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Sorrow clears her throat. “Well, then. Goodnight.”

Envy hooks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sweet dreams.”

She walks backward while staring at him, then hitches a ride with one of the winged creatures. Envy watches her shrink to a speck within a full moon. Doubtless, she’ll enjoy returning to her house on stilts, sleeping in fleece blankets.

Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, Envy heads toward the fortress’s threshold, then stops. A tiny silhouette perches on the lowermost rampart, the figure’s runty limbs swinging over the side. Sorrow wouldn’t have left so swiftly if she’d known he was here.

Malice and Wonder are about to leave, when Envy asks if he can hold on to the book for a while. After Malice threatens to castrate Envy if anything happens to the tome, the couple departs on their dragonfly.

When they’re gone, Envy changes direction and settles next to the child called Faith, who pouts at the blooming summit. His doleful expression contrasts with the buoyant gloss of his eyelashes. Also, he doesn’t react to Envy’s presence.

Together, they regard the panorama. “What’s got you so crabby?” Envy jokes, elbowing the moppet.

“I’m a good fighter,” Faith says.

Ah. That’s what’s bothering him. He’s crestfallen about being left out of the scrimmage. If Sorrow were here, she’d knock some sense into him.

“And whose side would you have chosen?” Envy asks.

“Neither,” the archer says. “I would have fought to stop all of you.”

“I know someone who’d agree with you. On that note, I like to think rebuilding is a better use of time than bloodshed. Care to help us resurrect the Hollow Chamber?”

That had been Wonder’s idea: Store the book in the Archives, the great library of the Peaks. More specifically, in the Hollow Chamber. The subterranean vault still lay in ruin, following that conflict between Wonder, Malice, and the Court months ago.

With peace on the horizon, they’ve agreed to rebuild that section of the Archives. A proper location to place the book.

The book which holds a brand-new legend.

A legend of their own making.

“I’ll tell you what.” Envy produces the tome and offers it to Faith. “Mind taking a look at this for us? We could use your feedback.”

The child accepts the book and swings his gaze toward Envy. “Why me?”

“Because I like your name more than mine.” Ruffling the archer’s hair, Envy stands and smooths out his ankle-length coat. “Though I still dress better.”

Faith compresses his lips, withholding a grin. “Then go impress someone who actually cares.” To illustrate, he flits his gaze toward the sky, to where Sorrow had disappeared.

Point taken. Envy throws back his head and laughs.

31

Sorrow

So much for getting some rest. Flinging aside the fleece blanket, she dresses and stalks out of the house. At the pier’s edge, the sea engulfs the stilts that prop up her home. The water trembles as it reflects planets and moons, and lanterns float across the depths, each one spurting flames.

Sorrow inhales the pure fragrance of starlight. Andrew had been right about the air smelling different in the Peaks. She hadn’t noticed the distinction before.

The breeze whips Sorrow’s skirt around her legs, the shredded material sweeping over her bare toes. She crosses her arms and rubs her pebbled flesh, even though she has no clue what cold feels like.

Or maybe it’s loneliness. She’s well-versed in that sensation.

Soon, daytime constellations will replace the night, trading a sky of evening violet for hydrangea blue. Sorrow groans. Her muscles ache like they never have, even by immortal standards, and the injuries from combat dig deeper than the ones she has given herself over the centuries.

But that’s not what keeps her from sleep.

For over two hundred years, she has been fine with living alone. She has been fine hogging the blanket and waking up without someone beside her.