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Envy ducks an incoming arrow, then squints beyond the crenellations to follow Malice’s trajectory. All becomes evident. He’s homing in on the cloaked ruler who’d shot him months ago, nearly ending his life.

The more ground Malice covers, the more violent his speed. The Court member doesn’t see Malice coming until the demon god tackles him with the force of a battering ram. They roll in a flurry of arms and limbs, lanterns shattering in their wake.

When the ruler identifies his adversary, his brows pitch in shock and remorse, then slant in defensiveness. Shit. Malice has muscles and calculation on his side, but from the looks of it, he isn’t about to use either trait wisely against the sovereign. He’s too rife with vengeance to think straight.

“Wonder!” Envy roars, but she’s already got Malice in her line of sight. Diving from the tree, she races across the ground and reaches the brawl just as Malice cracks the ruler’s jaw, blood spurting even from this distance. The monarch has already done a number on Malice as well, both of them covered in welts and cuts.

When Malice fastens the male to the flowering field, he steals one of the ruler’s lava rock arrows and raises it, ready to plunge the tip into the victim’s heart. Just like that same victim had once done to Malice.

Wonder scrambles to a halt and shrieks, “Malice, no!”

No. Not like that.

At the sound of her voice, Malice freezes while glowering down at the ruler. Envy is too far to confirm, but he imagines that demon god’s face twitching with as much temptation as resilience. Eventually, Malice drops the arrow and drives his fist into the male’s visage three times, rendering the monarch unconscious.

Wonder hauls Malice to his feet. The tag team lunges into a clumsy hug, then hurtles into the scrimmage while keeping close to one another.

Envy whips his gaze around, assessing the devastation. Piloted by deities, the fleet of dragonflies whoosh around the stargazer, which stands proud and unblemished, its telescope craning. Patches of flames erupt from the lanterns and slither across the underbrush. The fortification walls crumble in numerous places.

Andrew and Love are a magnetic pair. The former shoots a cluster of frost arrows from his crossbow, creating an opaque fog. The effect blinds Love’s opponents, so that her kicks make quick work of them, a trio of archers toppling around her.

Although Love has regained the power to infuse her arrows with love itself, she curtails the magic.

Anger, who also recouped his power months ago, operates with the same restraint. Although he could defuse his assailants’ tempers, he refuses to take such advantage. That would only paint him as a hypocrite.

As iron arrows fly from his weapon, he dilutes the magic, relying instead on aim and velocity.

He fights steadily. That is, until an archer targets Merry.

At which point, hysteria contorts Anger’s profile. He reels his longbow toward the archer.

But then a dragonfly lowers itself before Anger, commanded by a silhouette wielding an agate arrow—which punctures his stomach.

28

Envy

Time stops. So does Envy’s heart.

He watches as the scene plays in slow motion. Pain tears Anger’s eyes wide open, the pupils fattening like blisters while crimson dribbles from the wound. Staring ahead in a daze, his knees hit the foundation.

No.

Just. No.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No!

Time speeds up. It happens too fast.

Anger, nodding at Envy in encouragement during training. Anger, keeping their class calm after Wonder’s torture. Anger, thinking that none of them except Love knows that he’s afraid of snowstorms. Anger, protecting Love’s secret when she defied her rulers for Andrew. Anger, banished for caring about his peers more than his sovereigns. Anger, looking at Merry as if she’s every star in the universe. Anger, rallying hundreds of archers. Anger, offering a rare laugh when Envy manages to tease him.

Anger. His friend.

With a snarl, Envy nocks his weapon. The twang of a string looses another shot toward his friend, which Envy blocks.

And a third shot, stymied this time by a wooden arrow.

Malice’s arrow. The god lands beside Envy, his bow poised and his breathing erratic. Behind the shredded sleeve of his leather sweater, his fletching-and-quill tattoo contorts with his movements.