The archer mutters to himself while holding Merry close, his limbs clamped around her waist on the grass. She caresses his arm as he makes a crescent around her middle, tucking her into him, her back nestled into the cliff of his torso.
It’s an endearing vision, one the lovers have earned. Shortly after Love and Andrew became a couple, Anger had been banished. Having been ordered by the Fate Court to prevent such an indiscretion between the goddess and a mortal, Anger had chosen to protect Love and Andrew instead. And so he’d been punished—ostracized from his people and shunned from the only life he’d ever known.
Four years passed in which he’d roamed the mortal realm alone, until he’d arrived in the Celestial City, the hub of fellow outcasts who’d been expelled from the Peaks either for disobedience or inadequacy. And here, Anger met and gave his heart to Merry, a misfit goddess who inspired him to redefine fate and free will.
That’s where Malice comes in.
He’d been exiled here as well, for his own indiscretions in the Peaks. Wanting retribution against his superiors, Malice had tried to manipulate Anger for help. When that hadn’t worked, Malice had attempted to kill Merry and Love, in order to get Anger to comply.
Malice had failed, especially when Wonder showed up and helped thwart him. At which point, their group had imprisoned that loose cannon for the sake of everyone’s safety.
Wonder gazes at her friends. The sight of Anger and Merry together warms her soul. Another becoming vision is Andrew reclining on the hill, his weight braced on flattened palms while Love straddles him.
What’s not a precious vision is the third pairing. Envy and Sorrow have stationed themselves apart from each other, still smarting from their earlier quarrel. It doesn’t cease to amaze Wonder how those two became lust partners in the first place. They’re polar opposites, with his narcissistic banter and fetish for bespoke suits, and Sorrow’s cynicism and frayed attire.
Of everyone here, Sorrow cares the least what others think of her, whereas Envy feeds off admiration, hopping from female beds to male beds.
Imagine the immortal versions of a corporate playboy and a college goth.
Fairy lights entwine the oak tree, the branches glittering around Wonder, this angle flipping the universe on its head. It’s a fine place, and a fine perspective, for meditation.
Her locks dangle around her face as she inhales, exhales, inhales.
How dare Malice call her a scholastic bitch! No fiend insults her aptitude!
Yet confusion squats in her gut as she recalls the beating she’d given him. When it comes to that fiend, no reaction to him is ever simple, or singular, or straightforward.
He’s back in the vault, quarantined like a monster—like a mad god. And this time, they’d really, truly, permanently shackled him.
Wonder hadn’t watched. Needing time alone, she’d retreated shortly after the incident.
Sparklers sizzle along pathways throughout the Carnival of Stars. Embers speckle the picnic lawn where their group huddles, surrounded by dormant attractions. The sun begins to scale the horizon, splashing the sky with light. The archers would have gathered on Stargazer Hill, which is their routine meeting place, but Wonder had already settled in this spot, inverted like a possum when they’d found her.
Each of them knows about Malice, what his face signifies to her, because she hasn’t kept it a secret. Consequently, they’d given her space to grieve over the library incident.
At last, Anger’s patience has worn thin. His graphite eyes riot in frustration as he drums his fingers against the incline of a toned thigh, while his free arm encloses Merry. Sorrow hunches over and avoids Envy, who’s flat on his back, twirling his glass arrow like a baton. From their straddle position, Love and Andrew cast Wonder sideways glances.
How did Malice get out? That’s what everyone’s thinking.
They’re also betting on how long it will take Wonder to get the devil out of her system—and get back on the ground. She doesn’t have an answer for either.
There are plenty of questions to broach, plenty of contingency plans to make now that Malice has an inexplicable means of escape. One that he’d refused to share, no matter how many times her classmates had threatened him with ultimatums, trying their utmost to get innovative without resorting to violence.
Deities are not susceptible to illnesses, neither physical nor mental. Back home, their kind would have no trouble abusing Malice. Skewed mind or not, he’d earn little compassion.
But having experience with the execution of torture had restrained Wonder’s classmates from going there. They’d all learned not to condone such acts. So thankfully, she hadn’t had to intervene on Malice’s behalf.
Moreover, there’s training to master, tasks to embark on, and knowledge to procure.
How to battle the Fates? How to balance fate and free will?
Wonder has made the most of her limited resources, hunting for bits of wisdom via the stars and exiles, but their class doesn’t have enough allies yet, nor enough intel. There are dignified issues to deal with, and there’s a plan to revise. This isn’t a juncture to get shallow.
Unfortunately, Envy breaks the silence. “You need a release.”
“For the last time!” Wonder vents. “I don’t need to be plucked!”
“I beg to differ. Having a beautiful prick upon which to ride will do you a wonder of good.”
Anger groans, and Merry squeaks. Love stares blandly, and Andrew palms his face.
Sorrow grimaces as though questioning how Envy ever succeeded getting her into bed.
Wonder has had enough of the god’s incessant mockery, which hasn’t ceased in nearly four hundred days. A grain of time, yes. But these days, it takes seconds to nettle her.
She doesn’t care that Envy is surly. Whatever collision of ego and angst has transpired between him and Sorrow, that’s their problem. He has no right to take it out on Wonder, especially not after she was almost throttled.
And he calls himself a friend? By Fates, deities are selfish!
“Why must you make everything about sex?” Wonder gripes. “This isn’t about sex.”
“That’s because you’re the only one not having any,” Envy says.
She gnashes her teeth. Unanimously, Sorrow and Love lean over and slap Envy upside the head, causing him to drop the glass arrow.
“What?” he asks, innocent.
“Stop being a jackass,” Love grits.
Andrew shakes his head. “Nah, he’s not being a jackass.”
Envy flashes a smug grin. “Thank you.”
“The word for it is dickhead.”
The grin vanishes. “Who invited you?”
“Who banished you?” Andrew and Love retort at the same time.
“Gracious, Envy!” Merry snaps, “Have you no compassion—”
“Frankly, I leave that to Pity,” he says, petulant.
“Wonder was just attacked by the love of her life!”
That shuts everyone up. Wonder has never confessed to loving Malice. She’d testified to loving a boy from history, the mask of whom Malice wears. There’s a galaxy’s worth of difference.
Before she can whisk up a proper speech, Envy is striding halfway down a sparkler path. The remaining males stalk after him, Anger bent on anger management, Andrew intending to keep the peace by making a few pacifist quips.