Page 26

They’ll have to devise a new plan for traveling to Fortune’s Crest. In the meantime, another hour passes. At which point, they reach a series of inlets.

Where the hell is he taking her?

She paddles after him and bumps into his rigid back. She’s about to snarl, but his paralysis stifles the impulse, as does the view.

One particular inlet pours into a lagoon. A natural footpath shrouded in frond bushes and fern trees surround the water. A tethered boat bobs above the surface, slender and long enough for one or two people.

A single cliff resides here, humble in height. The lagoon laps against a gap in the edifice—the entrance to a cavern, where vines lace the threshold.

Hidden. Dreamlike. Surreal.

The place robs Sorrow of breath. “What is this?”

Envy grins. “It’s my secret.”

7

Sorrow

During the first fifty years of their lives, bonding hadn’t been a priority. They’d been busy training, being bred for their respective purposes. Apart, they’d learned from their Guides the intricacies of the emotions they represented. Together, they’d had archery practice, plus lessons held within the misty coves to keep them occupied.

Outside of those obligations, Sorrow hadn’t been interested in where Envy went, or what he did, or who with. Though word of his popular antics circulated. He’d always been surrounded by admirers, both male and female, and he’d been a regular fixture at kinky picnics and oral soirees.

Yep, not Sorrow’s thing. Aside from training, she had preferred to be a young hermit while occasionally having some laughs with Love and Wonder.

Even after they came of age and left to serve the human world, shared secrets had been infrequent amongst their class, and virtually nonexistent between Sorrow and Envy.

Really, their band had only begun to connect after Love and Andrew’s story.

As such, Sorrow has no clue what to make of Envy’s statement. His secret? What does that mean? Since when?

Envy’s expression is one of pure and utter joy. A lumpy sensation gathers in Sorrow’s womb. It’s a queer feeling that she hasn’t been privy to before, unlike the familiar salt of tears, and the cello strum of loneliness, and the coarseness of grief. But this foreign reaction, she hasn’t been educated to identify. It’s a wad in her belly, and she doesn’t how to get rid of it.

Somehow, the unknown clump has to do with his countenance, his features reminiscent of a giddy child. A happy soul.

She shouldn’t like the visual of him joyous, the sentimentality of it. Besides, what did he call her on the boat? A black cloud? A killjoy?

At least she’s authentic. At least reality doesn’t skew her judgement, or ruin her foresight, or sugarcoat her hopes.

Anyhow. According to Envy, another name forsecretisrefuge.

“A secret refuge?” she criticizes. “As if you couldn’t get any more stuck-up.”

A grin coils through Envy’s voice as he knocks his shoulder against hers. “Do I detect the tang of jealousy?”

“Like hell would I do you that favor. What have you done out here? Hosted exclusive orgies? As if I’d have bent over backward for an invite to one of those.”

“I didn’t host such common affairs here,” Envy says while scanning the vicinity. “I was a guest at everyone else’s.” Ignoring Sorrow’s snort of derision, he adds absently, “And I’ve never brought any lovers here.”

The words trickle up her spine, but she dismisses the reaction before it reaches her brain. No sense in letting that go to her head. There’s hardly a reason for him to lie, but that doesn’t mean anything. She may be the exception, the rare ex-lover whom he’s brought to a secret refuge, but that’s because they’re on the run, and they need a place to rest.

Which is impossible considering the vessel near the entrance.

“We can’t stay here,” Sorrow cautions.

“Nonsense,” Envy pouts. “Of course, we can.”

“The boat—”