Page 30 of Tempt

Why does this feel awkward?

Malice has conjured new attire, having replaced the leather sweater with a Henley that strains across his torso, pulling taut over firm muscles. Alas, she misses the concealment of thicker clothing, her body buzzing at the sight of him. So this is how Hades looks at the break of dawn, when he’s free to roam as he pleases.

Her own garb is as disheveled as his hair, and that feels too intimate for her liking. By contrast, he’s not ashamed to scroll over her with aplomb.

Standing beside the chair, a tripod table balances a steaming pot of peony tea, plus a fruit bowl loaded with bloated cherries and blushing peaches. No pomegranates.

Heat coils from the pot and dashes into the air. Industrious, he’s already procured breakfast.

She loves the selection. In fact, they’re her favorites.

Hadn’t she mentioned that to him recently? It must be a ploy.

Wonder pours a cup of tea. While balancing it in her hand, she avoids the cherries and snatches a peach with her free fingers. “Let’s get to work,” she says.

Malice vacates the chair. Gaining his feet, he leans in and bites the orb propped in her hand, then straps his mouth around the rim of her tea, guzzling the contents.

Licking his lips, he sets the half-emptied peony tea in her palm. “I thought you’d never ask,” he says.

Still holding the cup and fruit, Wonder watches him leave. Then she regards the refreshments, each one impinged upon by his mouth…his tongue…

She dumps both on the table.

***

They start in the restricted section, descending into the funnel’s lowest level, a vanishing point at the base of the Chamber. There, a curved slab encircles them, giving the appearance of a foyer. In the center, a metallic telescope—a stargazer— points toward its own likeness, a painted mirror image set amidst constellations. Other than that, the wall bears no doors or grooves into which a partition might slide.

No, this segment of the Chamber doesn’t open by conventional means. The stargazer is a key, and there are two ways to enter.

One, by rotating the lens just so, a maneuver that cannot be mastered by anyone but the Fate Court, the Archives keepers, and the librarians.

Two, by breaking celestial law.

It’s how Wonder—and evidently Malice, during his own rebellious sojourns—used to sneak inside.

He rifles through his pocket to retrieve the capsule of Asterra Flora, then smears the liquid onto the lens, causing it to circuit and twist like a kaleidoscope. The mural shimmers, coming to animated life and thinning into a sheer screen of dew and twinkling stars. They step through the veil, a fine layer of dampness settling on their clothes.

Elated, Wonder inhales the atmosphere. Oh, how the fragrance of ancient ink permeates the channels, while starlit lanterns pour incandescent rosemary light onto the lanes. The beacons illuminate dust floating in the air, the motes lustrous and shining.

Mesmerized, she and Malice step tentatively, savoring this reunion. They wander in different directions, slipping around bends and strolling along the glistening stacks. These are the aisles of the forbidden, of the taboo, of the elusive. This is an illustrious cellar of secrets, many stored by the various Fate Courts over the ages, others tucked here by the stars, secured for those destined to find and enact them.

She gets reacquainted, running her digits over the books, privately instructing herself as she once had.Feel the pulse of each shelf. Bask in the gleam of every bookcase. Respect their darkness and seek their light. Listen to the pages crinkle. Follow them. Read them.

Wonder pulls away from a title, green granules clinging to the pads of her fingers. Beaming, she blows on the flakes, soot whisking up into a pixie dust cloud—beyond which Malice appears. As the nebula floats to the ground, he watches her, and she watches him.

He taps his chin. “Shall we get to it?”

She straightens. “We shall.”

During this month of worship, they have free reign without the necessity of nocturnal escapades or vacating the premises in anticipation of the watch’s rotation.

True, it’s not foolproof. Wonder’s Guide might resist the notion that she’d been hallucinating in the forest. Therefore, Harmony might insist on an inspection of the woods and its vicinity. If she or any other unexpected presence breaks with tradition and comes sniffing here, Wonder and Malice will have to flee. She knows the rattle of every doorknob in this place, the creak of every hinge, the compression of carpet beneath a deity’s stride, the echo of movement in the halls.

Does Malice know the same warning signs? Will it be enough?

Now that slumber is behind them, they’ll have to tackle these questions first.

And so it begins. Drafting a contingency plan comes more seamlessly than she’d anticipated, compared to when they’d broken into the Archives. It strikes her how painless collaborating on solutions to unwanted company turns out.

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