Page 26 of Tempt

Writing is universal. In retrospect, it’s been a foundation in the relationships of her peers, playing a role in the evolution of their stories: books and journals between Love and Andrew, neon words and lyrics between Anger and Merry, libraries and letters between Wonder and Malice.

Not that they’re aWonder and Malice. The prospect greases her tongue with oil. She loved the boy he used to be, not the deviant he’s become. Thusly, they’ve joined the ranks of Envy and Sorrow, another temporary couple without definition or a promising future.

Birds shake their bejeweled plumage while chirping a spectral melody. The woodland splits, the branches unlacing to reveal a resplendent edifice. The sight quickens Wonder and Malice’s pace until they duck behind shrubbery.

Nestled within the beeches, the Archives rises from the earth, multiple levels of interconnected star-shaped towers shooting to the sky. Windows refract lights from the constellations. Exterior stairways soar along the stone fortification, and waterfalls course down the walls and grass-carpeted landings. The structure blends into the enshrouding boughs, coalescing with the trees like an extension of the celestial wild.

It’s a great library of forests and starlight.

Wonder’s mouth wreaths into a smile. From the corner of her eye, she notices Malice paying infuriating attention to her. In the piebald light, his jaw ticks as though her pleasure is contaminating his mood.

“What?” she blusters.

“Nothing.” He shifts expressions like he shifts moods, recklessly and with immediacy, his lips lifting. “Wandering Wonder. How do you like the western view?”

Damn him. She’s neglected to notice the direction in which they’d been trekking.

Then again, she takes a second look. Examining the gate bookended by tumbling mists of water, a smug giddiness brightens her evening. “I wouldn’t know. Would you?”

Frowning, Malice studies thefaçadeand draws the same conclusion. She hadn’t been the only one not paying attention to their destination during the hike.

This is the north wing, the building’s very own northern star.

He curses, raking those talons through his hair. “I hate this entrance.”

That perks her up. “Suddenly, it’s growing on me. Why don’t you demonstrate how much you hate it by trespassing first? I know you like coming first. There’s something so—” she imitates him, flicking her fingers in rumination, “—so first about it.”

His face cinches into a scowl. “Very funny, Wildflower.”

“I like to think so, Demon.”

“What happened to ‘dearest’? Why does everyone else get ‘dearest,’ and I get its evil twin?”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with the alternative.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

He just hates this entrance because it’s not a challenge, even less so than the eastern gate. On this route, the only trial they’ll face is navigating a dizzying maze of corridors that no equilibrium stands a chance against. Easy.

Not that it used to be easy. Wonder has gotten lost there precisely two hundred times prior to mastering its path.

Although the east wing is their best option, the rotation of the Archive keepers—whichever dutiful ones remain here until cessation officially begins tomorrow—should prevent an altercation in the north entrance at this hour. Nonetheless, Malice is correct. It can’t be more than a few stragglers, and it’s a large structure, so any guardians will be painless to dodge.

One can hope.

They race across the lawn and pause beneath the misty waters flanking the gate, where Malice withdraws the Asterra Flora from his saddlebag, slathering the contents over the winding calligraphy of bars. It’s a clean rift, the bolt giving with a subtle tremor.

Slipping into the courtyard, they dash toward a pentagonal double door, where they apply another dose of the liquid. Just like that, they slip into the vestibule, where a procession of lanterns hangs overhead, each housing a single star. The encasements’ cutouts emit strands of rosemary green light that dimple the bookcase walls, while narrow windows exhibit violet twilight, the glass panes embroidered with leaves from outside.

Wonder reads Malice’s mind, and maybe he reads hers. Agreeing on a route is paramount, but before they do anything, they must tend to the basics. That includes reaching a safe zone until the building empties at dawn.

Demoted from a library maven to a library squatter. If she were alone, she would get cranky. Since Malice would feed on that emotion as if part of his diet, she pulls herself together.

“Whatever wardens are left, they’re already in vacation mode,” he murmurs. “I suggest we bunk in the southern dorms.”

She was going to suggest the same thing. The librarian dormitories are closest to the most vital area of the Archives, the most important place for research. “Let’s establish ground rules right now. This illustrious establishment has space for only one diva—and that diva isme.”

“Ahh,” he draws out. “If you’re that certain, such a flagrant public service announcement wouldn’t be necessary.”

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