Page 116

“I didn’t mean to. I would never hurt—”

“Dammit, I know!”

“I love you!” Sorrow cries.

That, Envy hadn’t known. He really hadn’t because he stumbles, slipping on the words and almost going down. Sorrow does, too.

Getting a second wind, Envy charges. In the lake’s center, she flings herself against his naked torso. He catches her, his arms open and then crushing her to him. Thrown together, they’re a clinging, trembling, gasping mess.

The celestials drop around them, fracturing the cliffs and walloping the water. This could be it. Exposed like this, they’re clear targets.

But at least they’ve made one more choice. At least they’ve chosenthisbefore it was too late.

Bowing their heads, they hold tight.

Soon enough, more sets of arms sling around them, expanding the circle. The familiar scents of friendship envelop Sorrow. Whiffs of pine, and mint, and sandalwood, and vanilla, and peonies, and leather.

Love. Andrew.

Anger. Merry.

Wonder. Malice.

Tears pinch at Sorrow’s eyes. As one, their band forms a ball of light—their very own star. They wait, and wait, and wait.

The quaking ceases. The ringing vanishes.

And the stars stop falling.

30

Envy

Silence. Nothing but complete silence.

They might as well be submerged under water. It feels as if the world has gone to sleep, the sensation ethereal yet earthly.

A body shuffles in his arms. Envy stares down at the face peeking from behind a curtain of hair. Sorrow blinks, her bottomless pupils reflecting his. When he strokes her cheeks, she nuzzles into him. At the contact, noise lurches to the forefront, breaking the surface.

First, her breath stirring with his.

Second, the brush of leaves, grass, and flowers.

Third, the ripple of water as it licks through his trousers.

Envy lifts his head. Sorrow follows suit. And so do their friends.

Small craters glazed in stardust disfigure the summit, white flames pinch the air from broken lanterns, and the glowing motes take up residence in the trees, like strings of fairy lights. It’s the approximation of a majestically gruesome wasteland.

The dragonflies return, cautious as they hover above the stargazer. The great monument to the Fates, which stands pristine under the hemisphere.

In the midst of that, footfalls approach. Detangling themselves, Envy and his friends break from their huddle to inspect the summit fully. They find themselves the rapt focus of every gaze on this cliff—including the five bedraggled and injured rulers who hobble nearby. Slowly filing along the water’s edge, a bleeding drove of archers marvel at the scene: a small pack of rebel deities, who’d embraced during a shower of stars.

None of the monarchs appear stoic or regal, only dazed. The promise of a smile graces the ebony-skinned goddess, her torn butterfly gown flapping in the wind.

Like his friends, Envy’s gaze travels from sovereigns, to mentors, to archers. Siren. Echo. Harmony. Even Anger’s Guide, Tempest.

Pity, Kindness, Surprise, Confidence, Courage, Trust, Confusion, Guilt, Hope, and Joy.