Page 17

17

Merry

Time to get working. Time to kindle a heart.

This will require more finesse than Merry had anticipated, now that Anger has revealed the source of his wounded spirit. Separated from his homeland, his magic, and his crew. All with a broken soul.

Merry ruminates while a record player spins. Music alleviates her inner strife and the recent influx of setbacks, such as The Fate Court’s attack, her quarrels with Anger, his lack of consistency, and her lack of pacing. Not in that order.

Last night, they had fallen asleep together. This morning, they quarreled yet again, their principles at an impasse. Stars almighty, it’s always back and forth with him.

Even so, a thrill ripples down her spine. Memories of last night and this morning send blood racing to the crevice between her thighs. His eyes grabbing hers, those pupils flaring like atomic bombs while tracing her form under the nightgown. His knuckles bending, as if to stop himself from snatching Merry and shearing the garment to pieces. The husky pumps of his breath. And the covert looks Anger had given her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

In the company of their immortal guests, Merry’s skin had prickled, sensing his attention on her lips as she drank from her glass. The awareness had wetted her tongue, as well as the lace of her panties. Anger had been watching her sip, taste, and swallow with the same attention he devotes to combat.

Fierce. Destructive. Visceral.

Merry blows out a tremulous breath. It’s possible the rage god seduces in the same fashion, provided he seduces at all rather than exploding into motion with sexual partners. Despite every romantic fantasy in her arsenal, the notion of Anger growling, ripping, and mounting throws her previous daydreams into disarray.

His naked ass snapping between her thighs. His body opening Merry with violent thrusts of what must be a breathtaking cock.

Standing in the woolly robe and slippers, she drapes her fingers down her sternum, over her covered breasts, and down her stomach. The farther she descends, the more intensely her pussy aches. Yet before she’s tempted to lean against the nearest wall, pull open the vestment, and dip her fingers into the gusset, Merry yanks her hand away and fans her cheeks.

She’ll tend to herself later. For now, she has a mission to accomplish.

Tightening the sash of her robe, she rifles through the rack of clothes in her sanctuary. A distinct wildflower breeze blows into the space, the fragrance tugging Merry’s lips into a grin.

Thank Stars, she hadn’t given into arousal. Being caught with three fingers wedged between her folds would have been mortifying.

Merry makes a show of plucking a sapphire tulle skirt from the wardrobe. “What do you think of this color? I like to imagine I’m wearing the sky.”

Another hand, pulped with wildflower scars, reaches past Merry and selects a sequined tank top. “Then embellish it with a constellation.”

Smiling, Merry spins around and embraces Wonder while balancing the outfit in her fingers. Pulling back, Merry admires the female’s fountain of curls and expressive eyes, which constantly reflect contemplation.

She and the goddess clasp their free hands together. They’ve known each other for a scant number of days, having met only twice. Being birthed from stars and unable to conceive, their people don’t have families and suffer no desire for them as mortals do. Be that as it may, this connection with Wonder feels intrinsic, and Merry cherishes their quick bond.

“I leave you alone for a moment, and already you have a tale to tell,” Wonder chides. “Several tales, come to think of it.”

“Kindred,” Merry greets. “You heard my call.”

She hadn’t expected Wonder to answer this swiftly. While Anger was gone from the observatory—spending the day doing whatever he’d been doing—Merry had awakened on the lounge chair, needing to talk to someone about everything that’s happened since encountering Anger.

The battle against Malice. The Fate Court’s pursuit.

She had sent a message to her friend, because who better to discuss this with?

Even before then—ten days ago, to be precise—Wonder had made a stunning appearance in The Moonlit Carnival. Through nomadic research, she had learned of Merry’s existence and sought her out, wanting to see Merry in the flesh.

An erstwhile love goddess? And the only attempt to survive a shunned birth?

Wonder had rushed to The Celestial City, on a mission to quench her fascination. They had connected instantly, and by the second visit, Wonder had an idea. While snooping in The Archives, she had uncovered a legend, which spoke of kindling a deity’s heart. Returning Merry to The Dark Fates had appealed to Wonder; it had felt like the right thing to do after learning about Merry’s crusade for free will. In this, they have an equally vested interest.

As the crew had recapped on the deck, circulation of Love’s bond with a mortal has had an influence amid deities in The Dark Fates. Prior to that infamous tale, Merry had already been making headway in The Celestial City, pondering the link between deities and humans, trying to find an outlet for destiny and choice to coexist.

Additionally, she has dedicated her time studying mortals. The ones who pine, grovel, lie, cheat, despair, celebrate, unite, comfort, help, rescue, teach, learn, and grow. The humans who make vows, break promises, redeem themselves, demonstrate courage, and live happily ever after.

Without a Guide to instruct her on the nuances of humanity, Merry educated herself, just as she learned to ride a motorcycle. But as far as paving a way to The Dark Fates, then enacting a plot for humanity, her bucket list is long. Naturally, progress has been tedious.

Wonder had taken a chance on Merry. Merely one day after the goddess told Merry about the legend, Anger had shown up and collapsed in her arms. So yes, there are several tales to swap.

“Have I led you astray from deity business?” Merry asks Wonder. “I promise, I’ll make it quick. I would have confided in you on the roof, but we had company. Then when you vanished, I worried that you left for good, without saying goodbye.”

Wonder’s mouth quirks. “Dearest, didn’t you see me wink before I disappeared?”

“Yes, but it could have been just a wink. It’s an attractive gesture.”

“I don’t make gestures for the sake of it. That’s Envy’s job.”

“Anger’s the one.”

The announcement flies out of Merry like a dart. She winces and peeks out the doors leading to the deck, hoping the god hadn’t heard. As it is, he’s already taken note of her acquaintance with Wonder, and it’s best if he doesn’t find out she’s conspiring with the goddess. Anger wouldn’t object to Merry reestablishing herself in The Dark Fates; neither would he thwart her campaign for free will, because even if he doesn’t agree with Merry or his crew, she has made it clear that her quest will be peaceful, regardless of the outcome.

However, Anger would have a problem with Merry’s intention to kindle his heart. That god considers himself a leader, not a follower. He isn’t the type who likes being rescued by anyone other than himself.

Wonder waves her hand. “We can speak freely. Anger’s busy ruminating to himself. I suspect he interrogated Envy and Sorrow before they left, inquiring about The Court’s progress in recreating his successor. It isn’t going smoothly, which is to be expected. The rulers have standards, and it’s hardly an expedient process.”

“I can’t imagine replacing him,” Merry says. “Anger’s a dour, stubborn elitist. But he longs for a home that’s calm, filled with heat and light, in a high location that provides a wider scope of the world. He has a fear I can’t tell you about because it’s his secret. He favors the sun, believes in duty and fealty, and doesn’t pity himself despite what his people have taken from him. He’s the one whose heart I’m supposed to kindle.”

Wonder rubs her temples. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Which part?”

The goddess sinks onto the bed, her backside making the ruffles bounce. “The moment you called to me and included the words tortured soul , wounded hero , and Anger , I did the math. It’s not that I don’t wish for him to recuperate from his losses. I’d never endorse this course of action if it wouldn’t benefit Anger; he’s made mistakes, but he’s also made sacrifices and suffered enough. If you can help to fill the void in his soul, then I’m on your side.” Hesitating, Wonder broaches, “But from the looks of it, you’ve become invested in your objective in more ways than expected.”

“I’m not sorry for that. If the stories are true, I’m one of countless others who covet him from afar.” Merry lifts her chin like the valiant heroine she considers herself to be. “That said, I’m no fool when it comes to unrequited affections. I know my worth, and I’d be doing myself a disservice by dwelling on what can’t be.”

“Well, I’d say Anger is a fool not to appreciate what’s in front of him. Except there’s a reason—”

“I know about Love.”

Worry lines scrunch between Wonder’s eyebrows. “How much about her?”

That implies Wonder is well-versed on the matter. She must have witnessed quite a bit during her upbringing with Anger.

Actually, it sounds more complicated, as if they share a common memory, as though something occurred in their past. An incident strictly between them, which has both cemented and sundered their relationship.

The common denominator might have to do with Wonder’s scars. Or another event entirely.

Merry’s confidence dims—for a second. “I vow, none of this will detract from the greater quest. We spent a night in The Moonlit Carnival, revealing our secrets, bonding, bantering, arguing, and making amends. With time, it’ll progress enough for Anger to recover from Love and for me to get past the god’s superiority complex, not to mention his rejection. Because yes, he’s already turned me down.” She opens her dresser and sifts through a collection of beaded necklaces. “It’s a wound that I must bear. But as I said, I’ll survive. For the sake of humanity, his alliance is more important than his love.”

“Though, friends before allies?” Wonder quips. “It appears you’ve detoured from chronological order.”

“Good. Walking in a straight line is boring, Kindred Wonder.”

“Only if you don’t wish to trip and fracture something, Dearest Merry. That said, I agree with you. I wouldn’t wield the power of my root emotion if I didn’t. Now then, did you receive any confirmation that he’s the target? Did The Stars send you a message when you met?”

Merry dismisses her accessories. “I was too busy rating his unconscious face a ten-out-of-ten to check.”

“Not encouraging. But then, legends never say we cannot decide which soul to affect.”

“That notion alone vouches for the power of choice. Even if there was a law, does it merit obeying?”

A melancholy shadow crosses Wonder’s face as she glances at her mangled hands. “It depends on the rule,” she says, her voice soaked in memories, the longing and remorse of which has a texture as soft as petals.

Merry wants to touch Wonder’s shoulder, to ask what’s wrong, to discover who occupies the goddess’s thoughts. But Wonder doesn’t appear eager to speak of it. And Merry’s not about to intrude or resurrect the pain.

She strips out of the robe and nightgown, kicks off her cloud-shaped slippers, shimmies into the sapphire skirt, and dons the tank top under an oversized blazer. Then she finishes the ensemble with her favorite boots.

Wonder smiles at the discarded slippers. “Upon your return to The Dark Fates, please make sure to pack those. I’d love to see the look on our rulers’ faces.”

Merry perches on the bed while combing through her hair. “Thoughts on what I said in front of everyone? The Court might have attacked because of the campaign. But what about the legend?”

The goddess sobers, her blouse sliding off one shoulder. “I can’t imagine how they’d know about that unless they’ve assigned a deity to spy on one of us. It’s likely the former, however facets of both go hand in hand. I’ll learn what I can.”

Wonder vows to drag Envy and Sorrow aside, to tell them about the legend once they’ve left the city. Informing her crewmates is safer than keeping them in the dark, and she trusts the pair not to breathe a word to Anger.

This quest is entangling more souls than Merry had foreseen. But that’s the price for inciting change. In the meantime, she’ll be on her guard.

And she’ll do her best to target a rage god.