Page 3 of Tempt

Malice is not her friend.

At the onset of his captivity, she and her classmates had checked this vault for perilous or devious devices. Confiscating his archery had been indisputable. But they’d shown mercy and permitted him to keep items that posed no threat, including the crate of envelopes that contain letters.

To be on the safe side, her friends had needed reassurance of the content’s harmlessness. Wonder had checked the missives, only to discover blank pages, Malice having managed to conceal them from view. Only a particular ink can achieve this, granting the paper illegibility unless read exclusively in the Peaks.

She shakes her head. In any case, in the human realm, the envelopes’ contents have been rendered inaccessible. Malice cherishes them for reasons her classmates don’t know about, for reasons that invade her consciousness on a regular basis.

Do the missives contain mortal words? Or immortal ones? Do they provide enlightenment? Hidden knowledge that her class would benefit from? Or knowledge about Malice, himself?

Why do the envelopes matter so much to him? What else matters so much to him?

She watches her demon prisoner cradle the envelope like a stuffed animal, and she watches him sleep, and she stays like this until the stars slant. Unbidden, her treacherous hand reaches out, yielding to temptation. One gilded curl links around her finger, softer than she had imagined, so soft for such a harsh being.

Malice would despise Wonder if he caught her doing this. He would mock and spew elegant yet mind-bending insults. He would indulge in his favorite pastime, pushing her buttons, testing how many he can locate.

Looping that curl behind his ear, she lets go, because she has tolet go. Resigned, resolved, repentant, she stands. Padding across the vault, she resists the urge to glance over her shoulder. He’s the enemy, a diabolical deity. Being weaponless hasn’t made him an obedient captive—being clever has.

Malice doesn’t need a bow to free himself. It’s his crafty brain, and his serpentine tongue, that she should be wary of.

And it’s only a matter of time before he tries something mutinous.

***

The next morning, Wonder descends into the vault to find the demon swaying back and forth, the joints of his rocking chair creaking in tandem.

Actually, it sounds more like a cackle.

He’s lucid and reading a book. One of his legs balances atop the opposite knee, the tome propped on his lap, the text spread wide open and offering itself to his voracious eyes.

Cinders fill the fire pit, the smoke of yesterday extinguished. Dawn slithers through the basement window, exposing dust motes while the fragrance of pomegranates clings to the walls.

Wonder takes a moment to reflect. So much has happened, in so brief a period.

This mortal world has been ruled for eons by the Fates. Blessed and empowered by the stars, selfish gods and goddesses like Wonder have steered mortal destinies since the beginning—unbeknownst to humanity.

When they’re of age, deities become archers that wield human emotions through the strikes of arrows.

Those archers are mentored by Guides.

And the Fate Court reigns over everyone.

Back in the Peaks, the realm of her people, Wonder grew up in an elite class of archers. She and her peers—Love, Anger, Envy, and Sorrow—had been the most promising group in history until they’d grown too close to humanity, developing a forbidden fondness for its inhabitants. Through a chain of unforeseen conflicts, each of them began to question a deity’s right to control anyone other than themselves. And through a chain of rebellious acts, they’ve since become the Fate Court’s enemy.

So here they are, in the Celestial City. It’s a mortal landscape but also a haven for immortal exiles. Ostracized from the Peaks, Wonder and her peers teeter on the brink of a war with their own people, all on behalf of humanity and in the name of equality.

A battle of fate versus free will has begun to simmer.

In the midst of that, Wonder and her renegade companions must contend with a second nemesis: the lone god in this very room where she stands.

Their prisoner had been expelled from the Peaks long before Wonder or her friends. Having settled in this metropolis, he’d elected to haunt this library. And since then, he’s spent his existence wreaking havoc on fellow outcasts.

So he deserves this confinement. That isn’t the quandary.

The quandary is that he reminds Wonder of her past. He reminds her of someone she once knew and has never forgotten. Someone she had cared for.

Someone kind, unlike him.

This conundrum has disrupted her ever since she first beheld the god one year ago, just after she had arrived in this place.