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But before she can rip the lock from the wagon’s hinge and free the man, a pair of mighty hands fasten onto her shoulders and haul her backward.

She fights, even though these aren’t the hands of a crewmate. Nor is it the grip of Harmony. No, these are the hands of a celestial sovereign.

***

Her floundering of late has given Wonder away. It has caught her crewmates’ attention. And it has caught her Guide’s attention. But although none of them reported a thing, their concern hasn’t gone unnoticed by others who are far more powerful.

While Wonder was busy defying regulation, The Fate Court had ordered a search of her home. That’s how they’d found the mortal ink and paper.

Harmony had discovered it long before then and ordered Wonder to trash the evidence. But Wonder hadn’t, even though she had promised to, and the mentor had foolishly believed her.

Wonder confesses everything once they threaten to punish her crewmates, as well as herself.

To that end, the rulers command her peers to carry out the torture, to strap Wonder down and slash those offensive, obstinate hands.

In front of the congregation, she struggles against the binds while a blade slices through her skin.

Streams of blood unfurl from her flesh like petals, the color as red as pomegranates.

The cuts are shaped like flowers, underscoring how the scars will look.

Is this why she chose quartz for archery? Because it will heal her hands later?

The whole time, her friends wear tormented expressions. Alongside her, they suffer this introduction to physical pain, each movement forced as they maim her hands. It stings, and it throbs, and she shrieks.

Please, no more. Please, it hurts.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!

Tears flow and seep into her cheeks. She imagines her mortal, the beloved man who owns her heart, the one who will never know her the way she knows him.

Where is he? What are those physicians doing to him?

Her comrade, Love, cannot take it anymore and flings herself in front of Wonder, blocking the swing of Envy’s knife.

For an instant, all four crewmates appear relieved by the interruption.

But then Anger reluctantly drags Love out of the room while she bucks and screams, the rage god preventing her protest from getting the rest of them into trouble.

At the behest of a court member, it continues.

Wonder’s Guide watches with a trembling chin, periodically glancing at her superiors in fury. Then Harmony meets Wonder’s eyes and holds the gaze, schooling Wonder to breathe, to empty her mind like they’ve practiced.

She can do this. She will survive.

But will her mortal?

***

Anger pounds on her door in the middle of the night. Blearily, Wonder answers and barely has time to process as his mouth crashes onto hers, stealing her breath in a ferocious kiss.

Instantly, she comprehends why. Despite delirium, she knows how Anger looks at Love, and how the goddess doesn’t look at him.

Wonder understands this unrequited agony. She’s attuned to this heartache, this loneliness. So on a desperate moan, she spreads her lips for Anger, letting him ply her with his tongue. She kisses him back, and it feels good, and it feels comforting.

In her mind’s eye, she envisions blond waves and irises the shade of ashes. A raspy male voice singing and honed fingernails turning a page.

Picturing those mortal lips, she surrenders. Together, she and Anger stumble inside her house and slam the door shut.

He fucks her hard, and she fucks him back, her naked body slamming across the mattress.

With her legs strapped around Anger’s pumping ass, Wonder cries to the ceiling.

They cling to one another, tear each other apart.

As his cock drives into her pussy, the god’s face alters, and his dark hair lightens, and his eyes shift color, and his voice sings into her ears.

Only then does Wonder come with a holler, her cunt pulsing around his lunging cock.

She shuts her eyes, the orgasm flooding her bloodstream, and it feels so good.

And it hurts so fucking bad.

The next morning, she awakens next to Anger, who rests on his side. They stare at one another until her mouth wobbles, and her eyes blur. As the god swipes the first tear with his thumb, his guilt reflects her own.

“I know,” he whispers, then holds Wonder while she weeps.

It never happens again.

***

When she’s of age, Wonder serves the mortal realm. By that time, the man is gone, having perished in the asylum.

Wonder sobs at his grave and traces the name on his headstone.

As the decades pass, she looks for him in the visage of every human male. But it’s no use, because she’ll never find the face she’s looking for.

So finally, she gives up.

***

One hundred years later, during a break from servitude, she returns to The Dark Fates for an intermission. There, Wonder curls into her reading chair. The Archives aren’t busy today, the lull having afforded her time to browse The Hollow Chamber’s restricted area and snatch a text or two.

On the pretense of innocence, she had then exited the section. Having discreetly chosen this seat, she presently tucks into her reading material.

Glittering light from the overhead sphere pours into the space, bringing a selection of books into stark relief like a trail. The spectacle calls to mind a human library, from an era when she witnessed a similar effect while spying on a mortal.

Of all things to recall, why that? Wonder shakes her head.

Then she pauses. Her nape prickles in awareness, sensing the weight of a stranger’s eyes on her.

Someone is watching me.

Glancing up, Wonder scans the aisles. There’s no one around. But she does catch quick movement in her periphery, a splash of gilded hair disappearing around the corner and boots stalking away.

Her heart twitches. She’s about to rise and follow the stranger, but something else claims her attention. From the book on her lap, a string of words materializes under the right slant of light.

Wonder straightens. It’s another legend.

Something about a deity kindling the heart of another deity.