Page 11

Wonder

She has done a few stupid things in her life, not limited to breaking rules, which has led to encroaching on restricted places. But the foolish part isn’t that she actually took such actions. No, it’s that she had eventually gotten caught.

Wonder would muse at present, but she doesn’t have time. For this is another stupid moment, and she’s truly getting tired of those.

Her fingers choke the bow, and the tip of her quartz arrow tracks every breath he takes. All the while, his gaze trains on the pulsating button at her throat. Like a glutton, Malice feasts on her reaction, another window of opportunity, an attempt to see through her.

Wonder hardens her features into stone. She’d heard him right, the part about abducting each other. Though, she wouldn’t have used such hyperbole. “You’ve been reading too many Greek myths,” she insists.

“I’ve been engrossed,” he acknowledges. “I’m a sucker for a page turner, especially if there are multiple smut scenes. Christ, lower your weapon. It’s blocking my view of your mouth.”

“I should use this arrow to cut out your tongue.”

“You would miss my tongue. You’d miss it so much.” Malice skids an index finger back and forth across the chair arm. “As to my hiding places, shh. It’s a surprise. And now you know what that feels like.”

Checkmate. Because she confiscated his letters and archery, this demon god believes in equal payback. An eye for an eye.

Wonder doesn’t want to go anywhere with him. Yet his destination is clear. Therefore, she must.

Just as she’s been fearing, gaining the upper hand in the conflict between fate and free will relies on more than just allies. To come out victorious, additional research is crucial, for Wonder has reached her limits in the mortal world.

A vision of home manifests in her mind. Wonder imagines The Dark Fates, with its moonlit cliffs, hills carpeted in celestial flowers beneath a sky buzzing with raptors and dragonflies. Nestled within the sylvan valley of those bluffs is a repository.

The Archives.

And deep within that structure is a forbidden cellar, a channel of ethereal secrets.

The Hollow Chamber.

That’s where Malice intends to go. Like Wonder, this god used to be a frequenter of The Archives, a masterful patron of its secrets.

She has also learned from past events that Malice is desperate to return to The Dark Fates, pent up enough to manipulate and endanger anyone in order to succeed.

His reasons for that are cryptic. But whatever the demon’s ultimate goal, and however much they loathe each other, Malice requires her company.

Against their wills, they’ll have to do this as a unit or be at an impasse.

One, trespassing is unlawful. Two, it’s deadly.

They’ll be recognized within an instant of planting their feet on the soil. Without a contingent behind them, it’s suicide. Not that Wonder can bring the crew into this when two infiltrators are quieter than a handful. What’s more, her kindreds don’t know The Archives as Wonder does.

But three, this should be a moot subject. As exiles, they’ve lost the ability to transport themselves there.

If it weren’t for the Asterra Flora.

Wonder scowls. She can’t be seriously considering this. In The Dark Fates, they’ll be outnumbered and outarmed. They cannot, simply cannot…

A grin worms across Malice’s face. He reclines as best as he can in the rocking chair, his leather jacket fitted to whipcord muscles and split open at the throat, the low neckline hinting at a smooth, naked torso and the shadows of his collarbones.

“No,” Wonder forces out.

“Yes,” Malice murmurs. “Aren’t you the least bit homesick?”

“We won’t last three seconds.”

“Come, now. At least, five. Long enough for me to spit on the ground.”

“We’ll be surrounded before I can drive a blade into your gut.”

“It’s Stellar Worship,” he points out.

Wonder goes silent. By some force, she had forgotten this.

Every three hundred years, deities in The Dark Fates retire for a month of tranquil worship, in which they pay introspective homage to The Stars.

This intermission includes the librarians, custodians, scribes, and keepers who reside in The Archives.

During this respite, they lock down the library and retreat to their homes by the sea.

With the institution vacant, it’s the perfect time to trespass, leaving Wonder and Malice secluded together, able to peruse without interruption.

And without backup in case this demon tries to plant a weapon in her back. That is, unless he provokes her to stab him first.

Malice’s blond waves spill across his forehead. He digs his nails into the chair arm, as he’d done while entombed in nightmares. “You haven’t asked me about the pomegranate.”

“And spoil your fun?” she retorts. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“I would. Dares are so daring. I’ll give you the abridged version. Before I was banished, I had a palate for pomegranate seeds.” His eyes drift toward the fire pit, an accordion of confusion crimping his brows. “For some reason, they tasted nostalgic.”

Wonder keeps her features neutral. The comment might be verification or a mere coincidence.

Malice shakes off the recollection. “Let’s just say exiles burn a lot of calories. On the eve of my banishment to the human realm, I was famished. Were you aware that pomegranates grow in The Dark Fates?”

She tapers her eyes. “Don’t insult me.”

“Think you know everything, do you? That’s a pity.

Life’s more fascinating when there are constantly new things to learn.

Apparently, that’s what contributes to growth of character.

In my intellectual opinion, the most confident thing a person can say is ‘I don’t know.

’ Unfortunately, most would rather convince themselves they know what’s what in every scenario, merely going off assumptions and hearsay.

Pretty lazy and unscholarly. Don’t you agree? ”

“The day I agree with you on anything is the day I go straight to hell.”

“Can I come with you? I’d hate to be left out.”

“Stop talking in circles and get to the point!”

Malice shrugs. “To the point, I kept a pomegranate from our origins and brought it here with me. Isn’t it lovely how long it takes immortal fruit to decay?

Mine had an impressive expiration date, enabling me to give a home in the library courtyard.

I’m sure you’ve noticed how tall it’s grown.

” His voice thickens like melted chocolate laced with wine.

“Have you tried one yet? Tasted the tartness of my seed?”

If Wonder doesn’t step back, she’s going to smack that foul mouth so hard she’ll tear a new hole in his face.

She deliberates whether to voice this threat, but uttering the word hole —or any such adaptation—for Malice to dabble with is a terrible idea.

He’ll chew up the term and regurgitate it into something obscene.

The worst part is she’d known all along something like this would happen. From the beginning, Wonder had anticipated Malice would have an unforeseen trick up his sleeve. She just hadn’t expected his plan to involve her.

Yet the demon possesses a means to get them to The Dark Fates, a key to accessing The Archives since the Asterra Flora can breach locks. And a book diva she might be, but her enemy knows as much as she does, his flair for curating knowledge on par with her own.

Wonder would get far without Malice. But with him, she’d get even farther. And whatever he’s searching for in The Archives, Malice evidently needs her too. Otherwise, he would have been long gone by now. Thus, her participation is the lesser of the evils.

And oh, she cannot deny it. To smell all those pages again, to walk those magical halls, hunting for a way to empower her crew.

Wonder rounds her shoulders. “Where is my corsage?”

“Where are my letters?” he counters.

“You’ll get them. Provided I receive what’s mine first.”

“Mmm. I didn’t have you pegged as an amateur liar.”

Damnation. She cannot give him the letters until she discovers their contents, and she cannot discover their contents without bringing the envelopes along to view the invisible ink, and she cannot bring them along without Malice knowing where they’re stashed on her person.

Certainly not while enroute through dangerous territory.

She’ll have to concede, then steal the envelopes back when they’re isolated in The Archives. Malice will be too busy ransacking the stacks to monitor his property day and night.

“Very well,” she blusters. “The corsage for the letters.”

“Done,” Malice says. “I do fancy fair trades.”

No, he does not. “When do we—”

“Now works for me. My schedule is clear. How’s your calendar? Are you wide open, Wildflower?”

Wonder takes a threatening step forward. “Let’s get one thing straight. My name is Wonder. Not Wildflower.”

“You say that like it’s a euphemism instead of an endearment.

I’d debate the matter, but if your warrior mates realize you’re here, they’ll stop by at any second, high on an adrenaline kick and spoiling for an intervention.

Either way, it’s this or nothing; we go together, or we don’t go at all.

See how quickly your posse flounders in their campaign for free will, humanity, etcetera.

” The veneer of amusement drops, and he raises his shackled wrists. “Now hurry the fuck up.”

“What do you need me for?” she refutes. “Open the restraints yourself. You have the Asterra Flora.”

“I have a phial of it, not a pint.”

“And just how did you retrieve that vessel?”

“What? You think The Stars didn’t help me out when I beseeched them?”

That’s precisely what she thinks. However, The Stars have their own undisclosed reasons for who they do—and don’t—assist. Therefore, she might be wrong.

But then Malice sighs. “Rubbed the petal and seed together, which created a droplet, which I coated on the manacles. After that, I borrowed a phial from the library cafe. Satisfied?”

“You will never satisfy me,” Wonder affirms, realizing her error too late.