A Matter of Pride

By Hannah Carter

Being one of the Seven Deadly Sins wasn’t supposed to be easy, but Pride thought it would be a heck of a lot simpler than this.

It started when his sister, Envy, bet that she could find one person he couldn’t taint. Seemed like a straightforward win, considering most humans were corruptible beasts.

Until Cresella.

Pride rubbed his temple as he stared at this seeming paragon of virtue. His deadline was almost up, and she’d not once given into his darker nature.

The shy little mage before him sniffled, tears dripping into her enchanted stitchwork.

“Cresella, for the love of all that is holy—” words Pride didn’t use lightly— “tell your mother to stop taking advantage of your magic!”

Cresella shook her head. “I can’t.” She stabbed at the next hole in her needlework. “I’ve told you. I don’t want to become your arrogant little plaything.”

Pride sighed, teetering on defeat. If only he didn’t have his—well, himself at stake. But bet or no bet, he couldn’t let her mother abuse her anymore. Someone had to teach that witch a lesson.

“Your mother sells the spells you stitch and steals all the profits.” Pride’s voice shook with barely-contained rage—but he was not his elder brother, so he refused to succumb to it completely. “Doesn’t it irk you? Your designs are famous, but you don’t get any of the glory or wealth.”

“I don’t need glory.” Cresella’s shoulders drooped. “Or money.”

Groaning, Pride flopped back in his seat. His dark curls fell into his eyes, and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Cresella!”

Pride started and cast a magic shield, which would prevent anyone but Cresella from seeing him—especially Corrance, the devil of a woman that called herself Cresella’s mother. She bustled in, skirts flouncing, and a hat resembling a doily perched on her head. “Are you not done yet? Count Rhoday needs his spell!”

“Not yet.” Cresella’s eyes darted from her mother to Pride, and she slouched into the chair.

“You are ruining our family’s reputation,” Corrance hissed. “First you give the duchess a spell that turns her hair white instead of blonde, and now you keep the Count waiting? Our name will be dragged through the mud.”

Cresella fought back tears. “I-I’m sorry—”

“Sorry?” Corrance clutched Cresella’s cheeks. “Don’t apologize. Stop your lollygagging and finish.”

Cresella’s fingers shook, and she missed a stitch. A puff of magic exploded from the fabric.

Corrance rolled her eyes heavenward. Her face turned red, and—

Slap.

The room fell silent, save for the echo of the blow that still rang in Pride’s ears.

“Now, wait just a ruddy minute!” Pride released his invisibility spell and stood up so fast the chair clattered to the ground behind him.

Corrance shrieked as his handsome visage appeared in front of her.

Cresella touched the mark on her face with one hand and clutched her needlework with the other.

Pride jabbed his finger into Corrance’s chest. “You, dear lady, are in the presence of a Deadly Sin, and somehow you’re still the most prideful creature in the room.” He poked her again, hard. “You are a swindler, a bully, and you don’t deserve to be the mother of such a gentle creature.”

He backed Corrance up against the wall.

Her eyes sparked, and she drew back her hand as if she intended to slap him, too. “Listen here—”

Cresella intercepted her mother’s wrist. “No, Mother.” Her voice shook. “You listen.”

Corrance and Pride both turned to Cresella, mouths agape.

Cresella took a deep breath. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on my friend. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be trapped in the lies that you have told me since infancy—that I am worth nothing, and my only purpose in life is to raise our family station and to make you look good. I have been petrified of saying anything, fearful of becoming you if I opened my mouth. But it ends today.” Cresella’s chest heaved, but she raised her chin. “I am not due anything except human decency, and you have failed even that.”

How odd, this feeling of—well, pride—that welled in Pride. For once, it wasn’t directed at himself.

“I will not finish Count Rhoday’s stitchwork. If you want his money, do it yourself.” Cresella tossed the unfinished spell onto the ground and stomped on it. Purple puffs of magic exploded from it, and she sniffed. “I am leaving.” She stormed from the room.

“Don’t follow us, either,” Pride hissed, stepping closer to the door. “Or I’ll make sure some of my more unsavory friends make your life a living hell. Literally.”

With one jaunty salute, he darted down the steps and followed Cresella into the sunlight. She’d paused on the cobblestones, face turned toward the sky like a caged bird now freed.

He cleared his throat and approached her. “I’m, you know… proud of you.”

Cresella turned. Light danced in her strawberry-blonde curls. “You stood up for me,” she whispered. “Thank you. Nobody’s ever done that before.”

Pride straightened his collar. “Yes, well… you’re worth sticking up for.”

“I still find that hard to believe,” Cresella murmured. “I’m not anything too spectacular. Just a normal girl with a simple trade.”

Pride had to swallow a great deal of himself to whisper: “Not to me.”

Tears welled in Cresella’s eyes. She wrapped her arms around him and blubbered right into his silk shirt. Likely ruined it, too.

Pride rubbed her back.

Yes, he’d definitely lost the bet.

But somehow, as Cresella clung to him, he felt the first tiny ember of self-worth ignited in her heart. Perhaps losing some of his own pride didn’t seem so bad a price to pay.

“Take it from one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Believing in your own self-worth doesn’t make you prideful.” Cupping her chin in his hands, Pride lifted it until her eyes met his. “It makes you powerful.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hannah Carter is just a girl who wakes up every day hoping it will be the day she discovers she’s secretly a mermaid. Her work has been included in several anthologies: Whispers From Before, The Depths We’ll Go, Havok’s Prismatic, and Finding God in Anime. Her short story, “Lara,” won a competition, and she has two published novellas, “Amir and the Moon” and “Seashells.”

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