Page 20 of Tempt

An adolescent dragonfly—the length of her foot—settles onto her stomach, its platinum, propeller wings fanning in place. The creature dashes off, zipping into the abyss before Wonder can pet it. They’re feistier and more evasive when they’re young. A long time ago, on the cusp of thirty, she’d made it her mission to trail a dragonfly for an entire day, just to see how it spent its time.

Hyacinths sprout around her, creating a jeweled tapestry. Wonder lurches upright, swatting the hip-length curls from her face as she soaks in the vista. It’s akin to an island dangling amidst the galaxy, with moons and planets bobbing in the distance, so small that she can pinch them between her fingers.

Below that, bluffs slope. Farther afield, on the opposite side of the range, one will discover mineral caves and still waters, a placid gloss of dark pools beneath homes on stilts, where her kin live.

But here at the summit, she’s overwhelmed. Nestled someplace in the glen stands a structure, a shrine of books. Secluded in a forest thicket exists her happy place.

Her eyes sting, which is silly. If she’d been apart from it for a few hundred years, nostalgia would be justified. But although it’s only been a blink of time since her previous visit, she hadn’t expected to see the structure for a much longer time.

Actually, she’d been prepared to never see it again, should her class lose this battle.

Wonder collects her archery and then wobbles to stand while hitching the weapons to her back. She knows the muscles of this ridge, the joints of its shoulders; she used to meditate in this very spot. Also, she’d had target practice with her peers on this hilltop. But…

She rotates, her gaze darting across the expanse.

Malice is nowhere in sight.

They’d left in such a hurry, without bothering to agree on a location. The first place she’d thought of had been obvious, though she hadn’t arrived as close to the Archives as she should have. She’d been too frazzled to focus.

And who knows what destination Malice had been thinking of? He might be across the range, somewhere along the shoreline. For kicks, he may have landed in Joy’s bed, prompting the goddess into a screeching fit. Or by accident, he may have landed in the middle of an archery range, or worse, in the belly of the Fate Court’s throne enclave.

Wonder flicks those preposterous scenarios from her mind. Malice is many noxious things, but a nincompoop isn’t one of them. Wherever in the Peaks he is, he’d calculated his destination in advance. What he’d neglected to do was inform her where that is!

Using the stars as channels, her mind calls out to him, but he doesn’t answer. They’re off to a promising start. Suffice it to say, she’ll have to get moving before someone sees her.

The overhead swell of violet indicates nighttime. Stellar Worship aside, her people will have retired for contemplation and sleep by now.

ItisStellar Worship, right?

Wonder assesses the sky once again, trepidation leaking into her chest.

No matter what, it’s best to travel quickly. She winds her hair into a bun, an onslaught of wild tendrils sneaking out. To the matter of clothes, she shuts her eyes and fixates on an alternative. When next she looks, bare feet and a gown of herb green have replaced the boots, harem pants, and blouse, the shade perfect for camouflage during her sojourn. It’s a precaution that Wonder tops off with a cloak.

She cannot alter the quartz arrows, but this half-hearted disguise is better than nothing. The woodland canopy will have to do the rest, shielding the details that identify her.

She’s going to flay Malice when she finds him. And she will find him, or he’ll find her, though she’d rather be the one who does the finding.

At least they’re headed for the same place. Hopefully, he shall make himself useful and avoid getting apprehended or maimed. And hopefully, she will stop fretting about that, because outside of this mission, he doesn’t warrant her concern.

Wonder descends the precipice. As hyacinths caress her toes, she smiles at the puckered stalks embellished with dew and midnight. When was the last time she did something simple like roam the fields and pick flowers?

She keeps to dense areas, flitting from tree to tree, shrub to shrub. The lower the elevation, the more congested the wild becomes, tangling itself up into knots.

At the cliff’s base, beeches arc their heads over an avenue that leads into the sylvan landscape. A human would say it’s the border of a faerie dimension, which is a fine guess. This region breathes magic and majesty.

Her unshod heels sink into the ground as she steps into the woodland. Some things don’t change between worlds, such as the twisting arcades of trees, age gnarling the trunks and moss embroidering the boughs, and the sumptuous tufts of grass. Also, the wildflowers—lilac stems and crocus blooms.

Whereas some things do indeed change, such as the lavender toadstools and the mesh of leaves trimmed in amethyst. Likewise, the violet sky—which will shift to hydrangea blue come morning—and its panorama of planets. The Peaks float in the galaxy, an ethereal islet of cliffs, dales, forests, and seas.

Has she missed it? Has she been gone long enough to miss it?

Birds warble from above. The music settles her stomach, slowing her pulse to a normal tempo. Deities can cross long distances instantaneously, but not short ones. With any luck, she’ll reach the Archives within a couple of hours, so long as she makes it though this first stretch.

A school of young dragonflies whisks between the foliage, glowing within the murk and much tinier than their elders. As rays filter through the crochet of branches, the insects synchronize, corkscrewing around her. Twisting, she follows the choreography, sweeping her hand amidst the creatures, tickling the air and teasing them.

Nearby, a twig snaps. As the crack ricochets through the brambles, Wonder freezes.

Malice? She wouldn’t put it past him to sneak up on her.

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