Page 18 of No Greater Sorrow

“Go,” Aleja said, pushing Violet forward.

Violet was the first to cross beneath the arch, then Garm, and finally, Aleja.

She took one last look at the Authority before tumbling into the darkness. Its hundreds of eyes were bright, and gleeful, as if it couldn’t care less about the human women escaping the hungry mouth hidden somewhere beneath its wings.

3

THE MOURNERS

“It is common knowledge among Otherlanders that the Third’s realm is not a final resting ground for the dead, but a space that embodies a phrase popular among my colleagues in anthropological studies:liminality. The world of the dead is but a hallway, and the Third, a guide from one door to the next.”

—Excerpt fromTen Myths of the Otherlandersby Emiel Nasir.

“Sir,one of the Avisai spotted two women leaving the Second’s cave.”

Nicolas’s attention snapped to the foot soldier, a fey man wearing a uniform a size too large, which made him look younger than he was—at least, insofar, as it was possible to age a fey on sight. He saluted Nicolas with a tad more enthusiasm than the veteran soldiers did.

“Good. General Taddeas is in command while I’m gone,” Nicolas said.

By the time he landed in the clearing just outside the cave, his back ached. It had been years since he had used his wings this much, followed by a stretch of barely flying at all while Aleja had been bound to him. Near the entrance, two small figures huddled, surrounded by the smell of burned skin and adrenaline. He stopped himself from rushing to them, remembering Aleja’s words.

Until you fix this, we’re done.

Something small and dark moved among the rocks, its back arched like a cat defending its territory. As far as Nicolas knew, only the Knowing One could create hellhounds, and Garm had been his first. But the Doberman puppy straightened as soon as it spotted him, and even with his Otherlander speed, Nicolas couldn’t dodge as the dog barreled into his legs.

“How did you—how?” he asked, scooping Garm up and not minding when the dog’s claws brushed against the painful tattoo on his chest.

“Aleja asked for me as a weapon,” Garm said, craning to lick Nicolas’s face.

Good girl, he thought, remembering the evening he’d told Garm that he had but one duty so long as he existed: to protect Aleja, even at the cost of his life. Nicolas always had the feeling the promise wasn’t necessary after the day she’d bribed Garm with day-old cold cuts.

“How are they?” he asked Garm. Nicolas could no longer count on Aleja to be open with him, and Violet appeared to confide only in the Dark Saint of Bounty. He’d more than once spotted Violet sneaking out of Bonnie’s cabin as the night sky lightened before dawn.

“The Second didn’t seem to want to test her, so much as torture her. She did what she had to do.”

The poison in his veins sizzled. He remembered the first time he’d seen Aleja in their nameless kingdom; eighteen years old and half-wild, with all the men in the village too afraid to approach her. She was carrying a plucked quail, shot through the neck with one of her arrows, and when she’d smiled at Nicolas, it looked like she was baring her teeth. It was the first time he’d understood he had a heart that could be pierced as easily as that poor bird’s throat.

The Second’s voice rumbled through him.

RETURN IN THREE DAYS.

Aleja moved unsteadily, pulling Violet with her. Both had blood on their faces, but the wound in Aleja’s shoulder was jarring—a mess of pink flesh, readying new scars to layer atop the old ones. Nicolas set Garm down on the rocks and crossed his arms. He could barely keep himself from pulling her against his aching chest and whispering that he’dknownshe would survive, but he was so fucking grateful for it anyway.

“You need to get that treated,” he said instead.

“Yeah,” Aleja muttered. The sickle was on her belt loop, crusted with blood.

“Violet, are you all right?” he asked.

“Happy to be out of there,” she said. The Second’s magic radiated from her with a hum like a broken streetlamp. Violet’s blonde hair had slipped from its tie, framing her flushed cheeks. She wore no weapon, but the questions about what they had seen and done would have to come later.

“Let’s get back to the palace. I’m starving,” Aleja said with a wince.

“There aren’t any healers at the palace. We’ll head up to one of the army camps. It’s quiet for now. After your shoulder is bandaged, you can rest,” he told her.

Aleja waved her hand, acquiescing immediately. A sign of her exhaustion.

“Is it far?” Violet asked. Her pupils were dilated with residual adrenaline.

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