greed would fight anyone and everyone who would give him a chance. He adored fighting. Loved the feeling of a fist meeting his face even if only because that meant he could unleash whatever he wanted on the person. Fighting was a catharsis that so few people ever got to feel. A release of all that pent up aggression in his body.

But fight Wrath? He’d rather lie down and let the sun take him.

Gluttony shook his head, but his red eyes had turned out toward the desert as well. Almost as though he couldn’t look Greed in the eyes.

And that was strange on its own. His brother had never backed down from a fight. Not once.

Curiosity burned in his chest, and the feeling was rather welcome considering all he’d been able to feel for a while now was rage and disgust at himself. Latching onto it as though that feeling might save him, Greed pushed. “Well? If you want me to believe Wrath’s story, then by all means, stay silent. This is your chance to tell me what happened.”

“You are inclined not to believe me.”

“You are correct.” Greed squeezed the reins a little too tightly in his hands. “But I will do my best to hear you out.”

Though Gluttony turned to look at him with suspicion in his eyes, his brother spoke. Halting, shuddering words that revealed he didn’t want to tell Greed. Something inside him must feel an ounce of guilt for it. He must know that these dark thoughts and worries needed to be purged.

“She wanted to die,” he started, his voice deeper than before. “I didn’t want to be the hand that wielded that blade, but there was no other choice. Not for either of us. She had to die, and I had to let her go, so I did. I was the murderer who eased her into the beyond in the only way I know how to, Greed. I’m not a killer, like you.”

“I’ve never killed innocents.”

“Of course you have,” Gluttony scoffed. “We all have. Every choice we make in our kingdoms kills innocents because none of us were meant to be gods. I have my vices that you judge me for, just as you have your own. I cannot understand your need to take, just as you cannot understand my need to consume. It is who we are.”

And that sounded... wrong. Greed urged his mount forward, knowing Gluttony’s would follow. “I do not have vices. I encourage people to embrace the part of themselves that keeps them here. We have given the people in each of our kingdoms a safe place for them to feel no guilt for who they are.”

“Ach,” Gluttony tsked. “You sound like Pride. But you don’t actually believe that, do you? We’re the problem, brother. We always have been. I know it was our dream to be mortal and that we would take these forms and make a significant difference, but we haven’t done that. All we’ve done is feed in greater volume since we took the thrones. We made the humans worse.”

The thought of that didn’t sit right.

Had he made this kingdom worse? No. He hadn’t. “When I came here, there were hundreds of tribes all over the kingdom, each one vastly different from the one next to them. They fought with each other nonstop. They followed herds of creatures to eat and they were starving. The jungle devoured them day in and day out before I gave them a reason to band together.”

“And in doing so, you made them all the same.” Gluttony didn’t even flinch at the glare Greed sent toward him. Instead, his brother held his gaze with a strength that he hadn’t seen in Gluttony for a very long time. “I’m not telling you that you’re a bad person, Greed. I’m just saying we’re all the villains in their stories, no matter how much they pretend to love us. We’re the monsters in the storybook, the ones who fucked up their world and remade it in our own vision. And perhaps it is time for all of us to recognize that about ourselves.”

He swallowed hard. “You want us to accept that we are monsters?”

“Yes.” Gluttony didn’t hide from that. He just agreed with it. “There is power in accepting what you are. The humans call us demons for a reason.”

“I don’t want to be a demon,” Greed muttered, but his brother saw through him, as he always did.

“Don’t you?” Gluttony asked, his eyes boring into Greed’s profile. “I know I do. I’m not ashamed of it. They call me the demon king and I have become one. I drink blood. I devour their life essence and I consume all that I am given. If that does not make me a demon, then I am unsure of what I am.”

Unsettling. Every part of this conversation was unsettling, and most of it was the thought that he didn’t want to be the person who others feared. He didn’t want to be the reason this kingdom floundered or failed.

But no one had taught them how to be kings. He’d done what he thought was right, and now they were all here. The desert ruled them all in some small part, because his kingdom wasn’t like the others. Greed had taken the hardest kingdom because he had felt a kinship to it and that was... it.

The sand rolled underneath him and he sighed. Knowing that his own stupid feelings were getting the better of him. He had to push them back down. To indulge himself in more greed and bloodshed, because that was where he was most comfortable.

If only the desert would let him think. If he didn’t have to feel like he was rolling on a lake somewhere or—

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