Page 14

After every orgasm, she’d mope afterward. To this day, Envy finds the notion offensive. There must be something wrong with her libido, because her fornicator’s remorse sure as shit isn’t his fault.

In any event, she’s Sorrow…Sorrow. Neither her roots, nor her former status, excuse Envy for degrading himself with her. He had tumbled off his high horse, and he’d fucking liked his high horse.

Fates forbid. He’d pounded her. Numerous times, in numerous ways, with numerous results.

Standing at the nexus of the boat, he sniffs audibly, though no one notices, which miffs him. But oh, so be it. There’s no reason to get upset. None whatsoever. He might not have the adaptability of Andrew, but thankfully, Envy lacks the short fuse of Anger and Malice. Frown lines on a pretty face are a travesty.

A pair of shimmering bluffs rises on either side of the boat as it floats down a slot in the middle. Vegetation crusts the formations, trimming them in filigrees of fuchsia. When the canal forks, Envy twists the pole and steers it down the southern passage, beyond which a summit rises, its range puckering toward the constellations.

It’s refreshing to navigate these arteries again. As a youth in the Peaks, and during his intermissions from the mortal realm, he spent his free time enjoying the waterbodies of this land, learning every surreptitious route and shortcut.

One watery enclave in particular.

To get there, he’d cruise a boat similar to this one, albeit slimmer and smaller.

Whereas Anger prefers the shallow, confined fluxes of mineral caves in order to mellow his temperamental fits, Envy prefers deeper ones. No, it’s not his passion. He simply appreciates the water, as he appreciates a fine suit and other indulgences, such as the exquisite sweetness of a ripe fruit, or the sight of a comely face, so long as it isn’t more handsome than his.

He enjoys living, especially living forever. It has its perks.

Fine, then. He might like more than three things.

“Someone tell Narcissus that we’d like to know where he’s taking us,” Sorrow says.

“You think I’m Narcissus?” Envy makes an inflated sound. “I’m appalled. That fictitious, mortal concoction doesn’t hold a candle to me. At least compare me to the weaving queen, Athena, for textile reasons.”

“I’ve heard only the most distinguished archers are compared to Greek myths, because those deities are an inspiration,” Merry interjects, glancing between them with a hopeful—pointless—beam. “I’ve heard it’s a great compliment to bestow.”

“No, you didn’t,” Anger says with knowing fondness.

“No, I didn’t,” Merry confirms dolefully, sagging into him.

Love grimaces. “If anyone were to call me Eros, I’d skewer them.”

“You shouldn’t,” Andrew tells her. “You’re subverting the myth with your badassery. Goddesses in those tales didn’t have much autonomy. They were tools to further the hero’s journey.”

“I’d rather be Love. Not someone else.”

A cute grin slides across Andrew’s face. “I’ve got no problem with that, either.”

“Please don’t start necking,” Sorrow groans. “We’re running for our lives, and anyway, I’m sitting right here. Furthermore, it’s bad luck in this land.”

Shortly following her birth, Merry was ostracized from the Peaks. She hasn’t returned until now and looks quite panicked. “You mean expressing our devotion to our soul mates is banned here?”

“She’s lying, dearest,” Wonder reassures her. “It’s a ruse to discourage public displays while in her company.”

“Christ. So the hell what? Why would we care if it were forbidden?” Malice asks. “What are they going to do? Banish us?” He taps his chin in mock thought. “Oh, wait. They’ve already done that—”

Wonder grabs Malice’s face and pries his lips open with her own, the pair lunging into an impressively subterranean kiss that shuts him up. The goddess pulls away with a contented sigh, elated by the glazed look on his face. She adjusts the wildflower corsage around her wrist, then pats the lavender tulle of Merry’s dress. “There, you see? Show all the devotion you want.”

Anger tugs Merry closer to him. “Gladly. Once we’re out of harm’s way.”

“Then you’ll be waiting a long time, mate,” Malice counters, all husky.

“Define ‘long’ in deity terms,” Andrew prompts.

Everybody contemplates, returning to the matter at hand. Very well, considering Sorrow’s request to know where they’re headed is fair enough.

The original plan had been set into motion when they trespassed into the Peaks from the mortal realm. Or actually, it started earlier. In just a handful of years, so much has transpired. For this trio of couples—Love and Andrew, Anger and Merry, Wonder and Malice—it’s a long, complicated, interconnected story across the board, but ultimately, they have each proven that deities can feel love.