Touch (Dark Gods: Selfish Myths #1)

8

Love’s head jolts up. Wonder’s verdant green irises are kaleidoscopes—bright, hypnotic rings often urging people to look closer. In light of her past torture, that she remains optimistic at the most dismal of times is difficult to accept.

The goddess admires the forest while grooming her long curls. “I like it here. I’m stuck in a windy, rainy city. Too much distraction makes my job harder, but this village is quiet. You get to concentrate.”

“I’ll trade you,” Love replies.

“Would you? The snow is divine.”

In many respects, but Love still prefers the thoughtful color shades of fall, the flirty hues of spring, and the bold palettes of summer. She’s not fond of the somber, gloomy, metallic tints of winter. It’s hardly surprising that humans need more of her influence in places like this.

But would she honestly trade being here? Yes. No.

Love uses the toe of her boot to nudge Wonder’s calf. “Windy, rainy city? Wonder, of all people, is actually complaining? You’ve been to worse regions.”

“Would the Goddess of Love prefer that I take after her and lament my position?”

“Ha. You’re not remotely akin to me. Nor are you Sorrow.”

“Nor the Goddess of Happiness.”

“Thank Fates for that!”

They laugh. Happiness is the most nauseatingly cheerful being alive. She once advised Love to smile more often and attempted to tickle her—at which point, Love gave the goddess an appropriate scare. Wielding an iron arrow, Love fake-scratched Happiness, thus convincing the female she was about to turn into a rabid, love-battered mess. It had been a glorious two minutes.

Love’s mirth ebbs. She trusts Wonder will get to the point sooner rather than later.

The goddess inspects the perimeter, presumably to make sure Envy, Sorrow, and Anger have truly left. “The Stars say if he can see you, he can kill you. But if he can see you, then he can also mate with you.”

Love couldn’t have heard her right. “What?”

“He can love you,” the female says with a conspiratorial gleam. “And if he can love you, you have the chance to become like him.”

“Like what ?”

“It’s penned in the ancient narrative. Long ago, The Stars advised The Fate Court on the essentials of protecting our world. One of those essentials is a warning about mortals who can see our kind.”

Yes. Everyone knows the story. The Stars had informed The Court about rare mortals who unearth the truth about deities and the damning effects they have, though the celestials hadn’t been able to explain why. Even their knowledge has limits.

Wonder leans forward. “There’s one fundamental we’ve never been told, but each generation of rulers has. It’s been hidden for millennia in The Archives.”

That library hall of records and manuscripts is Wonder’s favorite place in The Dark Fates. It houses every bit of lore about their world, including scrolls documenting each wisdom The Stars have ever shared with their sovereigns.

But hidden tidings? That is doubtful. The Fate Court values truth and keeps nothing from their people. Love quirks a brow, silently expressing as much.

“Well, not precisely hidden ,” Wonder concedes. “They store this information in The Hollow Chamber.”

That, Love believes. The Hollow Chamber is a subterranean place deep within The Archives where deities shelve volumes of little importance. Insight and history that have overstayed their welcomes, outliving their value among gold-leaf titles, spools of vellum, and dust. All the same, Wonder gives credence to anything on paper.

The goddess lowers her voice. “I was down there and may have discovered a scroll. It recounts an era when The Stars inferred to The Court a warning: If a human and deity ever fall in love, they will be bound to each other as mates. And that deity will become mortal, forsaking their previous existence.”

Love surges to her feet. She charges onto the branch where Envy had been sitting and prowls its length. Flummoxed doesn’t begin to cover how she feels about this. For the next thirteen days, The Court will bow to The Stars—although it puts their kind in jeopardy—and task her with a man who can change her? That intensifies the risk. Of all deities, Love has been the hardest emotion to create. She’s the first love goddess ever conceived, millennia in the making, and therefore not easily replaced.

“Then why would The Stars advise that I match this man?” she demands. “The Fate Court must have clamored.”

“Oh, Love. You’re more exhausting than Angst.” Wonder peers around the snow-caked forest once more. “I’m sure it wasn’t painless for them to give you this chore. As for the scroll, did I not just say it’s in The Hollow Chamber? It’s been ages, so The Fate Court may have forgotten about its existence. My guess is none of The Courts throughout history took The Stars’ guidance on that front seriously. It wasn’t a prophecy so much as a precaution. Come now. An immortal and a human becoming mates? An immortal capable of love and who yearns to become an aging, fragile human? Enough to pursue such a desire? Possible in theory but absurd in reality. That’s why the scroll must have been transferred to The Chamber. Do you resent this information?”

“More than anything,” Love confesses.

Wonder smirks. “You fancy him.”

While Love forces herself not to hiss at the accusation, the goddess beams. “We all saw it when we got here. Any time we mentioned him, you melted like candle wax or threw a colossal fit. That’s a radiant start. Loving him back is the other half of the change. Isn’t it marvelous how answers to the greatest obstacles can be found right under our noses?”

“What if an immortal does not wish to change?”

Wonder shrugs with pleasure. “I wouldn’t know what to tell them.”

Love drops back onto the branch. A chorus of brittle twigs cracks around her. “What were you doing in The Chamber?”

“I got lost.”

Wonder’s scarred hands are now bunched in her lap rather than brushing through her hair. Out of sheer distraction, she often gets lost when she’s in a new human village. Though, not in The Archives. That’s Wonder’s haven.

No. She’d been down there for another reason. Had she been looking for something else when the scroll ended up in her hands? Like the rest of their crew, Wonder hasn’t returned to The Dark Fates in a year. So how long has she known about this?

The goddess casts Love a sidelong glance. “You helped me once.”

The memory between them grows like a flower. That’s what this is about. Wonder believes she owes Love this knowledge, after what Love did— attempted to do—for Wonder on the day she was tortured.

The goddess fluffs the blossoms of her corsage. “I’m also telling you this because you’re not like the rest of us, and that’s why I’m fond of you. Who wouldn’t favor a love goddess? Other than Anger?” She bites her lower lip. “He’s been watching you.”

Love stiffens. “Anger’s been leaving his jurisdiction to spy on me? What the devil for?”

“He saw you and the man meet,” Wonder confides. “He almost decapitated the mortal when your archery battle came to a stalemate.”

“It wasn’t a stalemate. I’d have bested him.”

“According to Anger, your aim was off.”

Fucking Stars. That part hadn’t happened, no matter what Andrew or Anger claim!

A growl scrolls up Love’s throat. “That’s how The Court knows about Andrew. Our crew leader decided to play informant.”

“You were preoccupied, and Anger obeyed the rules for the sake of our people,” Wonder reasons. “The Court convened with The Stars, agreed to have you match the human, then commanded Anger to round up our crew and speak with you, though I’m sure he would have done that anyway. But before he came to us, Anger also witnessed the mortal skirmish you participated in. He saw you and the man at the bridge, then watched you traverse through the village together.”

“What else did he witness? We weren’t outside the whole time.”

“Oh yes, Anger mentioned that. He kept vigil outside the building you two disappeared into.”

Love resents him having been there at all, and that the archers know anything about last night. But at least he hadn’t followed her and Andrew into the building. Those hours had been private. They’ve become… sacred to her.

What must the archers think of Love keeping company with a human instead of rushing to The Court and warning them? She cannot fully condemn her peers for doubting her.

“Anger saw you whisper No to yourself in response to The Court’s request,” Wonder shares. “They expect reports from him, but he’s vowed to keep your verbal blunder to himself, so retract your claws. Anger means well.”

“What was he doing, inserting himself into my business to begin with?” Love interrogates.

The goddess hedges. “What you do reflects on the rest of our crew. I suppose Anger wanted to make sure your time went smoothly.”

“Except I’ve been matchmaking for nearly two millennia. How much supervision do I still need?”

“If there’s another reason, take that up with him.”

That’s the last thing Love plans to do. Instead, she acknowledges, “It was a risk telling me what you found.”

“It was.”

“Then you have my gratitude.” She tries to express additional thanks, but the words turn into, “I have no interest in that man.”

“You want him more than you covet my fashionable pants. That counts for something. Flattering coat, by the way.”

Love is grateful the female cannot see into Love’s pockets, where Andrew’s note rests. “I won’t endanger our world to be with him.”

“For mercy’s sake,” Wonder sighs. “I wouldn’t tell you this if I thought your success would endanger our people. According to the scroll, your union with the man would alter things. You would lose your memory of deities and your life as a goddess—let me finish,” she says when Love is about to revolt. “It wouldn’t be instantaneous, but it would happen over time. Bonded with you, the man would forget as well. Neither of you would know any better, yet your love would remain. And immortals wouldn’t be threatened anymore. But whatever you choose, be cautious. You don’t want to make treachery obvious, particularly if Anger turns up again. There’s only so much he can keep from The Court to protect you. Don’t put him in that position.”

Love repudiates that with a wave. “It won’t be necessary.”

This infatuation with a human she just met is irrelevant. Besides, Andrew would need to fall for her, Love would have to feel the same, and all of this would need to happen without them touching. Moreover, she would have to desire such a future.

In Wonder’s quaint mind, that’s possible. But although she may be familiar with Love’s curiosity about human touch, that doesn’t mean Love is willing to sacrifice this life for a mere sampling of human affection. The bliss would pale in comparison to its price. Her memory and powers erased, the loss of immortality and her archery, facing the unknown with its illness and death and imperfections and unpredictability. It’s unthinkable.

So what if Love is biased toward Andrew? She doesn’t favor him as much as she enjoys living forever. Nor as much as she values the lives of her people and adores The Dark Fates, with its blooming slopes and noble cliffs. It’s a beautiful dimension. And it’s home. There, at least she knows where she belongs.

Lastly, she will never relinquish her bow. Matchmaking is her purpose.

Andrew is a distraction, but he’s not meant for her. If Love doesn’t accomplish this mission, The Court will destroy him.

And she will be tortured as punishment, which is the least of what they can do. Any other goddess would be sentenced to execution or banishment. They won’t go that far, because she’s too important to The Dark Fates. But they will show her pain, perhaps in the form of prolonged torture over the course of a century.

Or they’ll make her watch Andrew’s death. Likely, it will be both.

Love remembers her invisible palm blending with his, and how he didn’t recoil.

I loathe his fingers.

She checks the sky, its gauzy clouds split by occasional threads of blue.

I despise his coat.

The day is only beginning.

I hate him.

She has work to do.

And I shall prove it.

It’s a fine time to sharpen her arrows.