Page 101

Slumping into the cliff wall, they catch their breaths. Envy’s first inclination is to touch her face, to lavish her with an endearment, to make her laugh. Unfortunately, Sorrow wiggles from him so fast that it’s déjà vu all over again.

He’s so nonplussed that he doesn’t bother to stop her. They shuffle their clothes into place while gearing up for another…whatever this has become.

His throat goes sore. Out of options, witticisms, and flirtations, he spreads his arms, then lets them drop. “What did I do wrong?”

Her eyes mist. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not lying!”

“You’ve been treating me like a reptile since the enclave!”

They go in circles, hollering persistent things and evasive things that he can’t keep track of. Sorrow marches past him, but he snatches her arm and whips her around. In the piebald light, he glares at her, wounded, helpless, and enraged. All the infernal makings of romantic angst.

He wants to shout at her more, kiss her more. Either would be difficult, seeing as their classmates are jogging up behind them, having overheard the quarrel.

Love, Andrew, Anger, Merry, Wonder, and Malice skid to a halt, pausing on the fringes. But Envy doesn’t care who’s here, who’s watching.

All he cares about isher.

Sorrow’s voice buckles. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t what? Kiss me back? Want me back?” he shouts. “Love me back?”

Stunned silence from their friends. Not even a peep from Merry.

Condemnation, it just came out.

Sorrow’s pupils explode with shock. Her lips quaver until a steely resolve takes over. “But I don’t,” she says. “I don’t love you. I never have.”

Her attention darts to the group, each of whom remain speechless. “And I’m sorry.”

Envy releases her, the declaration stinging him. Despite the knife to his chest, he frowns. “What does that mean? What do you mean, you’re sorry?”

Sorrow retreats a step closer to the gusty precipice. “You wanted to know pain.”

“What the Fates, Sorrow? What does that mean?”

“It means, you should have left her tied to the tree.”

Materializing beside her is a goddess of ebony skin, her height swathed in a gossamer gown, weapons forged of pearl strapped to her lithe figure.

A royal goddess of the stars. A member of the Fate Court.

26

Sorrow

It happens in this rugged, stony cleft, like so many things have happened lately amidst these cliffs. Her pulse is a thrumming gong. Nearby, lanterns burnish the summit. Below, the sea plunges into rapids that smash against the crags.

Shrouded here, the rest of the encampment can’t detect what’s transpiring.

The ruler stands alone, the butterfly folds of her gown whisking in the breeze. She glances placidly at Sorrow’s clan, who each scramble to raise their weapons. But so long as the sovereign refrains from wielding her longbow, they won’t shoot.

Stricken, they digest the goddess’s presence. And Sorrow’s presence beside her.

“Sorrow?” Envy asks, but when she fails to respond, he does the math. His complexion blanches, realization dawning. His baritone recedes to a whisper, a shadow of his normal voice. “No.”