Page 48 of Torn

But as far as becoming a redeemable goddess, she’s gotten nowhere. The more she has tried, the farther she’s felt from her origins.

Upon Wonder’s arrival, she and Merry had shared their theories about fate versus free will. Wonder had believed in Merry’s potential to be a fair goddess, the sort that Love had beseeched for the future, a sentimental goddess who cares for mortals more than anyone the Fate Court will recreate.

Wonder had taken a chance on Merry. And only one day after the archeress told her about the legend, Anger had shown up, passing out in Merry’s arms.

Yes, there are several tales to swap.

“Have I lead you astray from archeress business?” Merry asks Wonder. “I promise, I’ll make it quick. I would have confided in you on the roof, but we had company—though it was marvelous to meet the illustrious Envy and Sorrow. But when I saw you vanish right in front of Anger, I began to fret that maybe you’d left for good, without saying farewell. I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Oh, dearest,” Wonder chides. “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 wink for the sake of winking. That’s Envy’s job.”

“Anger’s the one.”

The announcement pops out of Merry like a ping-pong ball. She winces and peeks out the doors to the deck, hoping the god hadn’t heard that. Matter of fact, that he hadn’t heard Wonder and Merry at all, since he’d already taken note of their acquaintance. To say the least, it’s best if he doesn’t know she’s conspiring to romance.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Wonder waves her hand. “He’s delayed Envy and Sorrow from leaving, asking them for updates on the Fates’ progress recreating a new God of Anger. It isn’t going smoothly, which is to be expected. They have standards, and it’s hardly an expedient process.”

“I can’t imagine replacing him,” Merry declares. “Anger’s a stubborn elitist. But he’s ridden a carousel, he longs to make memories, he likes blueberry lemonade even if he won’t admit it, and he squeezes his bow or drums his fingers to calm down. He loves placid waters and minerals, he’s afraid of snowstorms, he favors the color blue, and he yearns for a home of his own. He’s the one whose heart I’m supposed to win. He’s the yang to my yin, the fire to my hearth.”

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

“Which part?”

The goddess plops onto the bed, her rump making the ruffles bounce. “The moment you called to me and included the wordssoul mateandAnger, I did the math. I’d been wondering how long it would take for him to drift here. But Merry, he’s—”

“I know about Love.”

“How much about her?”

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

Actually, it sounds more complicated. It sounds like they share a common memory, like something occurred in their past, something strictly between them, which has both sealed and sundered their relationship.

Does the common denominator have to do with Wonder’s scars? Or another event entirely?

Merry’s confidence dims—for a second. “We spent a night in the Carnival of Stars, revealing our secrets.”

Wonder admires the neon fonts adorning the room, particularly the beaming four-letter word in question. “Soul mates before friends. You’ve detoured from chronological order.”

“Love at first sight, love at last sight,” Merry lists while opening a dresser drawer, sifting through a medley of beaded necklaces and headbands. “I don’t know everything, orcloseto everything about love, but I’ve been an earthen homebody and an attentive bystander of mortal weddings and tear-jerkers my whole life. The art of love has no timeline or structure, Kindred Wonder.”

“Then you’ve got your matchmaking work cut out for you, Dearest Merry.”

“I’ll consider this training for when I return to the Peaks. I’m smitten, which means I’m halfway victorious.” Merry dismisses her accessories, clasps her hands, and twirls. “Anger is all that remains between a plot twist and a resolution.”

“How do you know he’s the one? Did the stars flash? Did your hearts glow?”

“I was too busy looking at his unconscious face to check.”

“Destiny-wise, that isn’t encouraging.”

“Anatomy-wise, it is. I felt it from my toes to my scalp, all queasy and delirious; it was so provocative that I felt like a criminal. Do we really know all the signs of ardor?”

A melancholy shadow crosses Wonder’s face as she glances at her mangled hands. “Perhaps not,” she says, her voice dipped in memory, the texture of which carries a petal-soft longing.

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