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Wonder exits the room and rushes to her chamber. She needs to peel off these garments before she does something stupid like trace the satin contours. Stars, his hooded gaze practically branded itself into the material, so that she feels his stare all over her.

She rips off the nightgown, then dresses in a hurry, choosing pants nipped at the ankles and a blouse. To complete the look, Wonder affixes her locks into a ponytail.

At last, she harnesses her archery. Dangers abound outdoors, as they do indoors. Nevertheless, she selects one peril over another, because research can wait. In other words, she needs air.

Among the valley’s woodland, the great library rises into the sky. Distant beech trees soar into the hemisphere while their roots thread into the grass, the environment half celestial landmark, half sylvan shrine.

Even a goddess needs a hiatus, or a holiday, or at least a siesta.

Numerous courtyards house fountains and solariums outfit the exterior, and since it’s too risky to venture into the wilderness, Wonder takes a channel to a lowermost level quad abutting the dormitory tower.

At an arched doorway leading outside, she pauses, a gasp jumping from her lips.

This vast gated area should be furnished in polished tiles, intricate masonry, and carpets of verdant grass.

Indeed, the latter is there. However, the rest has disappeared, replaced by curtains of coiling vines, an arcade of trees with shingled leaves, and countless blooming patches.

Daisies. Lupines. Yarrow. Asters. Wildflowers of the human realm, along with species from their realm, with star shapes and petals, everything speckled in dewdrops.

Although starlit metallics paints her world, this environment bursts with vivid color, the sight robbing her of breath.

It’s an arboretum. The sort of place she’s always dreamed of living, if not in a library. This garden extends for what seems like acres, enclosed by a troop of willows and giant hedges, and a small bridge arches over a stream while cushioned benches outfit the niches.

Overwhelmed, Wonder drapes a palm on her chest. “Oh, my.”

It hasn’t been so long since her banishment, but this area hadn’t looked like this before. Did the keeper renovate? Having decided to break up the hardscape, had they replaced select quads with gardens? Or perhaps this is some kind of trap, a cunning temptation, though that doesn’t make sense.

Recalling what Malice had warned about being caught off guard, Wonder stands vigil on the threshold, scanning the vicinity for signs of activity. The ring of a deity’s voice, the crackle of bracken, or the twang of a bowstring.

There’s nothing but the serene drone of dragonflies, the glowing creatures veering through the boughs, their organza wings flitting. At this hour, they’re content to hunt pollen and chase the dawning light.

That alone relaxes her muscles. Dazed, she wanders on bare feet into the garden. Yellow petals and verdant leaves rain to the ground like confetti, showering her upturned gaze and tugging her mouth into an awed smile.

Excited to explore, she travels deeper into the landscape. Along the way, she touches every smooth and fringed blossom, inhaling their fragrant perfumes. Primroses and a host of other fresh aromas. A weight falls from her chest, the discovery lightening Wonder’s steps.

A poppy glade spreads before her, and the brook carves through soil, water bubbling over stones and lapping against blackberry shrubs.

Her stomach grumbles, because it’s been a while since her last proper nourishment.

On the way, she collects a sprig of edible crocuses, the stems tart and the petals drizzling sugar on her tongue.

Whenever not perched on the moonlit hill, Wonder used to love gathering bouquets. Life was simple then, though not nearly as rich.

She locates a knot in one of the tree trunks.

It’s hardly a challenge, especially from so few paces away, but she’s not in the mood to be picky.

Nocking her bow, she cranks her arm and lets a quartz arrow fly.

The tip slams into the center and vanishes in a splash of light, the weapon reappearing in her quiver.

After a few rounds, Wonder feels secluded enough to challenge herself. She spins and shoots, targeting the same spot while in motion. The dragonflies play along, acting as mobile hindrances, swerving to thwart her aim.

Laughing, she looses a final arrow. It whistles, slicing the air. However, the sound doubles as another projectile shears past her, torquing from behind. It punctures the willow, landing beside her arrow.

Wonder registers the two-pronged scepter fletching before it vanishes.

Whipping around, she aims her bow at the dark figure slouched against a willow.

Rumpled, gilded hair clashes with the male’s murky silhouette, his unclad chest flexes beneath an open leather jacket, and he taps the neck of a longbow against his hip.

Fates. If his relaxed posture after taking that shot is any indication, the demon god moves with formidable agility.

She has often admired the choice of black poplar for his weapons. The rustic appearance is modest, a deceptive contrast to its power.

The demon watches her. There’s something compelling about the obscurity of his features, screened off despite the break of morning.

Against her better judgment, this encounter reminds Wonder of fictional scenes between a heroine and a villain, that first inciting incident when they meet.

But like those heroines, Wonder isn’t so easily bested.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, which isn’t the least bit generous.

“Staring at you,” he murmurs. “It’s becoming a hobby. I watched you party with the raptors on the night we got here.”

“You were following me?” She plants her fists on her hips. “You could have announced yourself. For all I knew, you landed in enemy hands, on the other side of the dale.”

“Having dropped into Joy’s bed, maybe?”

Wonder goes rigid. She’d had that exact thought upon their arrival. “Are you clairvoyant?”

“If I were, you’d know it. I’d give you so much shit for every X-rated thought sneaking through your mind.”

“You could have misdirected yourself.”

“Christ. We’d been in The Dark Fates for a hot minute, and that’s all the credit you gave me?

I enjoyed spying on your little disco, like I enjoyed watching you bathe in the courtyard, like I enjoyed making your clean little pussy ripple minutes after you exited the pool, like I enjoyed seeing you lie beside me, like I enjoyed how that nightgown hugged your tits this morning, like I enjoyed seeing you wield a sharp weapon a moment ago. ”

Wonder’s pulse kicks up, too many of his points wreaking havoc with her bloodstream, especially the part about him getting off on her archery skills.

The memory of her cunt shuddering in pleasure when he scraped his fingernails against her sopping flesh, the curtain hugging her curves moving hectically, does nothing to stifle the ache presently assaulting the same intimate area.

Wonder keeps her voice even. “I thought you didn’t watch me in the pool.”

“I didn’t.” In the murk, his eyes gleam like firecrackers. “And I did. Take your pick.”

“Hunting for my weaknesses?”

“Confirming your strengths. And the span of your hips.” Across the distance, he traces her curves with the tip of his bow, moving it like a drawing pencil. “I like your hips.”

She nocks her weapon. “Do you like your head where it is?”

A smirk fills his voice. “Which head?”

“Obviously, I’m referring to that husk you call a cranium since it matters more to you.”

“More than my cock? Maybe true. Possibly true. Likewise, I’d say you value your intellect more than your aim. On the other hand, both are equally impressive.”

“Was that a compliment?” Truly, the statement surprises Wonder, especially when it comes out like a tease. She rectifies the situation by clearing her throat and gesturing to his weapon. “Why wood archery?”

Malice sets his longbow against the tree and stalks toward her, the blue of dawn slashing across his countenance. “Because it burns,” he answers. “Why quartz?”

“Because it doesn’t,” she replies.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he contests, halting an inch from her. “Heat resistant it might be, but everything has its limits.”

“Because it heals.”

At her amendment, his eyebrows crimp. “That must be nice.”

They study one another until Wonder says, “Now it’s my turn to inquire why you’re here.”

Malice takes a gander at the arboretum. “I followed the trail of Wonder dust.”

Something about his expression brings her up short. Anticipation. Trepidation. Then it hits her like a perfect strike.

Wonder’s breath escapes her. “You did this.”

The demon feigns confusion, one eyebrow darting upward. “Did what?”

But she just stares at him, nonplussed. And when that goes on for too long, Malice shifts in discomfort, an unprecedented sight if there ever was one.

“Oh! You mean this.” He lifts one casual shoulder. “I might have gotten insomnia for a few hours last night while you snoozed beside me. After the nightmare, I had to burn off creative energy. Basically, you were doing me a favor.”

Wonder swallows. “You did this while I slept.”

“It’s no big deal. I got tired of you whining about your corsage.”

“But I never said a word. How did you know this was my second favorite type of place?”

Malice stares at her, deadpan. “I didn’t.”

Yet he knew. Despite how little she had conveyed about her love of flowers, he’d watched, observed, and remembered.

Stars above. This demon god had been raging from nightmares, from horror she cannot begin to empathize with. Yet Malice had taken the time to beseech the celestials, to which they actually obliged him, and he created a botanical garden for Wonder before returning to their bed.

Not their bed. Not that it’s a bed they share.