Page 40 of Tempt

Malice scans the text. “My, my. Looks like I missed a spot.” He shrugs. “Then again, I was in a hurry. The keepers had just caught me red-handed, so I couldn’t check the whole book.”

“That’s when you got exiled?”

“Another five minutes, and I would have found this.”

“It took me only three minutes.”

His eyes crinkle. “Is that so?”

The afternoon turns into a book-a-thon as they gallivant from corner to corner, leading one another to the points where they’ve stripped mysteries bare. The majority have been taboo accounts, a rare few life changing. Wonder presents a diminutive book camouflaged and tucked within a book, within a book, within a book. It contains a list of forgotten supernovas.

In a rotating case, much like a rotating door, Malice fishes out a chronicle that only relinquishes its secret when treated like a flip book at the right speed. From there, a code can be deciphered about how to cheat at antiquated games.

There’s a list of the stars’ oldest criminals; these extra pages sprout when one plants a seed in the hardback’s crease.

There’s an account of the stars’ lost criminals that can only be read beneath a glass shard, like a makeshift microscope.

There’s manuscript that manifests riddles when doused by rain, another that shares ancient recipes when smeared in ink. “In order to read it, you have to ruin it,” Malice explains.

The contest isn’t hostile today. It’s animated as they find a common ground, exploring the stacks while bonding over locations, stories, and research.

Biographies of infamous deities, psychological analyses about dreams, and riddles are Malice’s guilty pleasure. Travel accounts are Wonder’s default for procrastination.

It becomes a game, and it becomes a fun one. They go so far as to offer each other tips and cautions: what niches to peruse and which ones to disregard.

During a debate about the assets of human libraries, Wonder pauses near a recess and gestures toward an area housing ancient journals, where intricate straps and thongs encase the texts. The closures are so expertly tangled that it would take patience to unbind them. “I’ve always wanted to tackle this section, but I haven’t graduated to it yet,” she jokes. “For the life of me, those straps are so…Malice?”

He gawks at the books, an unhealthy white paste coating his skin. His foot is arrested midstep, and his fist chokes the banister.

Wonder’s gaze jumps between his stricken face and the books wrapped like mummies. “Malice.”

The second her hand meets his elbow, he flinches violently, the floor vibrating beneath them. His chin jerks toward her, his eyes slitting. But to her surprise, something in her expression must tame him, because he shakes himself. “It’s nothing. Drop it.”

He vacates the quarter, compelling her to jog after him. The hours have cycled swiftly, nightfall greeting them when they exit the Chamber. Malice is twitchy, and she wants to probe, but she doesn’t. He’ll only shout or say something foul.

Pewter moon rays soak the dorm foyer. They halt at the landing, two blots in the center of glowing light. She wants to ask, but he’s not ready for that.

Perhaps, neither is she.

“I have a confession,” she whispers, and that gets his attention. “I forgot to keep score.”

His mouth lifts with humor. “Slacker.”

“But we don’t make a bad team.”

“Not too shabby.”

“We could be a force to be reckoned with. But we won’t get anywhere unless…”

Unless they work together, they won’t prevail in either of their goals, neither her peers’ campaign, nor whatever he’s hunting for.

Malice translates her thoughts. “Fuck it. Count me in, but I’m still a better researcher. Get used to it.”

“I think not,” she declares as he walks away. “Malice?”

He stops and swerves his head over his shoulder. “That’s me.”

“In the forest, with that elder. Why did you…?”

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