Page 37 of No Greater Sorrow

Nicolas’s hair was messier than usual, wild from the windswept camp. Aleja tilted her head up on instinct, and their noses touched. It wasn’t a true kiss, not really, and Nicolas seemed hesitant when he parted his mouth, and the tip of his tongue swiped her bottom lip.

Heat moved through her, as potent as her fire but sweeter—a hearth, not an inferno. He gave a hiss of pain when her breasts pressed against his chest but wrapped an arm around her back to prevent her from moving when she tried to pull away.

Aleja knew that he was waiting for her to act first. Even though it made her feel like she was moving away from that hearth on a deathly freezing night, she took a step back.

“No way we’re sneaking into museums. We’re waiting in line with a thousand other sweaty tourists, and you’re going to humor me while I stand around reading every single placard. I’ll think about it once you get that snake off your chest, Nic.”

“Understood. Goodnight, soldier.”

She left wordlessly, glad to find Garm outside. Looking up at her, he yawned, flashing his tiny teeth. Well, not so tiny anymore. The dog still wasn’t as large as he’d been before the Astraelis drove a sword through him, but he nearly reached her knee now.

“Any empty tents with a cot around here, Garm?” she asked.

“Where the night watch sleeps during the day. You’re not supposed to be in there, though.”

“I’m just going to nap for a few hours. They’ll never know,” she said, feeling rebellious. Wasn’t that what the Otherlanders were known for anyway?

“They will after I shed fur all over the bed.”

“You’re not sleeping on the bed.”

“We’ll see about that. You can’t watch me forever.”

Garm sniffed wildly at the dirt as he led her toward the camp’s western edge, but music coming from the inside of a tent made Aleja pause. A woman with a long, dark braid, whom Taddeas had introduced as Silmiya, stood guard before it. Silmiya nodded as Aleja passed; she had no idea whether they’d known each other before, but Aleja was too exhausted for that conversation now.

She caught of glimpse of Val’s mask as a breeze shifted the tent’s entrance. The song made her feel like she was standing in an empty field surrounded by only the sound of the earth—the susurration of dried grass, distant crickets, and the unnamable hum in her ears when the world was too quiet.

“The Astraelis sing their prayers,” Silmiya said, as if she understood that Aleja lacked any context for what she was hearing.

“It’s lovely,” Aleja answered, unsure if this admission would upset Silmiya.

“It is. A shame that the Astraelis have strayed so far from the First’s teachings. You must be lost, Lady of Wrath. Turn around and head straight until you reach the flagpole, then make a left. You’ll find the healer’s tent there,” Silmiya said with a look at Aleja’s wrapped wrist.

Aleja followed her instructions until the shadows were heavy enough to mask her loop back. She found an empty cot and settled in beneath sheets that smelled of vinegar and baking soda. A part of her wished she could still hear Val’s singing, because aside from Garm, who managed to take up three-fourths of the mattress despite being half her size, Aleja felt completely alone.

PARTII

5

THE ANCIENT ONES

“Imposing human morality on the Otherlanders would be unwise. While humans associate them with symbols of evil—particularly serpents—it is more accurate to say that the Otherlanders simply follow a different moral code than the one we are accustomed to. For them, the ends are much more likely to justify the means.”

—Excerpt fromTen Myths of the Otherlandersby Emiel Nasir.

“Here we go. Trial two,”Violet said, adjusting her backpack. This morning she looked decidedly better than Aleja, having taken advantage of the healer’s tonics one last time.

Aleja had woken before dawn to sneak away before the night watch returned to their beds, after having spent a second night getting kicked in the stomach by Garm’s hind legs as he dreamed. At least Bonnie had brought them a tray of tiny fennel sausages and hard-boiled eggs speckled with pink sea salt. After kissing them both on the top of the head, she’d whispered “My second Trial was the worst. Be safe.”

This time, Nicolas accompanied them to the cave mouth, flying by their side as she and Violet rode the Avisai.

“The Avisai will signal for me when you return,” he told them. “Stay sharp, stay careful. The second Trial will be nothing like the first—they never are.”

“See you soon, Nic,” Aleja said, wishing she could step forward and hug him. But she was beginning to understand why Nicolas had kept his distance during her early days in the Hiding Place. The sight of him made something inside her crack, like everything beneath her skin was made of glass.

Aleja’s glove was tight around her swollen hand. She hadn’t wanted to wrap her wrist this morning, lest the Second see she was injured, but Violet had arrived at breakfast with a vial of anti-inflammatory herbs from the healer’s tent. Aleja’s wrist still ached like hell, but she’d tested her magic this morning. She had no problem conjuring her fire, but she’d have to improvise if the Trial involved any sort of climbing.

“Why didn’t you tell me you still had the Astraelis in your head?” Aleja whispered. Her echo bounced around the cavern, along with the click of Garm’s nails. She’d decided the awkwardness of asking was better than dying not knowing why her friend—whyeveryone—seemed to be lying to her.

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