Chapter 71 The Cost of Silence
Dawn came too quickly.
Lilith stood on the balcony overlooking the execution courtyard, Sera beside her silent and solemn. Below, guards had assembled in formal rows, and a platform had been erected in the center of the space. The headsman stood ready, his blade gleaming in the grey morning light.
“You don’t have to watch,” Sera said quietly. “No one would blame you for staying in your room.”
But Lilith couldn’t look away. She needed to see this, needed to witness what Machala had orchestrated. The Head Maid, or rather the thing wearing her face, was led onto the platform with the same eerie calm she’d displayed during her confession. No fear, no pleading, no last words. Just empty compliance.
The Devil had refused to attend, too weak to leave his chambers. But all seven brothers stood at the courtyard’s edge, bearing witness to the execution of someone who’d betrayed their family. Azrael’s face was carved from ice. Cain’s hands flickered with barely contained fire. Even Belphegor looked fully alert, watching with sharp focus.
Machala stood near Lucian, his expression appropriately grave. Playing his part perfectly.
The headsman read the charges: treason, espionage, and violation of trust. The Head Maid knelt without resistance, positioning herself over the block with practiced efficiency. Too practiced. A real person facing death would struggle, would show some emotion, some humanity.
This thing showed nothing.
The blade fell.
Lilith watched the blood spray across the platform, and even from a distance, she could see it. The color was wrong, too dark, too thick. Not quite right for demon blood, definitely not right for human blood. The liquid of a construct designed to bleed convincingly but not perfectly.
No one else seemed to notice. Or if they did, they attributed it to morning shadows, distance, or their own expectations of what they should be seeing.
The body was removed quickly, taken to be burned as the Devil had decreed. Lilith watched it all happen, watched Machala’s perfect deception play out to its conclusion, and said nothing. What could she say that wouldn’t make her sound paranoid or delusional or desperate to be right about her wild accusations?
The courtyard emptied. Brothers dispersed, guards returned to their posts, and justice was considered served.
“It’s over now,” Sera said, squeezing Lilith’s hand. “The spy is dead. You can stop being afraid.”
Lilith nodded, not trusting her voice. Let Sera believe it. Let everyone believe it. The truth would stay locked inside her chest where it couldn’t make things worse than they already were.
They returned to her chambers where her belongings had been packed for the journey to Mammon’s kingdom. The visit had been planned for weeks, and the Devil saw no reason to postpone it just because they’d caught and executed a traitor. Life continued, the prophecy continued, and Lilith’s education in the seven kingdoms would proceed as scheduled.
Azrael came to her room an hour before departure, looking tired in a way that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion. “Are you alright? Watching that couldn’t have been easy.”
“I’m fine,” Lilith lied, the words coming automatically now. “Justice was served. That’s what matters.”
He studied her face like he didn’t quite believe her but wasn’t sure how to push without making things worse. “Mammon’s kingdom will be different from mine or Cain’s. Greed has its own particular flavour, its own way of measuring worth and value. Try to keep an open mind.”
“I will.”
“And Lilith?” He moved closer, his hand coming up to cup her face with familiar gentleness. “If you need anything while you’re there, if anything feels wrong or unsafe, you tell Mammon immediately. The spy might be dead, but that doesn’t mean you should let your guard down completely.”
The irony of that statement was almost painful. “I understand.”
He kissed her forehead and left, and Lilith was alone with the weight of everything she knew and couldn’t say pressing down on her chest until she could barely breathe.
The portal to Mammon’s kingdom opened in the main courtyard at midday. Lucian performed the activation, his mirror eyes reflecting the swirling gateway as it stabilized. Mammon himself stood waiting on the other side, visible through the opening, still favoring his injured ribs but looking stronger than when Lilith had last seen him.
She stepped through with Sera beside her, the familiar disorientation of portal travel making her stomach lurch. When her vision cleared, she found herself in a courtyard that made the Vestibulum look almost modest by comparison.
Everything gleamed. Gold fixtures, platinum accents, gems embedded in the very walls catching light and throwing rainbow patterns across polished marble floors. Wealth displayed not subtly but aggressively, a declaration that Greed could afford excess beyond imagination.
“Lady Lilith, Lady Sera, welcome to Avaros.” Mammon’s smile was genuine despite the pain evident in how carefully he held himself. “I apologize for not greeting you more formally, but the healers have forbidden unnecessary movement until my ribs finish mending.”
“Please don’t apologize.” Lilith managed a smile that felt like it belonged to someone else. “I’m grateful you’re willing to host us while you’re still recovering.”
“Nonsense. Having you here is valuable beyond measure.” He gestured for them to follow, leading them through corridors that dripped with opulence. Servants bowed as they passed, their uniforms somehow more expensive than anything Lilith owned. “Besides, I’ve been looking forward to showing you what Greed truly means beyond the simple accumulation of wealth.”
They were installed in guest quarters that rivalled anything Lilith had seen in Azrael’s kingdom. Her room alone was larger than her entire apartment back in the human realm had been, furnished with pieces that probably cost more than most people earned in a lifetime.
Sera let out a low whistle once the servants had left them alone. “Well, this is definitely different from Lucian’s kingdom. I don’t think anything here is reflective or designed to make you confront uncomfortable truths about yourself.”
“No, here it’s all about showing you exactly how much everything costs and making sure you know Mammon can afford it.” Lilith sank onto a chair that was somehow more comfortable than her bed back in the Vestibulum. “Greed measured in material excess.”
“You sound exhausted.” Sera moved to sit beside her, concern etched across her features. “And not just from the portal travel. What’s really wrong?”
Everything, Lilith wanted to say. The real spy is still active, I watched an innocent woman get executed for crimes she didn’t commit, and I can’t tell anyone because they already think I’m paranoid and unstable. Instead, she said, “Just tired. The execution was harder to watch than I expected.”
“That’s understandable. But Lilith, you need to actually process what happened instead of just pushing through like nothing’s wrong. The Head Maid betrayed you specifically, violated your privacy for months. You’re allowed to have feelings about that.”
If only Sera knew how complicated those feelings actually were. “I’ll process it. I promise. Just need some time.”
Sera didn’t look convinced but let it drop, helping Lilith unpack instead. They were finishing when a servant knocked to announce that dinner would be served in an hour, and Lord Mammon requested their presence.
The dining hall was exactly as excessive as everything else, a table that could seat fifty set for just three people. Mammon had changed into formal robes that somehow made his injuries less obvious, though Lilith noticed how carefully he moved as he stood to greet them.
“I thought we’d keep it intimate tonight,” he said, gesturing to seats near the head of the table. “Tomorrow I’ll give you the full tour of the capital, introduce you to merchants and guild leaders, and show you how Greed functions as an actual economic system rather than just hoarding. But tonight, I wanted to simply talk.”
The meal was elaborate, course after course of dishes that probably required master chefs and ingredients sourced from across multiple realms. Mammon talked about his kingdom’s recovery from Armageddon’s attack, about the repairs underway and the merchants who’d stepped up to fund reconstruction.
“Greed gets a bad reputation,” he said, pouring wine that probably cost more per bottle than most people’s yearly income. “People think it’s just about taking, accumulating, never being satisfied. But true Greed understands value, understands investment, understands that sometimes you have to spend resources to gain something more valuable in return.”
“Like rebuilding after an attack,” Lilith offered, trying to engage despite the exhaustion dragging at her.
“Exactly. I could hoard my wealth, refuse to spend it on repairs, and watch my kingdom crumble while my vaults stay full. But what’s the value in that? A rich king of ruins?” Mammon smiled. “No, real Greed knows when to invest, when the cost is worth paying for future returns.”
He was good at this, Lilith realized. At making his sin sound almost reasonable, almost virtuous in its own way. Just like Azrael made Pride seem like justified self-worth and Cain made Wrath seem like righteous anger. They’d all found ways to reframe their natures into something more complex than simple vice.
“You’re not eating much,” Mammon observed, his attention focused on Lilith with the intensity of someone who assessed value for a living. “And you’ve barely spoken beyond polite responses. I’d say the journey tired you, but portal travel doesn’t usually leave people this withdrawn.”
Lilith forced herself to take a bite of something that probably tasted amazing but turned to ash in her mouth. “I’m fine, just adjusting. A lot has happened in the past few days.”
“The execution.” Mammon’s voice was gentle. “Watching someone die for crimes against you specifically, that carries a cost most people don’t anticipate. Guilt, even when it’s not deserved. Relief mixed with horror. Satisfaction tainted with disgust at feeling satisfied.”
He was too perceptive. Greed’s ability to assess true value meant he could read what things actually cost people, not just in gold but in emotional currency. Lilith needed to be more careful or he’d see through her facades completely.
“It’s over now,” she said firmly. “The spy is dead. Everyone can move forward.”
Something flickered in Mammon’s expression, too quick for Lilith to identify. “Yes, I suppose they can.”
The rest of dinner passed in lighter conversation, Sera helping fill silences with observations about the kingdom’s obvious wealth. When they finally returned to their quarters, Lilith collapsed onto her bed fully clothed, too exhausted to even change into sleeping clothes.
Sera pulled a blanket over her. “Get some rest. Tomorrow will be better.”
But Lilith knew it wouldn’t be better. Tomorrow she’d wake up still knowing the truth about Machala, still carrying the weight of that knowledge alone, still having to pretend everything was fine while the real spy continued his work unopposed.
She closed her eyes and tried not to think about the wrongness of the blood on the execution platform, or the empty look in the Head Maid replica’s eyes, or the brief moment when she’d caught Machala watching the execution with barely concealed satisfaction.
Tried and failed, the same way she’d been failing to sleep properly since Theron’s confession had revealed that nothing was as safe as it seemed.
The cost of silence, she was learning, was higher than anyone realized. And she was paying it alone.