Page 31

31

Merry

Her sanctuary awaits. She strides across the deck, hurls herself onto a lounge chair, and proceeds to sob for five straight minutes. It’s less time than an epic ballad, yet more time than Anger deserves. She kept it inside during their public display, the turmoil congesting in her throat, but she can let it out now.

Midday casts a mournful gloom across the cityscape. She should play a record, the perfect album to match the mood, the songs fraught with an abundance of strings and midtones. Yet she refuses to attach this memory to a piece of beloved vinyl.

The lounge cushion catches her tears, which leak down the sides of her face. She’s being dramatic, and if there’s a time to compose herself, it’s now. Anger has stolen enough from her. He doesn’t have the right to elicit misery.

Somebody taps against the double doors leading to the roof, one of the observatory partitions creaking open. The compassionate aroma of wildflowers flows across the platform.

Familiar with the fragrance, Merry’s watery voice calls out, “The Stars burn brightly for lovers.”

With a weary sigh, the voice recites, “But not for the enemy.”

After exchanging the confidential phrase, Merry bids her visitor entry. One of the doors swings open, and Wonder pokes her head outside. Chestnut hair cascades over her shoulder, the ends curling like a bouquet. A starlit dress clings to her voluptuous body, the unearthly fabric spilling off her curves and brushing the tops of her unshod feet. She closes the door and leans against the glass with a look of sympathy.

What was the goddess doing in the library? Had she known Anger would be there? Had she known Love would be there?

Reading Merry’s mind, Wonder shakes her head. “I’m your friend. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Merry sits up, scrubs away the remaining tears, and wraps both arms around her upturned limbs. “I believe you, kindred.”

Footfalls sojourn across the deck, and the lounge chair sags beneath Wonder’s rump. For a while, they absorb the quiet atmosphere, so far above the city like an ivory tower.

Wonder’s hand cups Merry shoulder. “Dearest—”

“I never want to see him again,” Merry snaps.

“What’s happened?” a swanky male baritone asks.

Wonder groans while Merry peeks around the goddess. The towering form of Envy and the gaunt outline of Sorrow suddenly occupies the roof. The deities glance at Merry’s drenched face, then jerk toward Wonder in confusion. At which point, the goddess explains that she had called to them for reinforcements, then rehashes the events.

Up until today, Wonder had been taking up residence in The Archives, researching solutions regarding fate and free will, as well any resources that would aid them in conflict against The Court. But having unearthed nothing new, Wonder had transferred her attention from the mystical library of their realm to the mortal one here. Unwilling to dismiss human books like the rest of their kind, she had journeyed to The Celestial City’s repository, in case the stacks yielded unforeseen information.

Apparently, destiny has a wicked sense of humor. It had dropped multiple players in the same place, at the same time. Though, Wonder suspects Love and Andrew had been seeking clues about their lost memories, details that might fill in the vacant parts.

Recovering from their shock, the deities speculate in silence. But when Merry brings up Malice’s role in all of this, Wonder makes no comment regarding the demon, which feels deliberate. Instead of cringing, which is a legitimate reaction to that diabolical heathen, the goddess winces as if his name is a thorn—sharp and painful, capable of drawing blood.

Absently, Wonder traces the scars embedded into her hands. Merry would dedicate herself to this mystery and pry it open like a box, if she didn’t suspect it would further torment her friend.

In any event, the demon hadn’t exposed Merry’s agenda. Otherwise, Anger would have confronted her. That concern had been unnecessary, likely because Malice knows nothing about the legend after all.

Yet for some devious reason, the demon has been invested in Anger for a while. To that end, Anger had planned to fully explain their connection when he returned home. In hindsight, Merry should have demanded that from him in advance.

The recollection of their argument pierces her soul anew. On second thought, maybe she should indeed play a record. One with a few bonus tracks to blunt the agony. She’ll do that as soon as she blows her nose.

Envy saunters forward, then squats beside Merry and flicks his index finger at a pink strand of hair. “And what has you in such a dripping state, hmm? I’m assuming it’s Love and Anger’s rendezvous. You have the grime of a lover’s quarrel slathered all over you. What else happened? What did Anger the Angry say to you? Tell Uncle Envy how he can help.”

“I hate him,” Merry grits out, lifting her quivering chin. “He stormed into my world, and I’ve never been the same.”

“It’s been two weeks,” Sorrow blandly points out while leaning her hip against the railing.

“What is time?” Merry contests. “I’m despairing from unrequited passion.”

Envy frowns. “Did he ravish you to the point of no return?”

To that, she bursts into tears for a second time. Her arm swats the air, haphazardly reaching for the emergency tissues she’d set on a side table back when the god had first entered her life. Unfortunately, she only succeeds in batting the tissues to the floor, the gauzy sheets littering the roof like confetti.

“Then I have no choice but to target him,” Envy announces with a debonair shrug. “No one fucks a friend of mine, then fails to finish the job properly.”

“Please,” Sorrow chides. “This is no time to pound your alpha chest.”

“You like my alpha chest. I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve mounted it.”

Sorrow flushes, then grimaces to cover the evidence. Suppressing her humiliation, the female ignores Envy and grunts to Merry, “Whatever. Your grumpy fuck-buddy isn’t worth this open-mouthed, ugly sobbing. Trust me, I know the value of tears. You’ll move on.”

“He’s my soulmate.”

“It’s been two weeks ,” Sorrow repeats, exasperated.

“During which her pupils have turned into hearts,” Envy remarks.

“And need I remind each of you that Love and Andrew bonded in the same amount of time,” Wonder berates. “It’s not implausible to fall for someone quickly, just as it’s not implausible to live for thousands of contented years without a soulmate.”

She takes charge and suggests they dive into a vat of wine. While Envy and Sorrow see to the provisions, Merry refuses to be useless. Anger’s peers have pledged solidarity to her, and she’s grateful. She has kindreds, she has friends, and she has herself.

After tidying her mess, she collects the scattered tissues before returning to the lounge chair. Settled, she massages her raw eyes, which have shriveled like pits.

Meanwhile, Wonder meditates on their circumstances. “I shouldn’t have encouraged you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Merry insists. “He was my choice, my free will, and my fate. Like magic and fate, this is a lesson that proves love comes with a price—all parts of the trinity, so wickedly taken from me.”

Wonder absorbs that. Her expression grows remote, her cheeks deprived of their usual peach complexion. “There is always a price,” she murmurs. “There’s never a guarantee.”

The comment surfaces like something long buried, whether or not the goddess is aware of it. The implication tugs at Merry, so that she weaves their fingers together. “You lost someone.”

To which, Wonder musters a smile. “Not all deities are meant to have a mate. Not all of us need one.”

“Don’t do that,” Merry advocates. “Don’t confuse being in love and having a life partner with needing a mate. Don’t assume both mean the same thing. And don’t assume that’s an uncommon notion.”

The words revive Merry and refocus Wonder. Moments later, Envy and Sorrow rejoin them with a bottle and four glasses, their chairs overlooking the endless horizon.

Beyond the observatory, the sun bakes in the sky. Lights bounce off a vista of windowpanes, their radiance connecting every building, every inhabitant, both mortal and immortal. It reminds Merry how similar they are. Everyone feels wonder, sorrow, envy, anger, and love. Yet no one is an expert.

For everyone, it just comes. And then it goes.