Page 6

Wonder

The glass arrow spears past her face. It lances the air, flitting by her navel and stabbing the gullet of an oak tree trimmed in fairy lights.

Wonder swivels while nocking her bow, however her reflexes lag.

The glass projectile rams into her sternum, the impact slamming her into the earth, her archery scattering across the hill.

The landing tears her blouse, causing a rift in the material.

Her belly pumps with air, her skin peeking through the textile’s gap while the glass arrow vanishes and reappears in her opponent’s quiver.

A male specimen slides on his knees toward Wonder, his limbs mowing through the grass.

He halts beside her and slants his head, sheets of long mahogany hair spilling down his frame.

Unlike his usual smarmy features, the god’s expression tightens with cynicism.

It’s rare to exhaust Envy’s sense of humor. Rarer still for him not to gloat.

Instead of congratulating himself on winning this bout, he flattens both palms on his thighs and regards Wonder. Her consciousness is prone to drift, which is nothing new. But this is a different type of meandering, because she’s never been this out of sorts during training.

Envy doesn’t point out the obvious, but he does reserve the right to judge. He extends his hand to help Wonder rise, a gesture she claps away before tramping to her feet. In battle, no one will be a gentleman, and no one will be a lady.

It’s been countless hours since her altercation with Malice. Eventide has descended, the firmament glittering beyond thin scarves of clouds.

From behind Envy, a groan rumbles out of Sorrow, who palms her face in abject misery, aware of what’s about to happen.

Once Wonder’s upright, Envy swaggers to his booted feet.

As soon as his towering frame straightens, clad in houndstooth trousers and a swanky button-down shirt, he chucks his weaponry to the ground.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Or just distracted by my exquisite face? Choose your excuse wisely.”

“Don’t.” Wonder flaps a hand at him. “Don’t start. I’m allowed to have a bad day.”

“What about yesterday? And the day before that?” he jeers. “Far be it from my hunky self not to thrive on stealing another deity’s thunder, but these easy pickings are getting obscene.”

“For Star’s sake, enough with your bitching,” Sorrow says, striding up to him in her vest and shredded skirt. “Easy pickings are exactly your thing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he grits out.

While the pair snaps at one another, Wonder checks the rip in her blouse, the garment burdened with dirt and grass streaks. Her pants have suffered the same fate, and bits of debris cling to the long chestnut curls sticking out of her ponytail.

What’s more, her corsage is missing. The wristlet must have come loose during the fight. However, as Wonder twists in a full circle, the blooms are nowhere in sight.

As for Envy, he has a right to be furious. Wonder’s precarious ability to focus is compromising their valuable time. Though it’s not irregular from her, she always pulls herself together when it counts, when their crew is relying on each other.

“Let her be,” Sorrow berates Envy. “Since when are you as militant as Anger?”

“Anger’s not here,” Envy points out while adjusting his ensemble. “He’s either busy yelling at the sun, prowling the city for recruits, or fucking Merry.”

The goddess snorts and pats his backside. “Is that why you have an attitude? You’re spoiling for the same carnal sustenance?”

Envy tosses her a handsome scowl. He jerks away from the intimate touch as if her attempt to mollify him is repugnant.

Astonishment and hurt clutter Sorrow’s face, the star-flecked skin beneath her lower lashes crinkling as she watches him collect his bow.

The scene produces several phenomena including Envy developing a cantankerous attitude, Sorrow’s efforts to actually tease, and the tension simmering from both parties.

Envy, not in the mood to flirt? Sorrow, wounded by the rejection?

It’s the first time Wonder has witnessed an entanglement between them. They became lust partners shortly before their group had first arrived in this city. Since then, the couple hasn’t denied each other once.

Perhaps it’s the stress. Their rebel crew trains hard while also mobilizing outcast allies, those who oppose The Fate Court and support the empowerment of humanity.

Everything had started out hopeful, but it appears the strain of potential bloodshed with their supreme rulers has caught up to everyone.

Sorrow shuffles, the folds of her skirt grazing the hill before she recovers, because Sorrow knows how to handle injuries.

With a grunt, she flicks the back of her hand as if to say, Good riddance, dickhead .

She sets off down the hill, her charcoal-gray hair shining like aluminum beneath The Stars.

Envy must think he’s being subtle. His head tilts a fraction, catching Sorrow’s departure, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Yet he doesn’t stop her, compromise and appeasement hardly his style. The conceited God of Envy doesn’t pursue.

This may be their first official lust quarrel, though Wonder wouldn’t know for certain. She’s not a virgin, but she’s never been involved in such an arrangement as theirs.

Nonetheless, Wonder addresses her companion’s rigid shoulder blades. “Oh, Envy. You know better.”

The god tenses, then shakes his head and belts out an ironic, humorless laugh. “How about you stop dabbling in everyone’s affairs and deal with your own instead? Oh, wait. You would need an actual mate for that.”

Wonder flinches, the jab cutting deeper than it should.

That’s when Envy’s features slacken, registering the harshness of his words.

Although their crew has an occasional tendency to antagonize, bicker, and criticize one another, each of her peers makes it a point to leave Wonder out of those messes.

It’s been this way since her torture, the crew taking every precaution to avoid offending her, as if going light will atone for their actions.

But while it aggravates Wonder to be treated like porcelain, her attempts to dissuade them have failed until now.

“Fuck,” Envy hisses, his face twisting. “Wonder, I didn’t—”

She waves it off. “It’s fine.”

“No. It wasn’t fucking fine.”

“Very well. Yes, it was unkind and warrants an arrow through your groin. But it’s also a start. You should do this more often.”

“Be an asshole?”

“Be honest with me,” she states.

Be close with me. Be real.

Envy appraises her, contrition softening his countenance. “Anything for you.”

“Careful,” she quips. “You’re forgiven, so long as you don’t overdo it.”

That mouth tips into a roguish grin. “I’m Envy. It’s my job to overdo everything.”

Their mild laughter tapers off before the god inclines his head and turns to leave, halting when Wonder speaks to his back. “Speaking of honesty.” She arches a perceptive eyebrow. “No one ever said she was your mate.”

The muscles in his shoulder blades pinch. Indeed. By accusing Wonder of not having a mate of her own, Envy hadn’t just tripped into that implication. He swaggered into it with aplomb.

With the words lingering in their midst, the god sets into motion, striding in the opposite direction from where Sorrow had charged.

Interesting that neither of them opt to simply evanesce, thereby retreating to an unknown location of their choice, since that would prevent the deities from seeking the other out.

Rather, they elect to walk off their frustrations, making themselves nevertheless accessible.

Not that either party takes advantage of this, for they place as much distance between one another as possible.

Wonder sighs. Envy had behaved like a mongrel, but he isn’t wrong about one fact. She meddles in everyone’s relationships because she has no bond of her own.

Kinships, yes. Fellowships, naturally.

Anything more? No.

Wonder stands atop the summit, staring at nothing, thinking about everything.

Her surroundings materialize as if she had forgotten her whereabouts.

She orientates herself to the expanse of grass, the central oak tree that hovers proudly, and the two shimmering telescopes craning their necks toward the constellations.

Surrounding the hill is The Moonlit Carnival, an arena of celestial-themed rides that evoke the galaxy. It’s a beautiful place on a beautiful night. Colorful bulbs flash, sparkler-lined pathways enhance the ambience, and joyous mortal revelry resonates from the attractions.

Their crew had selected this bluff as a training ground because it reminds them of home.

Growing up in The Dark Fates, they used to practice on such a summit.

This one is called Stargazer Hill, a location invisible to mortals, rising from the carnival’s hub.

Beyond the park shines The Celestial City, where constellations are known to shine the brightest of all mortal landscapes, the panorama comprised of ancient buildings and historic architecture.

The library’s distant silhouette cuts through the inky sky, a smattering of stars arching above the roof.

Actually, there may be a way to redeem herself, a means to atone for her inconsistency of late.

Although Wonder has read the myth of Hades and Persephone, there are countless retellings to study, as Malice had said.

To that end, she could station herself in a cubicle and consult additional versions, scouring the pages for whatever Malice is trying to hint.

Soon, midnight will come. Soon, the carnival will close, the bulbs shutting like eyelids. Soon, the library will shut its doors.

But there’s no need to make haste by manifesting. If there’s one thing Wonder has, it’s plenty of time to get there.

More hours pass, darkening the firmament with each minute. By the time the city retires, the library is all hers. The repository is a chasm, with six levels and labyrinthine stacks winding through the building. Buried underneath all this brick and stone is the vault.

Wonder hikes to the second-floor mezzanine, then to the third. If this were a test of her nonfiction prowess, she would be victorious. By comparison, she’s less acquainted with the fiction section, including its backlists and new releases. Therefore, this quest will surely pass slower.

Her saving grace is the romance section, which provides an abundance of explicit covers, swirling fonts, and fantasy novels about royals, highlanders, and billionaires.

The cursive words Duke and Scoundrel , Court and Cruel , Sword and Series , loop across the spines.

Some of the options intrigue her, the dust jacket designs ranging from seductive to fierce.

Her fingers pause on one of the titles, itching to slide it from the collection like a piece of candy. No, this definitely isn’t the time to curl up and crack open a slow-burn tale.

Wonder resists, drawing back her digits.

She scans the paperbacks and carousels organized by author, but disregards the options in favor of a special mythology display based on librarian recommendations.

The covers are darker, featuring lightning, marble architecture, and imperial-looking characters, though the amount of bare pectorals and puckered lips is the same as everywhere else.

Her feet halt at the sight of three books pressed together like lovers. The first one is a retelling of Eros. The second, Icarus. The third, Hades and Persephone. Although the library has divided these recommendations based on corresponding myth, this trio is out of order.

Wonder plucks the third title from the shelf.

Its black facade displays shadowed profiles, the title interlaced with wildflowers and pomegranates.

The book’s glossy casing flashes when she opens it, the pages stained with crimson.

She turns to the prologue—and her hand freezes at the sound of a toxic voice.

A voice that shouldn’t be here, that cannot be here. Because that voice should be locked in the vault.

“My, my,” Malice drawls from behind. “Look who got curious.”