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But of all deities, Malice knows what it means to be demoted, rejected, and banished. It’s new for Wonder. Yet he’s been living with this for thousands of years, for the majority of his life.

The notion buoys her in a way that shouldn’t be possible. Not after this blow. Nonetheless, that unyielding gaze fuels Wonder with conviction, reminding her of who she is, what she cares about, and why that’s worth it.

Let them drop her name on a piece of paper. Like her crew, who’ve all suffered in their own ways, she is more than just a leaflet of parchment. And if they can anthologize her life, Wonder can edit the contents by changing history.

Her story isn’t over yet. She has done awful things, but she has also done good in this world.

Face framed in Malice’s palms, Wonder nods. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he murmurs.

Nothing more. No teasing. No rants. And no questions.

He could ask about the human, the scars, and her crew’s role in the torture. Thank Stars, Malice doesn’t. Wonder is too frazzled to concoct a decent lie.

At any rate, he’s aware of celestial law. Rancor aside, Malice is educated enough to comprehend her crew had been commanded to punish Wonder. They’re not to blame so much as their leaders.

Still shaken, Wonder resumes her expedition with Malice. It will do her a disservice to shrivel up for the rest of the day. Even if she wanted to, Wonder has a feeling the demon wouldn’t let her.

They sojourn from corner to corner, leading one another to the points where they’ve stripped mysteries bare.

The majority have been taboo accounts, a rare few life-changing.

Growing increasingly distracted, Wonder presents a diminutive book camouflaged and tucked within a book, within a book, within a book.

It contains a list of forgotten supernovas.

In a rotating case, much like a rotating door, Malice fishes out a chronicle that only relinquishes its secret when treated like a flip book at the right speed.

From there, a code instructs readers on how to brew intoxicants that will glamour the drinker into committing treason on the mixer’s behalf.

There’s also a list of dark magic that will do everything from temporarily strip arrows of their power, create murderous toxins, forge curses, and expose a deity’s most sexual vagaries. These concealed pages materialize when readers pour a droplet of blood in the hardback’s crease.

One tome anthologizes confessions penned by ancient fugitives, which can only be read beneath a glass shard like a makeshift microscope.

Another manuscript invents riddles when doused by rain, practical for parlor games or when adversaries place bets.

And another volume reveals ancient maps of Stars that birthed historic rebels, which can be viewed when smeared in ink.

“In order to read it, you have to ruin it,” Malice explains.

At last, her sense of hope returns. Because the demon is adept at making her laugh, the mood grows animated as they find a common ground, exploring the stacks while bonding over locations, stories, and research.

Biographies of infamous deities, psychological analyses about dreams, and fiction romanticizing humans and deities in erotic scenarios are Malice’s guilty pleasures.

Prohibited and life-threatening travel accounts are Wonder’s default whenever she feels like procrastinating.

It becomes another game, however a diverting one this time. They go so far as to caution each other about which niches to pursue and which ones to disregard.

During a debate about the assets of human libraries, Wonder pauses near a recess and gestures toward an area housing ancient journals, intricate straps encasing the texts. The closures are so expertly tangled that it would take the utmost patience to unbind them.

“I’ve always wanted to tackle this section, but I haven’t progressed to it yet,” she says. “For the life of me, those straps are so… Malice?”

Now it’s the demon’s turn to stare. An unhealthy white pallor dulls his complexion as he regards the books, his foot arrested mid-step, his fist choking the banister.

Wonder’s gaze jumps between that stricken face and the titles wrapped like mummies. “Malice.”

The second her hand meets his elbow, he flinches, the floor vibrating beneath them. The demon’s chin cuts toward her, and his eyes taper. But to her surprise, something in her expression must tame him, because he shakes himself.

“It’s nothing,” Malice says. “Drop it.”

He stalks from the quarter, compelling Wonder to jog after him.

The hours have cycled swiftly, nightfall greeting them when they exit the Chamber.

His pace quickens, and she wants to probe, but she doesn’t.

He’ll only shout or cope by saying something offensive, disguising his troubles with lewd remarks.

Moon rays soak the dormitory foyer with eventide light as they halt at the landing. She wants to ask, but he’s not ready for that.

“I have a confession,” she says. “I forgot to keep score.”

His mouth quirks with humor. “Slacker.”

“But we don’t make a bad team.”

“Not too shabby.”

“We could become a force to be reckoned with. But we won’t get anywhere unless we work together.”

These hours have thrown Wonder’s suspicions into disarray, contesting her misgivings about his intentions.

The more she discovers about Malice, the more she ponders whether he means long-term harm.

His quest could be personal and have nothing to do with their world or satisfying a grudge about his banishment.

Maybe it’s something simpler, having to do with his past life.

In that case, the legend she found will help. And if this hunch is correct, they won’t prevail in either of their goals. Neither in her crew’s campaign, nor whatever he’s hunting for.

Malice contemplates Wonder’s proposition. “Fuck it. Count me in, but I’m still a better researcher.”

“I think not,” she declares as he walks away. “Malice?”

The demon halts, swerving his head over his shoulder. “That’s me.”

“Why did you…?”

Why did he comfort her? Why did he come rushing? Why had he cared?

Yet the questions clot Wonder’s throat. It’s been a trying day, and she doesn’t have the energy to weather whatever answer he gives, which could amount to one of his riddles, a practical reason, or something destructive.

Wonder opts for a safer inquiry. “In the forest,” she begins. “Why did you jump in front of me when the elder took that shot?”

Why did Malice throw himself into that arrow’s path, and for someone he despises? Then again, perhaps this inquisition is just as precarious. Though, it’s too late to backtrack.

Processing the question, the demon gets cocky. “Meh. I like the rush of cheating death. And I just wanted to annoy our visitor.”

Inaccurate. He’d attempted to slaughter her Guide. Regardless, Wonder isn’t going to browbeat the issue. Moreover, she never identified Harmony to him, hardly trusting Malice and his murderous instincts. Soon enough, Wonder will let him know that, in addition to everything else she’s hiding.

“Well, whatever the reason. I appreciate it,” Wonder concedes, then replays herself curled and crying in his arms. “And thank you… for earlier.”

Malice hesitates, his brows furrowing. “You okay, then?”

“I am now. You helped.”

As the Goddess of Wonder, it must be her overactive imagination. Like a mirage, his pupils flicker with something akin to satisfaction.

But a second later, Malice shrugs. “I don’t usually hear that.”

“Your name said without rancor?”

“No,” he admits. “Thank you.”

The reply lances her ribcage. Unlike now, there was indeed a time when mortals often said this to him.

“Forgive my pretension, but gratitude is earned,” she replies gently. “It requires doing selfless things for other people. You could try it more often.”

Malice wavers, then crooks his lips. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Sigh. With wistful amusement, Wonder shakes her head as he disappears into his chamber. In her own sanctuary, she changes into a nightgown, the satin caressing her flesh.

Wonder sinks into the mattress, replaying the afternoon.

It’s been an eventful twenty-four hours.

The bath. His fingers. Her orgasm. The library.

Her tears. His embrace. Their reconciliation.

His wisecracks making her chortle despite what she discovered in that book.

The visions cycle through her mind until the evening blurs into nothingness.

And then the world explodes back to life. A beastly roar cleaves through Wonder’s dreamscape like an axe, launching her from the mattress. Gasping out of her slumber, she knows that mutiny coming from Malice’s room.

It’s the sound of a nightmare.