Page 41 of No Greater Sorrow

Gods, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this angry—not even when Roland’s cult watched as he dragged her and Violet to their deaths. In a sick way, she’dunderstoodthem; trapped in time, with lives extended endlessly by the well water, they had good motivation to drop a witch in every few years.

“I have to give you the paper. It’s one of my instructions,” Violet said, still unable to look Aleja in the eye. “Promise me you won’t hate me.”

Something inside Aleja softened. This was a game, and the Second had set the rules. She couldn’t fault Violet for following them any more than she could fault herself for cutting the heart out of a girl who looked like a younger version of herself. Aleja sighed as she took the paper, but when she moved to open it, Violet stopped her.

“Don’t read it yet. Wait until you come out on the other end of the tunnel.”

“Was that in the instructions too?”

“No.”

“Whatever. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

“I can’t. My Trial is over. I passed.” Violet finally looked up, but there was no hint of relief or triumph on her face. Just desperation.

Aleja knew she wouldn’t be able to speak without saying something she’d regret. She shoved Violet’s note into her pocket and turned toward the darkness. As she motioned for Garm to go in ahead of her, Aleja didn’t miss the final glare he shot Violet before lowering his head to slink into the tunnel.

“What the fuck was that?” Aleja muttered once the outside light disappeared completely. She resisted the urge to collapse against one of the walls.

Stop. The desperation will make you act rashly. What’s done is done, said her voice.

“Do you want to read the note?” Garm asked, his voice less gravelly now that he was shrinking into his dog body again.

Aleja did not, but she pulled it from her pocket all the same, gathering just enough fire at her fingertips to read by.

This note is for you alone, Violet Timmons. Speak of it and fail. In the second Trial, you must return what has been lost to the First, Second, and Third, but beware—danger awaits should the task not be completed quickly. The person who places all three pieces completes the Trial. The person who does not must go on. Choose your path carefully. The second half of the Trial is a deadly challenge, but the winner will reap a special reward. If you are the one to place the heart, share your note.

“Sheknewwhat was going to happen. She fucking knew,” Aleja muttered, more to herself than to Garm, nearly invisible aside from his eyes. She understood now why the Second had given her a heart of glass, so fragile and easily broken. Aleja should have smashed the damned thing when she had the chance.

He gave another low growl, but with less ferocity behind it now that they were cocooned in shadows. “She was afraid. But you shouldn’t be. You have me. Do you want to talk about it?” Garm asked softly.

“No, I need to concentrate.”

“The Second designed the Trial so that one of you was forced to betray the other. I’m sure she feels terrible too.”

Aleja scoffed. A second ago, Garm had looked ready to tear Violet’s throat out, but she supposed dogs forgave more easily than humans. “Not now. Do you smell anything? Hear anything?”

“There’s movement ahead.”

“Stay behind me.”

“No. I’m supposed to be your weapon, Aleja.”

They came to an opening.

The landscape beyond the tunnel was so nightmarish that Aleja felt like she was back in the dreams that’d haunted her during her first few months in the Hiding Place. Blood-drenched soil, trees with intestines strewn across their branches like macabre garlands, and circling overhead, a flock of lion-like Thrones. A cave mouth was nestled into cliffs at the valley’s opposite end.

At least, this was what she’d expected the Trials to be like. Enormous beasts swooped down on her as she evaded them, shooting plumes of fire whenever there was an opening. The heat was so intense that the sweat on her face hissed away.

Garm wove and leaped across the field in confusing patterns, and the Thrones—though frighteningly maneuverable in the air—were not as fast as a hellhound. For a moment, Garm was engulfed in a cloud of dust as one of the Thrones struck their claws out to grab him and hit the earth instead. Aleja screamed his name, attracting the attention of those still airborne, but he reappeared a second later, dashing ahead with a speed they couldn’t match.

She was the first to reach the cave mouth, but Garm was close at her heels as they came in with too much momentum. A Throne’s growl rumbled through the rocks as it forced its head through the entrance, but even if Aleja had wanted to turn around, she couldn’t. Loose pebbles slipped beneath her boots and suddenly she was sliding downhill into the darkness, with Garm a tumbling mass of limbs beside her.

Thankfully, the slope soon evened, and Aleja was able to haul herself up and cast a bit of fire to illuminate their surroundings. Garm had a bleeding gash atop his muzzle, but he limped to Aleja and licked her wrist as if he could sense the pain below her skin. The Throne’s growls were distant for now.

“Are you okay?” Garm asked.

“Yeah. Only a few scrapes. Come on. I need—I need this to be over.”

---