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He shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks on his heels, waiting for the female beside him to take the initiative. “We might have to draft terms and conditions. For example, I should be permitted to request my pain, like an appetizer from a menu. What options do you have in mind? I’ll choose.”

Leaning against the wall, Sorrow says, “What’s your most embarrassing moment?”

His brows slam together. “I see,” he sneers. “Am I giving you too much credit? Or am I to believe this is the most you think I can take?”

Her irises flash. As for her voice, it sounds like a shadow, aerial and overpowering. “If we’re going to do this, I have one condition: Don’t bullshit me.”

The archeress’s transformation is nothing short of astounding, nothing short of a goddess. Though on second thought, she sounds like a goddess who has lived and served in the vicinity of mortals. Comes with the territory.

“You’d be surprised the lengths people will go, in order to avoid humiliation, the pain they’ll endure,” she continues. “You’re the God of Envy. Like it or not, our root emotions are more synonymous than we want. You know what lengths humans and immortals will go to, just to spare themselves of disgrace. So again: What was your most embarrassing moment?

“If you answer like a smart ass, or if you concoct a fib as high maintenance as your face, I’ll know. That’s my job, pretty god.” She taps his lips. “Sadness never lies.”

Her prompt incites a restlessness in his limbs. From soles, to kneecaps, to thighs, he feels an urge to flee.

There’s also an eagerness to tease and, thus, divert. Of course, that’s what a coward would do. Like she said, she’ll see right through it.

He’s beginning to doubt this impulsive arrangement. Who the Fates asks to be educated in the mechanics of pain?

Someone who has dared to. Someone with a bone to pick against his enemies. Someone who wants to be conditioned, prepared for pain, so that he knows how to avoid it during this war. Someone who will know hownotto break.

Someone like her.

What was his most embarrassing moment?

Envy opens his mouth, but Sorrow increases the pressure of her finger. “Don’t say it aloud,” she instructs. “Just think about it, then tell me if you want to. Pain is a private thing.”

“So is pleasure,” he murmurs against her digit. “Unless we’re keen to share it.” He bites her finger, his teeth scraping the flesh.

It’s a gentle graze. And it’s only fair.

Sorrow yanks her finger away. Envy grins as she wipes the digit on those pajamas, jostling the clouds.

What boggles him is that he doesn’t need time to think about his embarrassing moment, circa adolescence. The instant she had propositioned him, the answer infested his consciousness.

An ugly god is easy to spot.

Which is why he’s grateful that she’d stopped him before he complied, before he said something he’d regret for eternity. Something he’d promised himself never to impart with her.

Situated among the cavern’s layout, there are multiple adjoining hollows, providing multiple methods of retreat.

Beneath the banners of cloth that loop from the ceiling, Envy pauses and regards her. “I’m not tired.”

“Neither am I,” Sorrow says.

For the life of him, that response sends a bolt crashing through his stomach. He remains calm, debonair as his hand swings toward the hearth. “Care to sit?”

***

And so it goes. Night yields to day, the hours seeping from one to the next.

For a start, Sorrow redresses his wound while explaining the various ways to nurse injuries, from cracked bones to punctures to gashes. She has learned from her mentor, as well as from immortal healers. Fixing what’s broken and watching it mend provides her with solace.

Envy says nothing, because he can’t say anything. All he can do is examine her bent head as she ministers to him.

Who knew first-aid could be this surreal? Nor this enticing?

They huddle in front of the flames, settling in a cocoon of pillows and cushions. They fill the space with verbal nonsense, Sorrow ribbing Envy for the hearth, since temperature is elusive to their kind. Envy responds with colorful defenses that have her sniggering. They make random jokes about the mysteries of heat and cold.